Dying for a Dude (Laurel McKay Mysteries Book 4) Read Online Free Page B

call, and he has to meet with the owner of that building he’s working on.”
    The man in question walked through the front door. “Hi, hon. Did we wake you?”
    I bristled at the endearment but decided to ignore it. “You have to work on a Sunday?”
    Hank’s dark expression almost matched the black San Francisco Giants baseball cap he wore to hide his receding hairline.
    “Spencer wants to review some overruns in the budget. I told him whenever you restore a historical building you have to follow the code. He’s gonna try cutting corners, but I’m not letting him do it.”
    I nodded in agreement, a rare occurrence. “Good for you. The Hangtown Hotel is an important project, and the renovation needs to be properly completed. That building will be the showcase of Main Street once it’s finished.”
    “That’s what I keep saying.” Hank sighed. “I don’t know what the deal is with him.”
    “Maybe he’s running out of money. His campaign for District Six Supervisor must be costing a fortune. I don’t think there’s an intersection where Spencer’s face isn’t smirking at me.”
    “Oh, he definitely hasn’t let me forget about the election. That’s part of the problem. Spencer is already counting on winning the seat and holding his acceptance speech in the building. I told him I couldn’t guarantee it would be done by then.”
    Hank shuffled his feet. “I better get going. Are you going to the fundraiser at Mountain High Winery tonight? I’d love to have you be my date.” His voice softened and he moved closer. “You’re looking real good lately. Have you lost weight?”
    My son, who possesses bionic hearing only when he chooses, piped in. “Mommy’s taking Bimbo classes.”
    Hank looked confused, and I corrected Ben. “Zumba classes,” I said. “Dance and cardio combined.”
    Hank smiled. “Bimbo, Zumba, whatever it is, you look great. So about that date?”
    Since I’d rather rope a bull than accompany my ex to a social event, I declined. “Sorry, Tom and I are going together.” Ever the optimist, I hoped the detective would be cavorting with me tonight and not with a skeleton.
    A wistful look crossed Hank’s face. “Okay, guess I’ll see you there.” He moved forward to hug me, but I stepped back and said goodbye. My cell rang as I closed the door behind him.
    “Hi, Tom. I’m glad you called. How’s it going?”
    “Not well,” he replied. I could sense the frustration in his voice. “We not only have to treat this as a cold case homicide, but we need to ensure the site isn’t compromised from a historical standpoint.”
    I clucked sympathetically, and we chatted a few minutes more before he signed off, apologizing for not being able to attend tonight’s event. In the past six months, the two of us had spent far more time without each other than together. A few months ago when Tom cancelled a trip to Hawaii for Liz and Brian’s wedding, I had questioned if it was possible to have a successful relationship with a homicide detective. Then he arrived on the Big Island and swept me off my feet.
    Into his arms.
     
    Nine hours later, I strolled along the scenic grounds of Mountain High Winery, arm in arm with the other main squeeze in my life, the man who was always there for me, Stan Winters, my GBFF, gay best friend forever. My friend, who idolized Carson Kressley of Queer Eye for a Straight Guy fame, never missed an opportunity to create a fashion statement. Tonight’s attire included a cream satin shirt detailed with red-beaded swirls and a mile of matching fringe across the front and back. Tight-fitting designer jeans and a taupe cowboy hat almost as large as the state of Texas completed his outfit.
    I turned and the brim of his Stetson just missed colliding with my forehead. “Geez, Stan, you are one dangerous dude. Can’t we park your ten gallon headgear someplace other than on your head?”
    “Sorry,” Stan apologized. “But I need the hat to complete my ensemble. I