Eric cursed and dropped the shovel. He had five minutes to figure out how to disarm the bomb. He studied the clock, noting that there was a keypad to presumably enter a code that would shut the timer down. Of course, he had no idea what that code could be, so he needed another solution.
Trixie gave a startled yelp as she was suddenly released. She stumbled forward as the gunman shoved her away and turned to run. He only made it a few steps before he found himself facing Regan holding the ax. He brought his arm around, but Regan was faster. With a satisfying crack, the handle of the ax connected with his ribcage. He doubled over and Regan knocked him cold with a blow to the top of his head.
Eric grunted as he watched the man fall, then looked back at the bomb. “I’d tell you to run, kid, but…”
“I know. There’s not enough time to get far enough away.”
“I don’t suppose you know the disarm code? Did you come across that anywhere?”
“Wildcat?”
Trixie felt Regan’s hand on hers. She linked their fingers tightly together. “How many digits is it?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath.
“Four.”
She closed her eyes, thinking hard. Words and numbers swirled through her mind. Neall Regan had left multiple clues to get them here. There was no way he hadn’t left one as important as this. Not when his own children might have found themselves in this very situation. Four digits. Four numbers.
Her eyes snapped open again. “1-9-6-6.”
Eric tapped in the numbers and waited. There was a mechanical beep and the clock stopped. “Damn, kid. You’re good.”
Trixie suddenly realized her heart was hammering in her chest. There were black spots swimming before her eyes and she wondered if she was about to faint. “Regan?” she asked weakly. “Are you okay? I thought – I thought maybe you were…”
“No, baby. I’m fine. I’m sorry if I scared you. I have a bit of a headache but that’s all. I was just waiting for the chance to get the jump on him when he was distracted.”
A thrumming, thumping sound reached them. It took Trixie a moment to identify the noise and construct a mental picture to match. Puzzled, she turned and looked upward.
Eric stood, watching as two helicopters flew in low over the treetops. “The cavalry’s here,” he said, almost shouting to be heard. “About time.”
Trixie leaned unsteadily into Regan as the first copter landed. A figure jumped out, ducking low. He ran forward and after a moment, she was able to distinguish his features. “Hey, look. It’s your friend. Ricky. Oh. And there’s Agent Ben. How’d they find us?”
“I called Ricky on my cell while we were still in the diner,” Eric told her. “He’s been listening in the entire time. Good thing I have a government-funded, unlimited data plan, huh?”
“Oh. Very smart move,” she said. “I think I’m gonna sit down now. I don’t know why but my legs don’t seem to be wanting to hold me up any more.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan kept Trixie firmly pressed up against him for the entire ride back to the city. She said nothing, and though he knew she wasn’t actually asleep, he also knew she needed time before she was ready to talk. When they landed, they were immediately ushered into waiting vehicles and driven to a four-story building with heavily tinted glass windows.
Although they objected loudly, they found themselves split up, taken through separate doorways and into bare rooms that looked strikingly similar to the interrogation rooms of the SPD. Trixie sat down in one of two chairs in her room and crossed her arms, waiting. Almost an hour passed before the door was opened again, but she did nothing to betray her thoughts, sitting still and silent.
If she was surprised when he walked through the door, she hid it well, Agent Ben Kobayashi thought. She regarded him impassively with one brow raised in unspoken question as he took a seat at the table across from her.
“I’m here to present you with a choice,” he explained quietly, flipping open his folder and revealing a short stack of papers. “On behalf of the United States government.”
She remained silent, and he had to admit he was impressed by her ability to mask her feelings. He’d come to think of her as someone barreling through life at full speed with every emotion on full display, but now he realized she wasn’t necessarily the open book he’d believed.
“One. You can sign a series of non-disclosure agreements that signal your promise to never discuss, in any form of verbal or written communication, the events surrounding the past week and your involvement with the SADM bomb. If you violate the agreement, you would be facing considerable jail time and other serious consequences.” He paused, studying her, trying to gauge her reaction. “Two. You refuse to sign and you will be put on trial for a number of offenses, for which you will be found guilty and imprisoned for an indefinite amount of time.”
“And what offenses would those be?”
“Any we can think of. I understand there was an issue of theft. Also trespassing. Breaking and entering. Assault.”
“Uh, huh. Essentially, I’m being blackmailed by my own government.”
“Yes. From a certain point-of-view.”
