Framed Shadows: Shadows Landing #6, Kathleen Brooks [great novels of all time TXT] 📗

happening here? Did he feel the same as she did? That these little skirmishes were just foreplay before the main event?

“So, what did you need?” Tinsley asked, proud that her voice didn’t crack or that she hadn’t stripped naked and jumped him.

“I have a case that I need your opinion on,” Paxton told her. Then to her horror, her stomach rumbled. He smirked at her again and all sexy thoughts flew out the window at her embarrassment. “How about we discuss the case over dinner?”

Her stomach liked that idea, but she didn’t. “If we go out, we won’t get any work done. Everyone will stop by the table to chat. It’s what I normally love about my small town, but if I need to look at files and examine paintings, I need to be able to focus.”

Paxton looked around and nodded. “Okay. You clean up and I’ll grab something from the Pink Pig. What do you want from there?”

The Pink Pig was one of two barbecue joints in town and the one closest to her. There was a friendly but intense rivalry between the Pink Pig and Lowcountry Smokehouse. It was a rivalry where there were no losers because both places were so good. Just thinking about them had her stomach rumbling again.

Tinsley gave him the order and watched as he walked out of the backroom. Oh boy. What was she getting herself into and could she get herself out of it if need be? She couldn’t wait for Paxton to get back, but even she knew he wasn’t the staying type.

3

Paxton thanked the waitress and grabbed the large brown paper bag filled with food. The entire time he was waiting for his order, his mind was on the painting at Tinsley’s. It had been them. She may say she wasn’t good at painting people, but she was wrong. It had felt as if Paxton had Tinsley bent back in his arms and was kissing her the second he had seen the painting.

Paxton smiled to himself as he walked by the Shadows Landing Historical Society. He wasn’t the only one thinking of them together. He picked up his pace, excited to get back to Tinsley and it wasn’t just because of the painting. Paxton had to be tough when dealing with dangerous gangs, but Tinsley would just roll her eyes and his tough act dissolved in a heartbeat. The question was, did he want to see what would happen if he pushed her in another way?

Yes, he wanted to see that very badly. But, even though he acted otherwise, he did have a heart and he wouldn’t hurt Tinsley for anything. That meant even protecting her from him. He couldn’t risk them starting something only to have him leave on assignment. That would be cruel and he’d never do that to Tinsley.

“Hello, young man.”

Paxton smiled at the polar-opposite pair of old ladies walking toward him. One looked like a plucked chicken, all pale, thin, and wrinkly. The other was darker-skinned and perfectly rounded. Yet, they both had the same curious look in their eyes as they took him in.

“Good evening, ladies.” Paxton smiled at them as he continued walking. He might be a tough as nails federal agent, but he wasn’t stupid. There wasn’t anything scarier than a granny gang. They would trip you with their sweetness, then cajole you into spilling your guts for a casserole. There was one such granny gang in Atlanta who had served as his confidential informants. And he wasn’t fooling himself to think only he got information from them. No, they strangled every last bit of information from him with the pretty scarf they’d knitted for him.

“We were just coming from knitting club when we saw someone new and thought we’d see if you needed any help,” the chicken said as the warning bells went off in his head.

Danger, danger, danger flashed through his mind. Dear God, they had knitting needles and he smelled a chicken and cheese casserole.

“That’s very nice of y’all, but I have to get going. Have a nice night, ladies.”

Paxton faked to the right and rolled to the left before slamming into a lady with a blouse embroidered with cats all over it.

“I’m so sorry,” Paxton muttered.

“He’s new, Mitzi,” the chicken lady called out.

“Oh, you’re new!” Mitzi said, her eyes lighting up like a cat that spotted a little red laser dot smack in the middle of Paxton’s forehead.

Paxton looked up and saw more old women, a hulking mountain of a man, and was that America’s Sweetheart stepping out of the church’s front door? The granny gang was growing. He was out of time.

“Lovely to meet you,” Paxton said and then he ran.

He zigged and zagged like a professional running back, outmaneuvering the defense until he slammed through the front door of the art gallery. He was breathing hard as he turned to look out the door. They were all shuffling toward him like a mob of zombie grannies. Paxton felt no regret at flicking the deadbolt closed, turning off the lights, and racing to the back room.

“Is everything okay?” Tinsley asked worriedly when he shut and locked the door behind him.

“Yeah, didn’t want the food to get cold.” Paxton set down the bag and moved to the Bluetooth speaker. He turned up the music to hide the sound of the granny gang knocking on the front door. “Love this song,” he said with a bright smile when Tinsley looked questioningly at him.

Tinsley unloaded the bag of food as he blared the music. Once the song was finally over and he didn’t hear any more knocking, he turned the music down.

“There have been some robberies in Charleston,” Paxton began to explain as he sat across from her at the artist table covered in smudges of old paint.

“I’m guessing art was the target since you’re here,” Tinsley said sarcastically.

Paxton smiled before biting into his sandwich. Sassy Tinsley was his favorite so far. “Ding, ding, we have a winner.” Tinsley rolled