Free Murder at the Azalea Festival by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter

anyone except the other guys and the shrink. I couldn't bring myself to call you, Ashley, much as I wanted to. I wasn't myself, and I thought I'd scare you off."
    "I wish you had called," I said, wondering what kind of relationship we could ever have if he wasn't able to talk to me when he was "on the job."
    He stopped for a second. "Ashley, I like to keep what's normal in my life separate from the filth I have to wallow in on some of these cases."
    Once I had asked Nick if he would consider giving up law enforcement. He told me he couldn't do that any more than I could give up restoring old houses. I wanted to ask him again if he'd think about switching careers, but now was not the time. Instead, I asked, "Did you catch him?"
    "Better than that," he said hotly, "I shot him. When we cornered him, he started shooting. We nailed him. Mine was one of the bullets that brought him down."
    Our eyes locked. "Can you handle that? That I can kill someone and not feel remorse?"
    "A child killer? You bet, I can handle it. I'd have cheered you on."
    He grinned, and the mood lightened. "You'd make a cute cheerleader," he said, steering the conversation away from a morbid topic. "Thanks for understanding, baby."
    We started up my porch steps. Unable to wait until we got inside, he pulled me to him and kissed me hard. "Oh, I've missed you, Ashley. Any chance you might move to Atlanta? They've got lots of old houses there for you to restore."
    "What is this, Nick, a proposal?" I asked. Laughter burbled up in my throat and my spirits soared.
    "Let's talk about that upstairs."
    I unlocked the door and let us in. The home tour had ended hours ago, and we were greeted by peace and quiet and the fragrance of fresh flower arrangements. I led the way up the stairs.
    In my bedroom, I turned on the ceiling fan. Its singsong whisper was a lyrical accompaniment to our love talk. I started to light candles but Nick wrapped his arms around my waist and nuzzled my neck. He turned me around to face him and we kissed, softly at first, then urgently until I was breathless.
    My fingers found the buttons on his shirt and undid them. I lifted my arms, inviting him to pull off my sweater. We moved to my grandparents' rosewood bedstead. Helping each other out of our clothes, we slid between soft vintage sheets.
    His body joined mine so familiarly it was as if we'd been making love forever and not for the first time.
    When darkness was a solid black wall pressed against the windows, the first tentative explosions reverberated from the riverfront. We got out of bed to peer through the glass, catching glimpses of brilliant lights that blossomed like chrysanthemums against the sky over the river.
    I pressed my face into his chest. "We're missing the fireworks."
    "Come back to bed. We'll make our own."
    And so we did.
     

 
     
     
     
    12
     
    In the morning I floated around the kitchen in a pale lavender nightgown and peignoir, lingerie I'd hoarded for years for just such an occasion. Earlier Nick had brought in a duffle bag from the trunk of his car. He had shaved and showered, and was wearing a clean starched shirt and a big grin on his face.
    I poured coffee. How domestic we were.
    My culinary skills are few, but I do know how to soft-boil eggs. That's because I collect antique egg cups and want to use them so I've taught myself not to overcook or undercook the eggs. And I'm a master at toasting English muffins.
    I passed Nick butter and orange marmalade. I refrained from asking, Isn't this cozy? Let Nick think I dressed glamorously and breakfasted on fine china every morning. But I didn't feel awkward; in fact it felt natural to be sharing my breakfast table with him.
    What a night! Wow! How many times does a girl get to experience a night like that in her lifetime? Unless you're Melanie, not often.
    "What are your plans for the day?" I asked casually, feeling him out, trying not to appear possessive or needy. I had plans of my own but I'd have dropped them in