In Sickness and in Death - By Lisa Bork Page 0,1

a return engagement. They might never let me out again.

Ray’s comment about Erica bothered me. She hadn’t been around much lately, but I hadn’t given it much thought. Then again, I hadn’t given anything much thought for the last few months. I assumed she was working and dating one of the many men who crossed her path at the restaurant bar where she waitresses. She’d held the job for over six months now, a lifetime achievement for her. It seemed like when she got her act together, my world had fallen apart.

What was I missing, hiding out here at home? Had she lost her job and failed to inform me? Was she having public sex, the final frontier for her? Would the word robbery soon be mentioned in the same breath as her name, as it had been more than once in the past? Or some worse crime?

I stretched out farther on my stomach, trying to work the kinks out of my spine. It had compressed with all the months of sitting around doing nothing but staring out the window. I might not even be five-four anymore.

Something brushed my cheek. I swatted it away. As my fingers tangled in it, I realized it was a dust bunny. I’d let more than myself go over the last few months. Our bungalow needed a thorough cleaning. So did Ray’s pipes.

I reached for the baby quilt draped on the side of the crib. I could handle Ray’s ultimatum. It was time to resurface. I wouldn’t even bother to point out to him that tomorrow was Monday and my sports car boutique would be closed. But first I needed a few more hours of sleep.

____

Ray banged the cabinet doors in the kitchen. When I rose onto my knees, my whole body ached. The floor hadn’t made for warm, restful sleep.

I snuck past Ray and hit the bathroom. Ten minutes later I’d nicked my legs five times while shaving and washed my hair twice. I was pleasantly surprised to find the brown locks had only a few new strands of gray to betray my thirty-eight years. I could use a haircut though. It took me twice as long to blow dry the wavy hair that fell to my shoulder blades. Then I tackled my overabundance of eyebrow and toenail.

Getting dressed proved more difficult. I hadn’t eaten much in the last four months, and my size eight clothes hung on me. I found a long black skirt with an elastic waist, slit the waistband, hacked off several inches of elastic, and safety-pinned the edges together. When I teamed the skirt with a white sweater and my favorite black dress boots, I didn’t look too bad. A touch of blush made me look less wan. Mascara made my eyes pop.

I approached the kitchen with trepidation, hoping Ray wouldn’t pick up yelling at me where he’d left off last night.

Instead, one of Ray’s famous Belgian waffles awaited me, drenched in syrup and whipped cream. He used to make them every Sunday, but I couldn’t remember the last time he had. For an all masculine male, he could be very Betty Crocker.

He looked up from the paper, his gaze raking me from head to toe. “You look gorgeous.”

I felt immediately forgiven as I slid onto the stool next to him at the breakfast bar. “Like Valerie Bertinelli?” Ray had a thing for her all through high school, with her pictures adorning his locker. My resemblance to her had attracted him.

He twirled my long hair in his fingers. “Exactly. Gorgeous.” He tipped my chin and kissed my lips. “Too bad I’m late for work.”

He stood and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle from his perfectly pressed county sheriff’s department uniform. Deputy Ray Parker. God, I loved a man in uniform, especially this handsome dark-haired stud. I blushed, happy to think this for the first time in months. Then I noticed a few more gray hairs at Ray’s temples and worried I had caused them. Or had all his cases been preying on his mind while I’d sat, unwilling to listen?

He smiled at me, clearly pleased to see me up and about and ready to go. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. No strawberries for the waffles. It’s not the right season for them, anyway. Here’s the shopping list.” Ray leaned in for another kiss, lingering as he stroked his thumb over my lower lip. My nether regions tingled in response—not that I felt like doing anything about it. It was just good to know I