“So this is it, huh? Just like I said from the start. My very own X-Files episode. Massive cover-up and we all pretend nothing happened. Are you really okay with this? People have died because of this.”
Ben closed the folder and sighed. “No, Trixie. I’m not okay with it. At all. But you have to know this isn’t a fight you can win. Choose your battles. Sign the agreements. The world needs you out there still taking on the bad guys, not locked away in some cell, forgotten and alone.”
“Is someone presenting this same not-really-a-choice-at-all to Regan?”
“Yes. And everyone else involved, including Jean.”
She held out one hand and Ben was conscious of the fact that he’d lost a lot of her respect, something that he found bothered him more than he would have expected. “Fine,” she said flatly. “Give me a pen.”
~~~~~~~~~~
From behind the mirrored window, Eric watched as Trixie quickly scrawled her name on each document Ben slid across to her.
“What do you think?” Dom asked him. “She’d make an extremely valuable asset.”
“You’ll never be able to recruit her.”
“What makes you so sure? She’s bright, inventive, quick on her feet, able to handle herself. All the things we look for in an agent.”
Eric glanced over at the older man. “Yes. She is. But she’s also got a moral code you’d never be able to break. If there’s one thing I am absolutely certain about with the kid, it’s that she’ll always be fighting on the side of the angels. Leave her alone, Dom. Let her live her life. I’ll courier you that resignation letter tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan was waiting for her when the elevator door opened and she stepped out into the building’s plush lobby. He took her hand and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “You ready to go home, Wildcat? Apparently there are a lot of people waiting to see you.”
“Us,” she corrected softly. “Waiting to see us. I’m not the only one they care about, you know.” She turned to look at Agent Kobayashi. “What happens now? What happens to the men who were chasing us? And the ones who killed Maggie and our pilot? And the guy who nearly got us blown to itty bitty bits?”
“They will be… handled.”
“Do you even know who they all are?” she asked skeptically. “Or where to find them?”
“I’m not at liberty to answer that.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“You don’t need to worry any more. Yes, there were people who wanted to you to find the bomb, and there were some who wanted to stop you-“
“Why?” she cut in. “Why stop us? I haven’t been able to come up with a really good answer for that one.”
“All I can tell you is that is has to do with selling the technology to the highest bidder, and a devaluation of that technology if the prototype is analyzed and reverse engineered.” He sighed and stepped closer. “Trixie. It’s done. You’re safe and your family and friends are safe. The weapon has been recovered and now there’s no reason for anyone to come after you about it ever again.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to Regan. “It was beneath the bomb.”
Slowly, Regan accepted the proffered letter. He turned the envelope over to see that it had “To Kalin & William” written across it. “You opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you did,” Regan muttered, echoing Trixie’s sarcastic tone.
“It’s from your father. He… does his best to explain his actions. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not you feel they were justified.”
“C’mon,” Trixie said, turning away. “Let’s go home.” She took two steps and stopped. “Oh, crap. We left the station wagon at the diner.”
“Your car was impounded,” Ben told her. “As evidence. It wasn’t drivable in any case. The front windshield was shot out.”
“Of course it was.”
“If you step outside, you’ll find a car and driver waiting for you.”
“No offense, but I think I’m already over this whole letting the government chauffer us around thing.”
“I believe you’ll find this driver acceptable. Mr. Wheeler sent a limo and Tom Delanoy to pick you up.”
Trixie looked up at Regan and for the first time in what seemed like years, she felt a genuine smile push up the corners of her mouth. “Of course he did,” they said together.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you gonna read it?” Trixie asked, as Regan continued to turn the envelope over and over in his hands.
“I don’t know. No. Of course I’m going to. I just don’t know if I want to right now.”
“Well, we have about an hour before we hit Sleepyside and you know what will happen then. We’ll be mobbed by everyone we have ever known and spend the next gosh knows how many days fielding questions and explaining how we can’t talk about it.”
“This is very true,” Tom said from the front seat. “You would not believe how hard it was to get everyone to sit tight and wait for me to bring you back. There was even talk of carpooling or renting a bus so they could all come along. No joke.”
“Before I read this, would you be willing to answer a few questions for me?” Regan asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk-“
“No. I’m good. Ask away. Though I think I know at least some of what you’re wondering.” She grinned broadly. “It’s time for the Scooby Doo wrap-up where all is explained.”
“Okay,” he said with a small chuckle. “First, how’d you come up with Paky Cola?”
