Page 30 of Skin Game
THIRTEEN
GABE – WEDNESDAY, WESTFORT
He was surrounded by a sea of dizzying colors. Kites of all sizes, shapes, and types hung from the ceiling and walls and filled floor displays. This shop was one of his favorite places in Westfort, and regardless of being in semi-mortal danger, Gabe grinned at the visual delight.
“Can I help you? Oh, hey there, Gabe.”
Spooked, Gabe spun toward the deep voice. Duh, of course, someone would come and see why the bell had jingled.
“Greg! I was just, um, popping in to check out the new spring kite selection. What are the fashionistas of the kite world looking forward to most?”
Keep talking, Chance, it’s what you do best.
Greg Trainor, owner-operator of Windward Kite Shop, was a sexy former college athlete. Not only was he fit, but Greg was alsobuiltand a genuinely nice person too. Gabe wondered how he managed all that when Gabe could barely get up without moaning some days. Okay, most days, but no one except Casey needed to know that.
“Are you in the market for another kite? I told you, once youstart, it’s hard to stop,” Greg said with a grin. “I knew Casey would love it.”
Not long ago, Gabe had been searching for a birthday present for Casey and had ducked in to pick out a kite, although Randy hadn’t been on his heels that day.
“We haven’t had a chance to fly it yet,” Gabe admitted. But if the wide grin Gabe had received was anything to go by, Casey had liked the gift.
“Take him out to one of the hills and he’ll be sold on it. But he’s from around here, isn’t he?” Greg said. “He probably already has a good idea where to go. What’s going on today? Need ideas for another gift? I’m sure Otto could help you out.” He looked around as if either Otto or Casey might just pop up out of thin air. But Greg’s partner, Otto, had his own business to run, and as far as Gabe knew, Casey was doing outdoorsy forest-type things.
Gabe imagined taking Casey to Otto’s Erotica and quickly dismissed the idea.
“I don’t think we’re quite there yet.” Or ever would be. Gabe couldn’t imagine Casey casually wandering into the local adult sex toy shop, but this truth didn’t bother Gabe in the slightest. The fact that Casey Lundin deemed him worthy was enough.
More than enough.
Gabe still kept one ear out for the sound of Randy coming closer. Maybe he should leave and face the music; he didn’t want to cause Greg any trouble.
“Ah, well.” Greg gave an easy shrug. “Otto’s isn’t for everyone. Hey, when are you and Casey setting a date for dinner at our place? Wait too long and we’ll have to push it to the fall.”
While they were talking, Gabe eased around one of the floor displays, placing it between himself and the door. A shadowy silhouette passed by on the other side of the frosted glass door, and Gabe thought he recognized Randy’s caveman-style walk and that damn hoodie. Didn’t the jerk have anything better to do?
“Are youhidingfrom someone?” Greg whispered, his gaze drawn to the side door and then back to Gabe.
“Sort of? Maybe? Yes. Yes, I may be hiding from someone who thinks I broke into their house the other day.”
“Didyou break in?” Greg asked quietly.
“I had a key. But my appearance possibly could have been misunderstood as breaking in, yes. Of course, if Randy had returned what he’d taken from a friend of mine, well, my services wouldn’t have been required.”
Greg wrinkled his nose as if he could smell Randy from where he stood, stepped toward the door, and locked it with a decisive click. “Problem solved.”
Gabe breathed a sigh of relief although he still had to get to his car.
“At least he’ll have to come through the front entrance now. Hold it, are we talking about Randy Witherspoon? That looked like his walk. Is he also how you got that bang on your forehead?”
“Guilty on all counts.” Self-conscious, Gabe gently rubbed his brow in a futile effort to erase the bruise. “It’s kind of a long story, and I don’t know that I have the time to tell it to you right now.” On the other hand—“What do you know about good ol’ Randy?”
“Eh.” Greg wrinkled his nose again. “Most of us along the Strip know him and avoid him these days. I’ve heard that the Witherspoons were once the big dogs in town. I think Randy is one of the last ones left, but he might have some relatives still kicking around. I don’t think anyone will be terribly broken up when he fades into the woodwork.”
“Huh.” Gabe still listened for Randy. “A friend of a friend’s granddaughter was dating him.”
“She can do better. Oscar the Grouch would be better, apologies to Oscar. There’s something I’ve never been able to wrap myhead around. The jerk doesn’t brush his teeth, so what do women see in him? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.”
Another thought struck Gabe. “Greg, you know a lot of people in town. Who could I talk to about someone who lived here in the seventies? I’ve been to the library and County Records so far but haven’t had that much luck finding the information I want. I don’t really want everyone to know my business, so I’d need someone discreet.”