With everything I’d been up to lately, I sure hoped not.
“We could save a lot of time and effort if you would just tell me what you were talking about.” I lifted my eyebrows as encouragement.
He laughed. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not this time.”
“But you tell me everything.”
He gave me a kiss. “Not this time.”
I wasn’t sure what to think about that. I knew that Mason dealt with official, confidential Fenton County business all the time, and usually I didn’t care. But I had a gut feeling that this mystery news somehow involved me. Or rather the Lady in Black. “Is it about that big auction on Thanksgiving Day?”
He cocked his head with an ornery grin. “Good try.” He slid his hand around my back and pulled me to his chest. “Where were we when we got interrupted?”
Mason was doing a good job of reminding me when Muffy started barking again.
“Hello!” Maeve called out from the living room. “Is anyone home?”
“Your momma’s here,” I said, breathless as I pushed him away and straightened my shirt. “She’s early.”
Mason groaned. “The universe is conspiring against me.”
It was conspiring against both of us.
We found Maeve in the living room squatted down next to her overnight bag so she could pet Muffy. She smiled at us. “I wondered where you two were hidden.” Picking up on the teasing tone in her voice, I blushed.
“You’re here early, Mom,” Mason said, putting his arm around my back.
“The movers finished a couple hours ahead of schedule.”
“Well, we’re so glad you’re here!” I said. “You must be exhausted.” I pulled her into a hug, then steered her toward the sofa in the living room so she could take a seat. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. I have dinner taken care of.”
Maeve’s eyes lit up. “You can go back to the Piggly Wiggly now?”
I heaved out a sigh of frustration. “No. Mason’s still working on that.”
Mason laughed. “It’s taken some impressive negotiating on my part, but I think we’re close to an agreement.” His face lit up with a mischievous gleam. “Did you get Neely Kate to go shopping for you?”
I put my hands on my hips and scowled. “No. I picked up enchiladas from the new Mexican restaurant—Buenaza Zarigüeya—on the way home.”
His eyes widened. “I’m having a hard time trusting food from a restaurant whose name means Kind Opossum. I hope you got the vegetarian enchiladas.”
“Fine, mister,” I said in a haughty tone. “Suit yourself. I’ll give your share to Muffy.”
Hearing her name, Muffy shot toward me, shaking her tail so hard her back end swayed.
“See?” I said. “Muffy’s not so particular.”
A stench filled the room, and I gagged, waving my hand in front of my face. Traitor.
Mason burst out laughing. “I suspect Muffy’s already had my share, and she’s taken a bullet for me.” He bent down to pet her head, then stood up, choking. “That dog deserves a medal of honor.”
I stomped off to the kitchen, and Mason followed on my heels.
“Rose, I was teasing. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”
“You didn’t,” I sighed, pulling the pan out of the oven and setting it down on the stove top with a plop. “I’m just frustrated that I can’t go grocery shopping.” I shut the oven door and put my hands on my hips, still wearing the oven mitt. “It’s embarrassing, Mason.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll put more effort into getting your Piggly Wiggly privileges reinstated. In the meantime, why don’t you go to Peach Orchard Grocery?”
My mouth hung open. “Are you serious? That place fails the health department inspection on a regular basis. At least Buenaza Zarigüeya rated a ninety-two on their inspection.” I lifted my eyebrows in an I-told-you-so look. “Yes, I checked.”
He wrapped his arms around my back and tugged me to his chest. “God, I love you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice muffled from being buried in his shirt. “Because I’m serving you food that may or may not contain road kill?”
He chuckled, his chest rumbling against my cheek. “No, because I would never in a million years have expected to have this conversation with anyone, and I love every minute of it.”
I leaned my head back to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t think you can sweet talk your way into getting some enchiladas.”
“You’re a harsh woman, Rose Gardner.”
“Yeah,” I teased. “Remember that the next time you insult a woman’s dinner, whether she cooks it or not.”
“I have so much to learn.”
“You’ve got that right.”