“It occurred to me that there had to be more to the grave site locations than just spelling out ‘Shortstop.’ I mean, I know the towns made up your dog’s name, but why those specific towns? Why not something that started with a ‘t’ that wasn’t all the way in Colorado? So I played around with the letters and eventually that was what I got. Paky Cola. Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Colorado, Louisiana. Seriously, though, I didn’t think it was really a thing. I was totally gobsmacked when that old guy told us about Pa Kelly Cola.”
“Right.”
“It’s pretty evident your dad was the ‘adorable tyke’ who couldn’t say Pa Kelly. I’m guessing he must’ve told your sister about it at some point. Maybe even when you buried Shortstop. He expected her to know and remember. He thought between Shortstop and Paky Cola, you guys would know just where to go.”
“And the code? To stop the clock.”
“It was a double clue. The grave marker with 1966 as the birth year was for a four-year-old. Four digits. Also? 1966 wasn’t a leap year. There was no February 29, 1966. I’d actually figured that out a few days ago, but I wasn’t sure how it was significant.”
“You have the leap years memorized?”
“Hardly! I looked them up in Telluride. Turns out, and I guess this makes sense when you think about it, but leap years are all divisible by four. Well, there are some exceptions with some years ending in 00 or something, but anyway, 1966 was the only year on any of the stones that wasn’t a real leap year.”
Regan stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Eric’s right,” he said. “You’re good, Wildcat.”
“Are you gonna read the letter now?”
“The curiosity is killing you, isn’t it.”
“I’m dying here. Have some sympathy.”
Regan pulled the single sheet from the envelope and read it quickly. He grimaced and handed it to her.
After a moment, Trixie folded the paper and set it down. “Pandora’s Box,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Pandora’s Box. The Greek myth. Pandora opened the box and it let all the world’s evil out. All that was left at the bottom was hope. Your dad stole that bomb in the hopes that the technology would never be used and that by the time you found it, the Cold War would be over. The bomb was the evil. His letter is the hope.”
“The Cold War is over,” Regan pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean all wars are, or that it won’t ever be used.”
“No,” she agreed on a sigh. “For a man who was clearly as brilliant as your dad must’ve been, I gotta say he was awfully naïve. Anyway? Mart says it was actually Pandora’s Jar. The English translation was wrong or something.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I know this doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like we were gone for so much longer than we actually were,” Trixie said as she scratched Clyde’s chin and smiled at his loud purr. “And it feels like everything has changed and things should be different somehow, but really, it’s all still the same.”
Regan leaned back on the sofa and stretched out his legs. “I’m just glad to be home, Wildcat.”
“What? Mr. I Like Scaling Dangerous Cliffs and Throwing Myself Out of Airplanes is happy to be lounging about at home like some rich man of leisure all of a sudden?”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her up against his side. “I’m thinking I’ve been cured of my more… reckless hobbies. At least for now.”
“Uh, huh. I guess we’ll see how long that lasts.” She shook her head, then chuckled softly. “You know, it occurs to me that my essay for what I did this summer would consist of a single sentence this time. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’ I guess it’s a good thing I’m no longer in high school and stuck writing those kinds of essays, huh?” Her cell phone buzzed and she eyed it in mild surprise. “Wow. Someone’s already texting me on my new, new, new, uh… new phone. That didn’t take long. We just got it, what? Two hours ago? Wonder who it is.”
He leaned forward and picked the phone up off the coffee table. “We could spend all night guessing… or you could just read it.”
Brow furrowed, Trixie tapped a few keys. “It’s from Moms. She says she’d like us to come to dinner at the farm tomorrow.”
“Tell her ‘thanks and we’ll be there’ and then turn it off. Let’s have one night totally to ourselves where we aren’t on the run and we get to sleep in our own bed and there’s no one we have to think about but each other, huh?”
She flashed him a wide grin. “I like that idea,” she told him. “It’s definitely one of your better ones, you know.”
“Sometimes I come up with some winners. I don’t think I can really take credit for you, though.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You. You make me believe in things like fate and destiny, Wildcat. Like God was looking out for me and it was always meant to be that we’d be brought together because you’re everything I need.”
Trixie turned to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You getting all philosophical on me now, Regan?” she asked, laughing lightly. “Trying to say we were ‘written in the stars’ or something?”
“Something like that, baby. Something just like that.”
