Trace of Fever
Page 108

She was happy. Happier than she’d ever known possible, and with every minute, she loved him more.
Normally she’d be worried about the shop after being away so long. But she and Trace had been there twice to check on things, and surprisingly, Gary did a great job running it. Once the responsibility fell to him, he’d stepped up and proven to be even more attentive to details than Priss herself. During each visit, she’d found the shop well organized, the stock in order, all the computer work up-to-date and not even a speck of dust marring the appearance.
It was nice not having to think about the shop.
In fact, she didn’t have to think about much of anything. Maybe that was part of the problem. She was so used to focusing on how she’d get to Murray, how she’d make him pay, and now…she felt in limbo.
Blast him. Where had Trace gone and why did he still not confide in her?
As Priss strode onto the sun-warmed dock, the dogs looked up at her, and Liger stirred. He tended to trail the dogs wherever they went, but he drew the line at actually getting in the water. He’d walk along the shore on the rock retaining wall, and the fish fascinated him. But most of all he’d taken to sunning himself. Now, with Priss smiling at him, he got up to wind in and around her bare legs.
“You’ve been even more pampered than me, haven’t you?”
Liger brushed his teeth over her knee, gave her one of his sweet meows and then fell to his back again, stretching out and closing his eyes.
Matt popped up over the end of the dock. “He’s really taken over running the place.”
“I can see that.” Liger got attention from everyone, sat where he wanted, slept when he felt like it, and enjoyed playing with Sargie and Tai. While she and Trace traveled, Chris insisted on keeping the cat. Liger didn’t need constant supervision, but Chris had gotten close to him, and vice versa.
With Liger now resting, Priss pulled off her cover-up.
Matt whistled. “Nice suit.”
She looked down at herself. The suit was pretty basic; beige with no adornment, not an itty-bitty bikini but not overly modest, either. It was almost the exact color as her skin, so it didn’t clash with anything, but the material was thick enough to conceal all things vital. “It’s the first one I’ve ever owned. It looks okay?”
Chris swam over to the dock, too. Crossing his forearms over the end, he surveyed her. “Trace hasn’t seen it yet, has he?”
She shook her head, and tried not to sound sour when she said, “He’s out and about somewhere.” She flapped a hand. “Don’t know where, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”
Matt dunked his head, then came up for air. His bleached hair stood in wet, spiky disarray, but as always, he looked good. “I’m surprised anyone could separate you two.” He swiped water from his face. “It’s been what? A couple of months together now, right? All of it nonstop clinginess.”
Dropping her towel and cover-up on a chair, Priss pretended annoyance. “Why are you here again?”
He preened theatrically. “Molly liked what I did with your hair so much that I do hers now, too. Dare even added a regular salon room in the basement for me. Makes it pretty easy to work and it saves Molly from having to suffer through the crowds and incompetence in town.”
Priss was willing to bet that Dare enjoyed knowing Molly was safe. They all trusted Matt, as far as it went, and he did do fabulous work.
Chris still hung off the end of the dock looking all too serious. “So.” He splashed Priss with a cupped hand. “What exactly are you doing down here?”
“I’m getting ready to swim with you guys.”
“No, I meant with Trace.” He glanced past her up the hill toward the house, then back again. “If that suit is supposed to push him over the edge, I’m guessing it’ll work.”
Priss doubted anyone or anything could push Trace anywhere that he didn’t intend to go. “I needed a suit, so I bought one.” She sat on the end of the dock next to Chris and let her feet dangle in the water. “And why do you always attribute ridiculous childish emotions to everything I do?”
He shook his head. “Just wondering why you haven’t yet told Trace how you feel.”
“How do you know I haven’t?”
Matt laughed. “Your baleful expressions of discontent?”
Chris just stared at her, waiting.
Fine, why not be honest? “I don’t know how he feels, that’s why.”
“That’s so lame.” Chris splashed her again, harder this time, so that the water hit her in the face. “Who says the guy has to spill his guts first?”
Her temper sparked. “I’ve spilled plenty of guts for him! I confided in him about my mother long before he’d tell me anything. Do you know how long it took him to even admit—”
Matt said, “La, la, la…” and wisely dunked his head under the water again.
“—that he was undercover?”
“You know why,” Chris told her.
It annoyed Priss that she’d forgotten to be cautious. Obviously Matt was a welcome, trusted friend, but he wasn’t in on the business, and she knew better than to mention anything about it. “In the beginning, sure.”
“And now?”
“Now I don’t need him to tell me.” She looked out across the water. “I’ve figured it all out.”
“So what’s the problem?”