Page 42
Story: A Whisker in the Night
He gives a little laugh. “They’ve got your instincts.”
“And my appetite,” I wince as I say it.
“I did see you eyeing my dinner.”
“I am eating for two.” I sink a little in his arms. “Although some days I’m not sure if it’s for two people or two football teams.”
“You can have my dinner any day of the week,” he says, pulling me close. “Besides, we’re working on building our own football team.” He stands and quickly scoops me into his arms as if I were as light as a marshmallow Peep. “Come on, Detective Baker Wilder. I think it’s time for bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” I say with a laugh.
“Who said anything about sleeping?”
“Jasper!” I yelp, laughing as I cling to his neck for dear life—twodear lives. “I’m perfectly capable of walking, you know.”
“Yeah, but this is more fun,” he says, trotting me toward the bedroom.
“How many people make up a football team, anyway?” I ask, amused at the thought of us building our own.
“About fifty-three.”
“What?” I laugh as I swat him. “You are crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
Watch it, buddy,Fish calls after us.Just because you have a few muscles doesn’t mean you should carry around a pregnant woman like she’s a throw pillow. I abide by the adage that just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
Says the cat who once got stuck in an Easter basket,Sherlock is quick to remind her.
That was one time!Fish protests.And it was a deceptively spacious-looking basket.
The chatter among the three of them dissolves as Jasper carries me over the threshold of our bedroom.
The baby gives another quick kick, and it’s a gentle reminder of the football team we’re building—I mean, life we’re building together—and I can’t help but think that for all its madness and QR code scams, this world isn’t so bad. Not when I have Jasper Wilder by my side.
However, I make a mental note to make sure there are no QR codes involved in my baby registry. You can never be too prepared.
Speaking of preparation, if I want to catch a killer before the Easter Bunny arrives, I had better hop to it.
Or else someone out there might just get away with murder.
Chapter 27
“H
e is risen!” Mom and Georgie shout my way.
“He is risen indeed!” I shout back as I navigate the crowd right here on Main Street this warm, and might I add, perfect Easter morning.
The entire town has turned out in their Easter Sunday best for the Hip Hip Parade, transforming these cobbled streets into a sea of pastel, complete with elaborate hats that would make the Kentucky Derby jealous.
The crowds are thick, the air is perfectly balmy, and the sound of the high school band along with the roar of the crowd competes for my ears, while the scent of fresh baked hot-cross buns and popcorn compete for my appetite.
Jasper had a few leads he was following in the investigation of Georgie’s missing money and went to his office early this morning but assured me he’d be back before the parade ended.
Fish jockeys to stand tall in the tote bag slung over my shoulder.If one more float blasts “Here Comes Peter Cottontail,” I’m declaring this parade a bushy-tailed disaster zone.
At least you’re not being crushed by that bunny’s bushy tail.Sherlock gives a soft woof that sounds more like a laugh and I can already feel the zinger coming.But I’m pretty sure your tail takes up half that bag. Sorry about that, Jellybean.
“And my appetite,” I wince as I say it.
“I did see you eyeing my dinner.”
“I am eating for two.” I sink a little in his arms. “Although some days I’m not sure if it’s for two people or two football teams.”
“You can have my dinner any day of the week,” he says, pulling me close. “Besides, we’re working on building our own football team.” He stands and quickly scoops me into his arms as if I were as light as a marshmallow Peep. “Come on, Detective Baker Wilder. I think it’s time for bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy,” I say with a laugh.
“Who said anything about sleeping?”
“Jasper!” I yelp, laughing as I cling to his neck for dear life—twodear lives. “I’m perfectly capable of walking, you know.”
“Yeah, but this is more fun,” he says, trotting me toward the bedroom.
“How many people make up a football team, anyway?” I ask, amused at the thought of us building our own.
“About fifty-three.”
“What?” I laugh as I swat him. “You are crazy.”
“Crazy about you.”
Watch it, buddy,Fish calls after us.Just because you have a few muscles doesn’t mean you should carry around a pregnant woman like she’s a throw pillow. I abide by the adage that just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
Says the cat who once got stuck in an Easter basket,Sherlock is quick to remind her.
That was one time!Fish protests.And it was a deceptively spacious-looking basket.
The chatter among the three of them dissolves as Jasper carries me over the threshold of our bedroom.
The baby gives another quick kick, and it’s a gentle reminder of the football team we’re building—I mean, life we’re building together—and I can’t help but think that for all its madness and QR code scams, this world isn’t so bad. Not when I have Jasper Wilder by my side.
However, I make a mental note to make sure there are no QR codes involved in my baby registry. You can never be too prepared.
Speaking of preparation, if I want to catch a killer before the Easter Bunny arrives, I had better hop to it.
Or else someone out there might just get away with murder.
Chapter 27
“H
e is risen!” Mom and Georgie shout my way.
“He is risen indeed!” I shout back as I navigate the crowd right here on Main Street this warm, and might I add, perfect Easter morning.
The entire town has turned out in their Easter Sunday best for the Hip Hip Parade, transforming these cobbled streets into a sea of pastel, complete with elaborate hats that would make the Kentucky Derby jealous.
The crowds are thick, the air is perfectly balmy, and the sound of the high school band along with the roar of the crowd competes for my ears, while the scent of fresh baked hot-cross buns and popcorn compete for my appetite.
Jasper had a few leads he was following in the investigation of Georgie’s missing money and went to his office early this morning but assured me he’d be back before the parade ended.
Fish jockeys to stand tall in the tote bag slung over my shoulder.If one more float blasts “Here Comes Peter Cottontail,” I’m declaring this parade a bushy-tailed disaster zone.
At least you’re not being crushed by that bunny’s bushy tail.Sherlock gives a soft woof that sounds more like a laugh and I can already feel the zinger coming.But I’m pretty sure your tail takes up half that bag. Sorry about that, Jellybean.
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