Trixie gave a startled yelp as she was suddenly released. She stumbled forward as the gunman shoved her away and turned to run. He only made it a few steps before he found himself facing Regan holding the ax. He brought his arm around, but Regan was faster. With a satisfying crack, the handle of the ax connected with his ribcage. He doubled over and Regan knocked him cold with a blow to the top of his head.
Eric grunted as he watched the man fall, then looked back at the bomb. “I’d tell you to run, kid, but…”
“I know. There’s not enough time to get far enough away.”
“I don’t suppose you know the disarm code? Did you come across that anywhere?”
“Wildcat?”
Trixie felt Regan’s hand on hers. She linked their fingers tightly together. “How many digits is it?” she asked, drawing in a deep breath.
“Four.”
She closed her eyes, thinking hard. Words and numbers swirled through her mind. Neall Regan had left multiple clues to get them here. There was no way he hadn’t left one as important as this. Not when his own children might have found themselves in this very situation. Four digits. Four numbers.
Her eyes snapped open again. “1-9-6-6.”
Eric tapped in the numbers and waited. There was a mechanical beep and the clock stopped. “Damn, kid. You’re good.”
Trixie suddenly realized her heart was hammering in her chest. There were black spots swimming before her eyes and she wondered if she was about to faint. “Regan?” she asked weakly. “Are you okay? I thought – I thought maybe you were…”
“No, baby. I’m fine. I’m sorry if I scared you. I have a bit of a headache but that’s all. I was just waiting for the chance to get the jump on him when he was distracted.”
A thrumming, thumping sound reached them. It took Trixie a moment to identify the noise and construct a mental picture to match. Puzzled, she turned and looked upward.
Eric stood, watching as two helicopters flew in low over the treetops. “The cavalry’s here,” he said, almost shouting to be heard. “About time.”
Trixie leaned unsteadily into Regan as the first copter landed. A figure jumped out, ducking low. He ran forward and after a moment, she was able to distinguish his features. “Hey, look. It’s your friend. Ricky. Oh. And there’s Agent Ben. How’d they find us?”
“I called Ricky on my cell while we were still in the diner,” Eric told her. “He’s been listening in the entire time. Good thing I have a government-funded, unlimited data plan, huh?”
“Oh. Very smart move,” she said. “I think I’m gonna sit down now. I don’t know why but my legs don’t seem to be wanting to hold me up any more.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan kept Trixie firmly pressed up against him for the entire ride back to the city. She said nothing, and though he knew she wasn’t actually asleep, he also knew she needed time before she was ready to talk. When they landed, they were immediately ushered into waiting vehicles and driven to a four-story building with heavily tinted glass windows.
Although they objected loudly, they found themselves split up, taken through separate doorways and into bare rooms that looked strikingly similar to the interrogation rooms of the SPD. Trixie sat down in one of two chairs in her room and crossed her arms, waiting. Almost an hour passed before the door was opened again, but she did nothing to betray her thoughts, sitting still and silent.
If she was surprised when he walked through the door, she hid it well, Agent Ben Kobayashi thought. She regarded him impassively with one brow raised in unspoken question as he took a seat at the table across from her.
“I’m here to present you with a choice,” he explained quietly, flipping open his folder and revealing a short stack of papers. “On behalf of the United States government.”
She remained silent, and he had to admit he was impressed by her ability to mask her feelings. He’d come to think of her as someone barreling through life at full speed with every emotion on full display, but now he realized she wasn’t necessarily the open book he’d believed.
“One. You can sign a series of non-disclosure agreements that signal your promise to never discuss, in any form of verbal or written communication, the events surrounding the past week and your involvement with the SADM bomb. If you violate the agreement, you would be facing considerable jail time and other serious consequences.” He paused, studying her, trying to gauge her reaction. “Two. You refuse to sign and you will be put on trial for a number of offenses, for which you will be found guilty and imprisoned for an indefinite amount of time.”
“And what offenses would those be?”
“Any we can think of. I understand there was an issue of theft. Also trespassing. Breaking and entering. Assault.”
“Uh, huh. Essentially, I’m being blackmailed by my own government.”
“Yes. From a certain point-of-view.”
“So this is it, huh? Just like I said from the start. My very own X-Files episode. Massive cover-up and we all pretend nothing happened. Are you really okay with this? People have died because of this.”
Ben closed the folder and sighed. “No, Trixie. I’m not okay with it. At all. But you have to know this isn’t a fight you can win. Choose your battles. Sign the agreements. The world needs you out there still taking on the bad guys, not locked away in some cell, forgotten and alone.”
