I leaned sideways and looked up at him. “Excuse me. I beg to differ. You wiped your nose on mine. You got boy cooties—and worse—all over it.”
He stopped walking. “First of all,” he said, holding up one gloved finger, “my mother washed that T-shirt. It was fine. Second of all, I was making social commentary when I wiped my nose on your shirt.”
“Social commentary?” I said, struggling not to laugh.
Nick pulled himself up to his full six-foot-plus height. “Yes. Social commentary. Maybe you don’t remember, but you tried to say that those Mighty Morph-whatever Power People could take on the Justice League. Wiping my nose on that shirt was my way of showing my disdain for your opinion.”
“Mighty Morphin Power Rangers,” I said, putting the emphasis on the last word. “Not Power People. And for your information, the Rangers could have wiped the floor with the Justice League.”
Nick gave a snort of laughter. “Not likely.”
“I have one word for you,” I said. “Megazord.” Then I pressed my free arm diagonally across my chest.
“What? Are you about to swear some kind of oath? The code of terrible teenybopper kids’ shows?”
“The Mighty Morphin Power Rangers is classic TV,” I said. I tapped my jacket with one finger. “I have a T-shirt on under this, and I’m protecting it from you.”
Nick started to laugh, and he pulled me back against his side. “I missed this, you know,” he said as we started walking again.
“Being reminded about your dubious taste in superheroes?” I teased.
He scrunched up his nose at me. “No. I mean being with someone who knows me so well. It’s nice.”
I nodded. “Yeah, it is.”
He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze.
“And, yes, Jess and I are planning on Thursday-night jam. You want us to save you a seat?”
“Please,” he said. “I’m not on call.”
I bumped him with my shoulder. “Are you bringing your guitar?”
“Are you?” he countered.
“Point taken,” I said.
“We should get together and play sometime,” Nick said. “My mother thinks you spend too much time working.”
I laughed. “She says the same thing about you.”
“That’s because she wants grandchildren.” He steered me around a slippery patch on the sidewalk.
“She told you that?” I asked.
“Not directly. She just points out every baby she sees when we’re out anywhere.”
I bumped his hip with mine. “Oh, you poor thing,” I said with mock concern.
“I’m not going to get any sympathy from you, am I?” he said.
I shook my head. “Nope. I work with your mother and Rose, and Liz is in the store all the time. They’re always trying to stage-manage my life.” I smiled up at him. “Suck it up, big guy.”
He laughed and pulled his hat down over his forehead a bit more with his free hand. “So what’s new with you?”
“Not much,” I said. “The store’s been a little quiet, but we’re getting more traffic on the website.”
“Do I dare ask what’s happening with Charlotte’s Angels?” he said. “If I ask Mom, she changes the subject.”
After they’d “solved” Arthur Fenety’s murder last spring, Rose, Liz and Charlotte had decided to open their own detective agency, Charlotte’s Angels, Discreet Investigations, the Angels for short. They’d set up their office in the sunporch at the store. Winter had moved them inside to the far end of the back room.
“They haven’t had any big cases,” I said. “I think they found someone’s missing teeth.”
Nick sighed. “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish I were,” I said.
We turned a corner. “I thought they’d give up this whole private detective business.”
I shook my head. “Liz, Rose and your mother. You really thought they’d just ‘give up’? Did you grow up somewhere else?”
He made a face. “I know. Wishful thinking on my part. Tell me how the work is going in the old garage. When I talked to Liam, he said he got you some shelving for storage.” Nick and my brother were good friends.
“He did,” I said. “Four big wall units. They’re in great shape and the price was terrific. All I need now is for him or Dad to come for the weekend and help me get them up. It’s more than Mac and I can do alone.”
“Let me know if I can help,” he said.
“I will. Maybe I can lure him to town with the chance of hanging out doing gross boy stuff with you.”
Nick nodded. “Now that I think about it, it’s been way too long since Liam and I have spent the evening down at Sam’s. I’m a pretty good wingman, if I say so myself.” He raised an eyebrow and gave me a sly smile when he said “wingman.”
“I don’t want to talk about Liam’s love life,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to think about it. As Avery would say: Ewww!”
We walked in comfortable silence for a moment.
“Did you miss it when you were gone?” I asked. “North Harbor. Everyone.”
“You know, at the time, I would have said I didn’t.” He looked down at me. His mouth moved as though he were trying out the feel of what he wanted to say before he said it. “Now I realize I did,” he said. “More than I knew.”
We talked about the changes in North Harbor in the years we’d both been away, and suddenly I realized we were in front of my house.
I let go of Nick’s arm. “Thank you for the walk home.” I yawned, tried to stifle it and failed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not the company. It’s just been a long day.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. And thank you for your company.” He looked up for a moment at the blue-black night sky shot with stars. “It’s good to be home,” he said when his eyes finally met mine again.
We looked at each other, the moment stretching out between us. Then Nick cleared his throat and glanced over at the house. I’d left the outside light on. “You’d better get in. It’s cold out here.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead, just below my hat.
I headed for the steps, fighting the urge to touch the spot with my fingers. I turned at the door and raised one hand in good night. Nick did the same and then turned and headed down the sidewalk.
I gave in and put my fingers to my forehead. Was it just my imagination that I seemed to still be able to feel the warmth of his lips?
* * *
Avery was waiting by the side door of Liz’s house in the morning, standing under the outside light, huddled into her giant parka and big polar fleece mittens, hugging a square tin covered with pink peonies to her chest.
“It’s so freakin’ cold,” she said as she climbed into the passenger side of the SUV. “Can I have hot chocolate? Please, please, please?”
“Yes,” I said. “If Lily doesn’t have any made, we’ll stop somewhere and get you some. How did the cake turn out?”
She threw back her hood and smiled. “So excellent.” She set the rectangular tin on the seat between us. “This is for coffee-break time this morning,” she said. “There’s enough for everybody.”
I smiled at her. “Thank you, Avery. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” she said, fastening her seat belt. “Rose gave me that look. You know the one I mean, where she wants you to do something nice, but she doesn’t say it because she wants you to do it without being told.”
I did.
Avery flipped through the radio stations as we drove down to the bakery. I parked directly in front of the shop and we got out. I peered through the front window, but there was no sign of Lily at the counter getting ready for her day.
“That’s odd,” I said.
Avery shrugged. “Maybe she forgot we were coming.”
“Maybe,” I agreed, although that wasn’t like Lily at all. Then again, neither was last night’s outburst.
Avery tried the door. “Hey, Sarah, this is open,” she said.