Troublemaker Read online

  Morgan wasn’t completely happy, but he definitely felt better prepared in case the shit hit the fan.

  Three days before the Heritage Parade, Bo said, “The divorce goes before Judge Harper today. Fingers crossed there’s no problem.”

  Morgan thought seriously about going to town with her, just for the entertainment value, but he had something he wanted to do, so he said, “Want to leave Tricks here with me, in case you get tied up dealing with the Goodings?”

  She looked at the golden with regret. He knew she liked having Tricks with her, and God knew the dog was always happier with Bo, but there were practical matters to consider such as Tricks’s need for regular outside trips. He was a handy dog-sitter, and Tricks would be more comfortable.

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll call if I’m going to be late.”

  She left, and Tricks did the staring-out-the-window-and-looking-forlorn routine. Leaving her to it, Morgan opened the door to the storage area beneath the stairs and spotted the treadmill Bo had mentioned to him. It was folded up, had wheels for ease of moving it, and wasn’t blocked by too much other junk. He moved some boxes around and rolled the machine out. The activity pulled on the scar tissue in his chest but—not much. As soon as he built up his stamina some more, he’d start with the weights.

  The treadmill was a decent one, electric, had an incline; he could get a good workout on it. Going up and down the hill with Bo and Tricks on their walks was good, but he wanted more.

  Intrigued, Tricks came over to inspect the machine, giving it a good sniffing, then she got her ball, went to the door, and stood there looking from Morgan to the door and back again. He didn’t obey her hint fast enough, so she went to him and swatted his knee with her paw, which was her signal that she really really needed to pee and he’d better hurry.

  “You’re a pushy little shit, you know?” he said conversationally. She didn’t care as long as she got what she wanted. She bounced out when he opened the door, dropped her ball, and took off running.

  He was anxious to get to the treadmill, but he was well aware that Tricks had to have her fun time before she’d consent to pee, so he threw the ball. Then he threw it again. And again. On the fourth time, he said sternly, “Young lady, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble if you don’t take a piss this time.” He didn’t know what trouble she’d be in, but it sounded good. He threw the ball, and Tricks went after it. He could have sworn that she kept a weather eye on him as she retrieved it. She trotted back, still watching him, then paused and bumped her butt on the ground. If she’d held the pose a little longer he might have bought it, but all she did was a quick bump, then she was up again, trotting to him with her tail jauntily waving, certain she had fooled him.

  A laugh exploded out of him. All he could do was pet her and praise her, laughing the whole time, because, holy hell, she’d just pretended to pee. And she was so gleeful that she’d fooled him, as if she’d played the best joke ever.

  Evidently she’d been lying about needing to pee too; all she’d wanted was to play.

  He gave up, surrendered, mentally waved the white flag. He was seriously in love with this dog.

  He took her back inside and finished setting up the treadmill, then went upstairs to put on his running shoes. Maybe he was being too optimistic to think he’d actually be running much, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

  Going back downstairs, he stood on the side rails of the treadmill and attached the safety clip to his shirt. He set the workout he wanted; nothing fancy this time, just a steady fast walk on a few degrees incline, to see where he stood now so he’d know what he needed to do. Tricks came to lie down beside the treadmill, resting her muzzle on her paws.

  He turned on the treadmill and stepped onto the moving belt, found the pace.

  As soon as the belt started moving, Tricks lifted her head, her ears perked up and her eyes bright with interest. Then she got up and trotted away; evidently she was already bored.

  Morgan monitored himself: Legs, good. Breathing, good. Heart rate, good. Of course, he’d barely gotten started, but overall . . . not bad.

  Tricks reappeared, tennis ball in her mouth. Damn it, now she wanted to go outside. He said, “Sorry, princess—”

  She all but danced to the front of the treadmill, and let the ball go.

  It shot between his feet and across the room, and she darted after it.

  Morgan swore at the top of his lungs as he tried to avoid the ball and keep his balance on the moving belt. For a split second he felt like one of those cartoon characters slipping on a banana peel, with feet and arms going in four different directions. He grabbed the bars and caught himself just before his head made contact with the control panel, but his feet kept going. He gathered himself, braced his weight on the bars, and did an in-air half-jack. His feet landed on the side rails.

  Having retrieved her ball, Tricks trotted back to the front of the treadmill while he still stood there spread-eagled over the moving belt, and let it go again.

  “Shit! Fuck!” he growled in exasperation and shut the machine off.

  When the belt slowed to a stop, he got off the machine and glared at the dog who was back at the front, gently waving her tail as she gave him a quizzical look. It made no sense to her that he’d stopped her new game almost as soon as it started.

  Morgan sat down on the floor, and she immediately came to him to be petted. The bad news was that he obviously wouldn’t be able to get on the treadmill if Tricks was anywhere in the house.

  The good news was that at least he hadn’t killed himself.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE CALL CAME IN LATE IN THE AFTERNOON, RIGHT before time to go home. Listening to it over the radio, and to Loretta’s responses, Bo muttered, “Shit,” and dropped her head into her hands. They’d been so close to making it through the day without any drama.

  It was Jesse’s day off; Officer Patrick Jones was in the station. He said, “I’m on it, Chief,” and was out the door. That was the fastest she’d seen him move in the entire time she’d known him.

  Loretta said wistfully, “Man, I’d like to see this.”

  Bo wasn’t of the same opinion. She’d been this close to going home. She could feel a headache coming on, precipitated by the drama and long hours she knew were coming at her. “I was hoping everything would go smoothly and the whole town could move on.”

  “Yeah, but you’re not a Hobson. We live for shit like this.” Loretta paused. “Want me to call Jesse in? Not that Patrick can’t handle it, but Jesse has a way of settling people down.” That was because Jesse had perfected the cop’s “don’t mess with me” stare.

  “He’ll be on a date with Kalie,” Bo replied, but they both knew Jesse would be monitoring his radio anyway, and he was probably already on his way with Kalie beside him. No one would want to be left behind in tomorrow morning’s gossip, not even Jesse.

  For herself, she’d like to pack it in and go home, but that option was off the table now.

  She got her cell phone and called home. Morgan picked up on the third ring.

  “Anything wrong?” he said by way of greeting, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

  “The divorce proceedings didn’t go well. I’ll probably be several hours late. Go ahead and eat whatever you feel like eating, and feed Tricks. I’ll grab something here when I have time. How’s Tricks?”

  “She’s fine. She nearly killed me, but she’s fine.”

  “Okay, good,” she said absently, and hung up. After a few seconds she realized what she’d said and started to call him back but gave herself a little shake and forgot about it. With Tricks, it could be anything. She’d find out later.

  Within twenty minutes, the police station was a mob scene. She’d expected to see Emily and Kyle brought in, or at least Kyle, but that wasn’t the case. Patrick arrived first, with Melody Gooding handcuffed in the backseat of his cruiser. She was yelling and cussing at Patrick, kicking the seat, and generally raising hell. Then Jesse ro