“Is someone presenting this same not-really-a-choice-at-all to Regan?”
“Yes. And everyone else involved, including Jean.”
She held out one hand and Ben was conscious of the fact that he’d lost a lot of her respect, something that he found bothered him more than he would have expected. “Fine,” she said flatly. “Give me a pen.”
~~~~~~~~~~
From behind the mirrored window, Eric watched as Trixie quickly scrawled her name on each document Ben slid across to her.
“What do you think?” Dom asked him. “She’d make an extremely valuable asset.”
“You’ll never be able to recruit her.”
“What makes you so sure? She’s bright, inventive, quick on her feet, able to handle herself. All the things we look for in an agent.”
Eric glanced over at the older man. “Yes. She is. But she’s also got a moral code you’d never be able to break. If there’s one thing I am absolutely certain about with the kid, it’s that she’ll always be fighting on the side of the angels. Leave her alone, Dom. Let her live her life. I’ll courier you that resignation letter tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Regan was waiting for her when the elevator door opened and she stepped out into the building’s plush lobby. He took her hand and pulled her into a gentle embrace. “You ready to go home, Wildcat? Apparently there are a lot of people waiting to see you.”
“Us,” she corrected softly. “Waiting to see us. I’m not the only one they care about, you know.” She turned to look at Agent Kobayashi. “What happens now? What happens to the men who were chasing us? And the ones who killed Maggie and our pilot? And the guy who nearly got us blown to itty bitty bits?”
“They will be… handled.”
“Do you even know who they all are?” she asked skeptically. “Or where to find them?”
“I’m not at liberty to answer that.”
“Of course you aren’t.”
“You don’t need to worry any more. Yes, there were people who wanted to you to find the bomb, and there were some who wanted to stop you-“
“Why?” she cut in. “Why stop us? I haven’t been able to come up with a really good answer for that one.”
“All I can tell you is that is has to do with selling the technology to the highest bidder, and a devaluation of that technology if the prototype is analyzed and reverse engineered.” He sighed and stepped closer. “Trixie. It’s done. You’re safe and your family and friends are safe. The weapon has been recovered and now there’s no reason for anyone to come after you about it ever again.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a wrinkled envelope. “This is for you,” he said, holding it out to Regan. “It was beneath the bomb.”
Slowly, Regan accepted the proffered letter. He turned the envelope over to see that it had “To Kalin & William” written across it. “You opened it?”
“Yes.”
“Of course you did,” Regan muttered, echoing Trixie’s sarcastic tone.
“It’s from your father. He… does his best to explain his actions. I’ll leave it up to you whether or not you feel they were justified.”
“C’mon,” Trixie said, turning away. “Let’s go home.” She took two steps and stopped. “Oh, crap. We left the station wagon at the diner.”
“Your car was impounded,” Ben told her. “As evidence. It wasn’t drivable in any case. The front windshield was shot out.”
“Of course it was.”
“If you step outside, you’ll find a car and driver waiting for you.”
“No offense, but I think I’m already over this whole letting the government chauffer us around thing.”
“I believe you’ll find this driver acceptable. Mr. Wheeler sent a limo and Tom Delanoy to pick you up.”
Trixie looked up at Regan and for the first time in what seemed like years, she felt a genuine smile push up the corners of her mouth. “Of course he did,” they said together.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you gonna read it?” Trixie asked, as Regan continued to turn the envelope over and over in his hands.
“I don’t know. No. Of course I’m going to. I just don’t know if I want to right now.”
“Well, we have about an hour before we hit Sleepyside and you know what will happen then. We’ll be mobbed by everyone we have ever known and spend the next gosh knows how many days fielding questions and explaining how we can’t talk about it.”
“This is very true,” Tom said from the front seat. “You would not believe how hard it was to get everyone to sit tight and wait for me to bring you back. There was even talk of carpooling or renting a bus so they could all come along. No joke.”
“Before I read this, would you be willing to answer a few questions for me?” Regan asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk-“
“No. I’m good. Ask away. Though I think I know at least some of what you’re wondering.” She grinned broadly. “It’s time for the Scooby Doo wrap-up where all is explained.”
“Okay,” he said with a small chuckle. “First, how’d you come up with Paky Cola?”
