Free Design on a Crime by Ginny Aiken Page A

a look of pure disgust.
    I didn't blame him. I wouldn't buy it either if I'd found
the person who tried to feed it to me in a trash shed. So I
figured it didn't really count as a lie. It was just a momentary
diversion.
    Another of those giggles rose over the notes of "Bolero."
    Dutch looked over the door. I leaned to peer through my
crack between the hinges. Thanks to Ravel, neither Noreen
nor Steve seemed to have heard the rats. Their embrace had
only grown steamier since I last checked.
    "I'd never have pegged you for a peeping Tom," Dutch
muttered. "Thomasina, actually."

    "Those two are disgusting." I put more distance between
us and waved poolward. "I can't believe they're-"
    Crash!
    No way the two on the lounge chair could've missed that.
People in China heard the trash can fall. On me.
    "Come on," Dutch ordered. "We have to get out of here before they call the cops and we're hauled in for trespassing."
    He grabbed my arm and, before I scraped the wilted lettuce, coffee grounds, and soggy potato chips off my clothes,
dragged me away. It wasn't an easy proposition, I'll give him
that, since my sandals slid on repulsive green goo, but Dutch
wasn't about to be thwarted.
    "Oh, for crying out loud." With a final yank to my arm, he
knocked me off balance and scooped me up in his arms.
    Fear hitched in my throat. My heart pounded. He was too
close. I was too vulnerable. Four years melted away.
    He trotted off, and in spite of my efforts to escape, I noticed
the wrapper stuck on his shoulder.
    I laughed. It was a nervous laugh, shrill, full of strain, and on
the verge of panic, but still a laugh. The label seemed appropriate. I might be garbed in produce past its prime, but Dutch bore
a warning. The label on his shirt decreed him a Nutty Buddy.
Buddy? I didn't think so.
    Nutty? Oh yeah.

     

"Put me down."
    My demand gave him no leeway, and I know he heard it,
since I made it mere millimeters from his ear.
    It was a nice enough ear but, apparently, out of order.
    He jogged down the drive, past the two pricey cars, and
didn't pause when he reached the sidewalk. His stamina
impressed me; his noncompliance didn't.
    I had to get out of his clutches before a panic attack struck.
I hadn't had one in about a year. Since he hadn't harmed
me-yet-I held my breath for a couple of seconds, long
enough for my heartbeat to resume a semiregular rhythm.
    "Hey!" I smacked his shoulder, dislodging the Nutty Buddy
wrapper. Pity. It suited him to a T. "What's wrong with you?
Can't you hear? I said, put me down."
    "Nothing's wrong with me, and my hearing's fine."
    He didn't even sound out of breath. And I'm no teenymini woman. But I couldn't let his strength blind me to his
insanity.
    "I just have a healthy regard for freedom," he added. "We have to get out of Dodge ASAP, and those funky sandals of
yours look like they'd make lousy joggers."

    "My Birkenstocks are excellent for everything."
    "Not for staying ahead of the jailer."
    "You should know."
    That stopped him. I took advantage of his downgraded
momentum to shove myself out of his grasp. I nearly landed
on my rear.
    Since he didn't answer, I stole a peek. Uh-oh. He wasn't
happy.
    "Just for the record," he said through gritted teeth, "I've
never been arrested. Don't even get speeding tickets. None yet,
and I'm thirty years old. That should tell you something."
    "Yeah. You run faster than the law. And not by foot
either."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "That you got yourself a lawyer who kept you this side of
trouble in that slippery slope mess you made."
    As I indicted him, I heard Noreen, no longer out in the
backyard.
    Dutch looked back. "Come on. It'll be worse if she finds
us here. Trust me on this."
    My stomach did a nervous flutter. Trust was not one of my
strong suits. Plus, his Tarzan swoop had brought back unbearable feelings. Loss of control didn't sit well with me.
    "Fine. I'll go. On my own steam." My sandals slapped the
concrete in a