Shame on Him

“So what did you say to the officer who gave you the ticket that made him so angry?” I ask, moving the talk away from his nether regions.

Dallas laughs and the corner of his mouth curves up, showcasing a dimple. “He was taking his sweet-ass time walking back and forth between his car and mine while he checked my background. I may or may not have told him that if he laid off the doughnuts he’d be able to move faster.”

I shake my head at him in disapproval.

“Hey, you can’t fault me for being honest,” he says.

“Well, as thrilling as this was, I have a meeting in five minutes. Oh, and don’t worry about thanking me or paying me for the time I just wasted bailing you out. I’ve already decided how you’ll pay me back.”

This time, I turn and walk away quickly before he can stop me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he yells to my back.

Without turning around, I raise my hand in the air and give him a finger wave.

“We’ll be in touch soon, Mr. Osborne.”

As I push through the courtroom doors, I hear Dallas shout my name, but I ignore him and continue walking.

I made a deal with the judge that Dallas would do twenty hours of community service by giving talks to a few of the local high schools on the dangers of speeding. I think for now, I’ll keep that little tidbit to myself. First, I plan on making Dallas pay me back by forcing him to work with me on this murder investigation . . .





CHAPTER 9




Hello, darling! How’s work?”

I sigh into the phone. “Doug, please stop calling me ‘darling.’ It’s uncomfortable.”

My ex-husband huffs and I can tell he’s pouting. “Oh, Lorelei, don’t be like that. I was just calling to see if you’ll be bringing a date to the wedding in a few weeks. You’re coming, right? We never got your response card.”

If you ask Doug, he’ll tell you our divorce was one hundred percent amicable. He assumes we should still be best friends even though he failed to mention he was gay. When he MARRIED ME. I tried to remain mad at him, but it’s difficult. He really does make a wonderful friend.

“And just so you know, it’s perfectly okay if you’re coming alone. Gary has a single cousin who is just dying to meet you,” Doug adds.

Perfect. My gay ex-husband is trying to set me up. Is there anything more humiliating?

“Of course I’ll be at the wedding, but if you put me at a table with anyone’s single cousin, I will wear white and ruin your entire color scheme,” I tell him.

“Well, now you’re just being cruel. I’ll put you down for a plus one just in case. We’ll talk soon. Kisses!”

I end the call and throw my cell phone down on my desk a little too forcefully.

“You know, in this instance, it’s okay to call him an asshole,” Kennedy tells me as she walks over and drops a file on my desk.

“I can’t call Doug that. He means well, I guess.”

Paige walks through the door with a tray of coffees in her hand. “Who means well?”

Kennedy pulls a cup off of her tray. “Doug. He just called to talk about the wedding.”

Paige rolls her eyes and sets the tray down on my desk. “Screw him. He’s an asshole.”

“See? I told you.” Kennedy smiles. “Come on, say it. ‘Doug is an asshole.’”

Grabbing my own cup of coffee, I open the lid and blow on it. “Doug is not an . . . asshole. He’s happy. He’s getting married. I can’t be angry at him for that.”

“The fuck you can’t!” Kennedy argues. “He married you when he knew all along he was gay. Asshole. You caught him screwing a man in your living room. Asshole. He still invited you to his wedding. HUGE asshole.”

I take a sip of my coffee. “Can we talk about something else, please? I don’t want to think about this wedding until absolutely necessary.”

Kennedy perches her hip on the edge of my desk. “Fine. Let’s talk about your vocabulary. Say ‘fuck.’”

I stare at her in irritation.

“Come on, I know straight-laced Lorelei is just dying to break out of her shell and scream some obscenities. How are you going to work side by side with Dallas Osborne and not call him a fuckhead at least once?” Kennedy asks.

I told the girls all about the plan I hatched in court the other day. They thought it was brilliant, but Kennedy has been trying to prepare me the last few days by turning me into a gutter mouth.

“If I think a situation warrants it, I will swear. I don’t need to practice,” I tell her.

Kennedy shrugs. “Hey, I’m just looking out for you. I don’t want you to lose your shit one of these days and yell something embarrassing like, ‘You’re a shitdamn hell fuck!’”

Ignoring her, I look at Paige. “Did you send that e-mail to Dallas?”

She smiles and takes a seat at her desk across from me. “Oh, I sure did. And I blacked out half of the information like you suggested and told him if he wanted the rest of it, he’d need to contact you.”