“It occurred to me that there had to be more to the grave site locations than just spelling out ‘Shortstop.’ I mean, I know the towns made up your dog’s name, but why those specific towns? Why not something that started with a ‘t’ that wasn’t all the way in Colorado? So I played around with the letters and eventually that was what I got. Paky Cola. Pennsylvania, Kentucky, Colorado, Louisiana. Seriously, though, I didn’t think it was really a thing. I was totally gobsmacked when that old guy told us about Pa Kelly Cola.”
“Right.”
“It’s pretty evident your dad was the ‘adorable tyke’ who couldn’t say Pa Kelly. I’m guessing he must’ve told your sister about it at some point. Maybe even when you buried Shortstop. He expected her to know and remember. He thought between Shortstop and Paky Cola, you guys would know just where to go.”
“And the code? To stop the clock.”
“It was a double clue. The grave marker with 1966 as the birth year was for a four-year-old. Four digits. Also? 1966 wasn’t a leap year. There was no February 29, 1966. I’d actually figured that out a few days ago, but I wasn’t sure how it was significant.”
“You have the leap years memorized?”
“Hardly! I looked them up in Telluride. Turns out, and I guess this makes sense when you think about it, but leap years are all divisible by four. Well, there are some exceptions with some years ending in 00 or something, but anyway, 1966 was the only year on any of the stones that wasn’t a real leap year.”
Regan stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. “Eric’s right,” he said. “You’re good, Wildcat.”
“Are you gonna read the letter now?”
“The curiosity is killing you, isn’t it.”
“I’m dying here. Have some sympathy.”
Regan pulled the single sheet from the envelope and read it quickly. He grimaced and handed it to her.
After a moment, Trixie folded the paper and set it down. “Pandora’s Box,” she said quietly.
“What?”
“Pandora’s Box. The Greek myth. Pandora opened the box and it let all the world’s evil out. All that was left at the bottom was hope. Your dad stole that bomb in the hopes that the technology would never be used and that by the time you found it, the Cold War would be over. The bomb was the evil. His letter is the hope.”
“The Cold War is over,” Regan pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean all wars are, or that it won’t ever be used.”
“No,” she agreed on a sigh. “For a man who was clearly as brilliant as your dad must’ve been, I gotta say he was awfully naïve. Anyway? Mart says it was actually Pandora’s Jar. The English translation was wrong or something.”
~~~~~~~~~~
“I know this doesn’t make any sense, but it feels like we were gone for so much longer than we actually were,” Trixie said as she scratched Clyde’s chin and smiled at his loud purr. “And it feels like everything has changed and things should be different somehow, but really, it’s all still the same.”
Regan leaned back on the sofa and stretched out his legs. “I’m just glad to be home, Wildcat.”
“What? Mr. I Like Scaling Dangerous Cliffs and Throwing Myself Out of Airplanes is happy to be lounging about at home like some rich man of leisure all of a sudden?”
He slipped an arm around her shoulders and tucked her up against his side. “I’m thinking I’ve been cured of my more… reckless hobbies. At least for now.”
“Uh, huh. I guess we’ll see how long that lasts.” She shook her head, then chuckled softly. “You know, it occurs to me that my essay for what I did this summer would consist of a single sentence this time. ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’ I guess it’s a good thing I’m no longer in high school and stuck writing those kinds of essays, huh?” Her cell phone buzzed and she eyed it in mild surprise. “Wow. Someone’s already texting me on my new, new, new, uh… new phone. That didn’t take long. We just got it, what? Two hours ago? Wonder who it is.”
He leaned forward and picked the phone up off the coffee table. “We could spend all night guessing… or you could just read it.”
Brow furrowed, Trixie tapped a few keys. “It’s from Moms. She says she’d like us to come to dinner at the farm tomorrow.”
“Tell her ‘thanks and we’ll be there’ and then turn it off. Let’s have one night totally to ourselves where we aren’t on the run and we get to sleep in our own bed and there’s no one we have to think about but each other, huh?”
She flashed him a wide grin. “I like that idea,” she told him. “It’s definitely one of your better ones, you know.”
“Sometimes I come up with some winners. I don’t think I can really take credit for you, though.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You. You make me believe in things like fate and destiny, Wildcat. Like God was looking out for me and it was always meant to be that we’d be brought together because you’re everything I need.”
Trixie turned to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You getting all philosophical on me now, Regan?” she asked, laughing lightly. “Trying to say we were ‘written in the stars’ or something?”
“Something like that, baby. Something just like that.”