The Best Man (Blue Heron #1)(19)

It was nearly dark, thankfully. Perfect. Time to be Spider-man.

Faith put the heels of her hands on the window ledge and gave a little jump, using her arms as leverage as she maneuvered out the window. Head clear, shoulders clear, boobs clear, stomach clear. Then her momentum stopped abruptly.

Ass not clear.

She wriggled again. Nothing.

The dog barked in delight, sensing some fun coming on.

“Shh,” Faith said. “Quiet, sweetie.” She gave a flop, rather than a wriggle, figuring force might win over torque, or vice versa. Ground her h*ps down and pushed up with her arms. Kicked her legs, which had nothing to push against. Twisted and pulled. Twisted and flopped. Heaved. Pushed. Grunted.

Nada. Nyet. Nuttin.

Okay, fine. She’d have to go back in and think of something else.

But apparently “in” was not an option, either. Faith was stuck like a cork in a bottle.

“Okay, shit,” she said aloud. Her head was a little dizzy from the two martinis or the fact that her blood supply was being choked off by the window, or both.

Pushing with her arms, she sucked in her stomach, and tried with more gusto. At least the Microfiber Slim-Nation undergarment was slippery. Oh, goody, she got another inch. Glanced back at her butt. Almost there. Of course, if her butt did suddenly clear the window, she’d fall right on her head and break her neck. Woman Who Didn’t Know Fiancé Was Gay Falls to Her Death Wearing Microfiber Slim-Nation Undergarment.

“Come on!” she said a bit more forcefully. The dog barked again, then jumped up, its paws against the outside wall of Hugo’s. “Help me, Lassie,” Faith muttered. She wriggled some more to no avail.

Then the glare of headlights washed over her as a Manningsport police car pulled into the parking lot.

CHAPTER FIVE

AS A COP, LEVI COOPER SAW his fair share of odd things. Victor Iskin had all his pets sent to the taxidermist after they died. Sometimes, he’d invite Levi in to visit, and Levi would sit there, surrounded by motionless cats, dogs and a couple of hamsters. Methalia Lewis liked to show him how fat she was getting by hoisting up her shirt and grabbing her stomach in both hands. But Methalia was eighty-two years old and laughed merrily while doing it, then would inevitably offer him some pie. Joey Kilpatrick kept his gallstones, six in all, in a little glass bowl on the kitchen table, and liked to recount just how horrified the surgeon had been at the state of his infected gallbladder.

But Faith Holland’s head and scantily clad torso hanging out of a window...black bra, too...that was a sight. He turned off the lights and sat there a moment as she wriggled in the fading evening glow.

Guess he should get out of the car. Then again, that was a pretty great view.

He wasn’t one to smile much, as he was often told by Emmaline, the administrative assistant he still regretted hiring. But this...yeah. He felt a smirk coming on. Getting out of the car, he walked over to the restaurant window, which was about ten feet off the ground. Good thing Faith wasn’t a little wisp of a thing; she might’ve broken something falling if she hadn’t been wedged in there.

“Is there a problem here, ma’am?” he asked.

“Nope. Just taking in the view,” Faith said, not looking at him.

“Me, too.” Yep. He was smirking. “Nice night, isn’t it?”

“It is. It’s beautiful.”

He nodded. “What happened to your shirt?”

One of her arms suddenly flew across her gorgeous rack as if she was just aware that he was getting quite a show. “I, um...I had a wardrobe malfunction.”

“I see.” The arm blocking his view couldn’t stay there long; she needed it to brace herself or risk flopping. He waited. She glared. A second later, her arm went back again, treating him to the stellar view once more. Very nice, all that plump, creamy bodaciousness encased in a low-cut bra. Not that he particularly liked Faith Holland, but he did like br**sts, and it had been a while since he’d seen such an exemplary pair. “So, what happened?”

Her face grew red. “I flushed my sweater down the toilet.”

“That happens to me all the time.” This earned another glare. “So you decided to climb out the window?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Where you are now stuck.”

“Wow. Those analytical powers of yours are just stunning, Levi. No wonder you’re a cop.”

That comment just bought her a few more seconds in the window. “Well, if there’s nothing you need, I’ll be on my way. You have a nice night, ma’am.”

He started to get back in the car.

“Levi! Don’t go! And don’t call me ma’am. I’m still a miss. Help me out here. Aren’t you a public servant?”

“I am.” He raised his eyebrows and waited.

“So? Give me a hand and stop being such a hemorrhoid.”

“Should half-dressed people wedged in windows call an officer of the law names, do you think?”

She huffed. “Officer Cooper, would you please help me?”

“It’s Chief Cooper, and, yes.”

He got back in the cruiser and pulled it up so the bumper almost touched the building, threw the car in Park and got out again. “I really have to wonder how climbing out the window seemed like the best decision,” he said, climbing on the hood of the cruiser. “Is Jeremy in there?”