Page 27 of Tide and Seek (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #8)

I squinted at the other man, recognizing the sandy hair and the red Coastal Pest Solutions ball cap. “Yes, I think it is.”

“What in the world? Why would Luke be mad at Ethan?” C.J. took a few steps toward the beach to get a better look, but she stayed in the shadow of my house so she wouldn’t be seen. “Luke looks ready to punch Ethan. Should we do something?”

“It’s not really any of our business.” Despite my statement, I was as nosey as she was and I moved beside her, straining to listen. The ocean breeze carried their voices clearly enough, but without context I had no idea what they were arguing about.

“But it’s right there,” Luke shouted, his hair sticking up in messy blond tufts like a toddler throwing a tantrum. Ethan said something in a quiet voice, and Luke screeched, “And I don’t need your permission, by the way.”

Ethan made frantic shushing noises while glancing around uneasily. “Keep your voice down,” he said harshly, the agitation in his voice carrying on the wind.

“No. I don’t have to listen to you,” Luke yelled, his response loud enough that a couple walking their dog further down the beach turned to look. “You said you’d handle it but you haven’t done a thing.”

“I’m doing my best,” Ethan rasped.

“Maybe you don’t understand how desperate I am.” Luke grabbed hold of Ethan’s arm, but Ethan angrily pulled away.

“I’m as desperate as you are. Maybe even more so.”

Waving his arms wildly, Luke growled, “I’m done waiting on you.”

“You do something stupid and you’ll regret it, kid.” Ethan’s face was red, his hands clenched into fists.

Luke screamed something unintelligible at Ethan, getting in the other man’s face. Personally, I thought Luke was playing with fire. Ethan had four inches and at least fifty pounds on him, and he looked about five seconds away from laying the younger man out in the sand.

As if reading my mind, C.J. whispered, “God, I’m afraid Ethan’s going to punch Luke if he doesn’t stop yelling in his face.”

“Agreed.”

We both slumped with relief when Ethan suddenly turned and stalked off toward his van parked at the edge of the beach. Luke kicked at the sand, shouted something incoherent at Ethan’s retreating figure, and then trudged in the opposite direction toward his own house.

“What in the hell could that have been about?” C.J. turned to me, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen Luke that upset before. He was out of control, taunting Ethan like that. I really thought Ethan was going to hit him, which would be completely out of character for a guy like Ethan.”

“Luke’s lucky Ethan controlled himself,” I murmured, watching as Ethan sped out of the beach colony, tires screeching. “Could the argument have been about Luke’s ant problem?”

C.J. wrinkled her brow. “Ants?”

“Yes, remember Ethan said Luke had called him to get rid of ants?”

“Oh, yeah.” C.J. grimaced. “Well, that might explain why Ethan was here, but I can’t imagine ants could get anyone that riled up. And you’d think if it was ants, Luke would be mad at the company, not at Ethan.”

“I agree, but people do take their anger out on service people when they’re unhappy about things.”

C.J. bit her bottom lip, a line between her light brows. “I don’t think that was about ants.”

I sighed and admitted, “Me neither.”

C.J. suddenly yelped. “Oh, shit! My ice cream.” She started for her car, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll see you and Royce tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m., Max.”

“Can’t wait,” I returned, hoping I didn’t sound as disingenuous as I felt.

****

I forgot all about Luke and Ethan’s fight on the beach when I stepped inside and saw dinner waiting on the table. Royce had grilled two thick ribeye steaks, seared to perfection, with roasted asparagus on the side, and he’d opened a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon.

“I was going to help with dinner,” I said, heading into the kitchen where Royce was washing his hands.

“No need. You were busy handling the insurance stuff.” He dried his hands on a paper towel and then slipped his arms around me. “Besides, I wanted to pamper you a little.” He lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

I shivered at the warmth of his mouth, but then said grumpily, “I’m supposed to be pampering you this trip.”

“It’s not a competition, is it?”

“No.” I sighed as he trailed little gentle kisses down the side of my neck. “I mean, it’s kind of a competition. Everything is.”

He lifted his head, frowning. “No.”

“Okay, it’s not precisely a competition, but you’re always the nice one in this relationship. This trip was supposed to let me be the nice one for a change.”

“You’re always nice to me.”

“That’s not true,” I murmured. “It doesn’t come naturally to me like it does you.”

He studied me, his brown eyes warm. “How about you help me do the dishes? That’s something a nice boyfriend would do.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Actually, since you cooked dinner, I should do the dishes by myself. So by helping me, you’re being the nice one again.”

He laughed. “Max, please let this go. I’m starving. I just want to have a pleasant dinner with you.”

I smiled sheepishly. “Okay. Let’s eat.”

“Thank goodness.” He released me and we went to the dining room table.

He took the seat across from me and I poured us each a glass of wine.

Putting his napkin on his lap, he glanced up. “I saw you outside talking to C.J. You were out there a while. Everything okay?”

His question reminded me of the argument I’d witnessed between Ethan and Luke. “C.J. is fine, but we saw Luke and Ethan out on the beach arguing.” I filled him in on the details, and he frowned as he listened.

“They sound like they were pretty heated.”

“Yep. I really thought they were going to get into a fistfight.” I picked up my silverware and cut into the tender steak, revealing a soft pink center. I took my first bite, and the rich, smoky flavor made me close my eyes in appreciation. “That’s really good,” I mumbled.

“Thanks.” He smiled at the compliment, but then his expression became serious again. “I got the impression the bug guy was only here once a month, but he seems to be around a lot more than that.”

“I think that’s because Luke requested an extra appointment to deal with his ant problem.” I sipped my cabernet, enjoying the hints of blackberry and oak.

“Hmmm.” Royce focused on his meal, but there was still a line between his brows. After a few moments, his mood seemed to lighten. “Did you want to go to the Getty and then have lunch at Geoffrey’s tomorrow?”

“Sounds like the perfect day to me.” I smiled, feeling happier. The combination of excellent food, good wine, and Royce sitting across from me was exactly what I needed to wash away the lingering stress of the day.

“What time is Tippity Top picking up the Hummer and dropping off the new car?” he asked.

“In the morning, so it shouldn’t interfere with our plans.”

“Good. We need a day where it’s just about us.” Royce fingered the stem of his wineglass. The evening sun slanted through the windows, hitting the wineglasses and sending fractured rainbows of light across the table.

“We do.”

“You looking forward to C.J.’s party tomorrow night?” As he asked the question, he looked amused.

“You know I’m not.”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun schmoozing with people who aren’t from Rainy Dale. Odds are no one will ask you to examine their rash during the party like they might back home.”

“No, but there’s a good chance I might unintentionally insult C.J.’s work pals and spill my drink down the front of my shirt within the first ten minutes of the party.”

He grinned. “You think it’ll take a whole ten minutes?”

I gave him a dirty look. “Maybe you’re not the nice boyfriend after all.”

“Told you so.”

I startled when my phone suddenly buzzed with a flurry of texts. “Maybe it’s the police with some information about the car that tried to run us off the road?”

Royce cocked his head. “I don’t think they’d text you that info.”

“Oh, well then it’s probably just spam.” Glancing down, I saw I had several texts from an unknown number. I opened my messages and inhaled sharply as I read:

You’re a murderer.

You’re not wanted here.

Go back to Rainy Dale, or die.