Drop Dead Gorgeous(60)

Blake nods his head, agreeing sagely. “Rule. Own jizz is fine, other jizz is fucked up.”

“Whatever. Guys, do you know what this means?” I ask them both.

Jacob sits back on his ass, yanking his gloves off. “That I’m done with this?”

“No . . . that there is definitely something hinky going on with Yvette Horne.”

“Hinky?” Blake says around a smile. “Or kinky?”

“I’m embracing the Velma spirit. Stick with me, and no kinky. Poisoned smoothies—means. Another guy—motive. And they obviously lived together, so that’s opportunity.”

I’m excited. Okay, maybe a bit hysterical at having figured this out. I can see why Jeff likes his job. Well, except for the digging in trash part.

Jacob leans over and talks out of the side of his mouth to Blake. “No backsies. She’s yours now.”

I flinch, but Blake beams like he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Working on it,” he tells Jacob, but he’s staring at me like he’s never seen anything more beautiful. The best part is . . . I don’t mean my looks. I feel like Blake sees my insides—my brain and weirdness—and that’s what he thinks is stunning. After a long moment, he shows off his sexy brain power too. “The money’s another motive. A big one. But we have to prove it. And figure out who’s the guy.”

He throws a nose-wrinkling look at the baggie with the condom, on the same page as Jacob about it being the most disgusting thing we discovered in the trash.

My vote is for the spoiled chicken, and I touch the floor, even though it’s wood-printed vinyl, as I hope I can get the smell out.

Ever.





Chapter 16





Blake





“Road trip,” I call out as I knock low on Zoey’s door. I did at least call this time, but I didn’t tell her much. Just that I was coming over because I want the full impact of awe when I share what I’ve discovered.

Especially since it took me the better part of three days and I’m pretty proud of myself. If I could pat my own back, I would, but my deltoids are screaming after the workout Trey and I did this morning, and I can’t scratch my nose, much less my own shoulder.

Shit, now my nose itches. I try wiggling it like Sabrina the witch since my shoulder is unwilling to lift my arm. When wiggling doesn’t work, I’m forced to lift my arm incrementally through willpower alone because the muscles are jelly.

I have just enough time to scratch it and then the door opens.

“Come in, come in!” Zoey waves me in, her hand flapping rapidly.

“Excited to see me?”

She shoots me a wry look. “You’re the one hyping what you found and getting me all anxious. Is it good? Is it bad? I don’t know!”

She slicks her hands over her hair, which is in its usual bun, but there are loose strands that give her a haphazard look. It’s sexy as fuck, making me wish she’d take it down, shake her head, and let her black locks fan out over a pillow while I bury myself in her. My eyes slowly take her in, realizing that while she left the workday’s bun, she’s changed clothes for our not-date.

Dark jeans hug her thighs tight enough that I know her ass will be equally and sexily outlined, a V-neck T-shirt shows the smallest inch of cleavage, and booties with the smallest wedge make her lips that much closer to mine.

“You look beautiful.”

She blushes, ducking her chin and eyes from mine, and a tiny zing of anger shoots through me. I hate that she’s unaccustomed to hearing compliments, that no one has told her every morning and night that she’s gorgeous without it being tied up in barbs as a backhanded compliment.

I guess that means I have a lot of praise to catch up on. “Seven hundred and thirty,” I muse.

“Huh?”

Before I answer, I pull her to me for a sweet, small kiss. She might not realize it, but that was me sealing my promise. “The minimum number of times per year you should hear how beautiful you are. Twice a day—morning and night—times three hundred and sixty-five days. Seven hundred thirty-two in leap years.”

She lets out a tiny laugh as she shoots me a look of wry disbelief. “Okay, flatterer, quit stalling. What’s this big breakthrough?”

I let her change the subject to safer territory because we do have somewhere to be. “I’ll explain in the car. Come on, let’s go before it gets too dark.” I jerk my head toward my car and her brow crinkles.

“Where are we going?”

“Get in and you’ll see,” I tell her as I hold my hand wide in invitation.

She sighs around a smile she’s fighting and calls back into the house, “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t,” Jacob yells from what sounds to be a few feet away. “’Sup, Blake?”

Zoey opens the door a bit wider to show Jacob sitting on the couch, headphones on and video game controller in hand. I throw him a two-finger wave and he lifts his chin, eyes making a quick jump to me and then refocusing on the game again. Zoey closes the door and then gives me that full-wattage smile. “Okay, wow me with your genius, Mr. Hale. Whatcha got?”

“First, there’s someone who wants to say hello.” I open the back door to reveal Chunky sitting in the backseat with a specially-made dog seatbelt on.