Totally Fishy (A Miller Sisters Mystery) Read Online Free Page B
right here at Mom's, out in back of the barn. Okay, I know what everyone is thinking, but honestly, we had a dead horse, a dead man, and half the town as chaperones, so let's all keep our minds out of the gutter, shall we? Anyway, in front of half the town plus the news media, J.J. grabbed me, pulled me close, and whispered in my ear. The fact he was talking about murder didn't matter, the damage was done.
He made it look like we were all cuddly and couple-like, and suddenly we became front-page news. My humiliation was complete when the gossip at Sal's said he'd uttered sweet nothings in my ear, leading the women of the town to try to do me in. Then their mothers started giving me the evil eye, and I was sunk. Explanations were useless, and my own mother refused to confirm or deny any rumors. That was certainly good enough for the gossip mill, so Green and I became the new town soap opera, As the Stomach Churns .
Taking another swig of beer, I stared at the culprit in this saga. Thinking about that entire episode made me pissy and I gave J.J. the stink eye as I touched my toe to his camp chair and tilted back in mine. I've got to give him credit though. J.J. can sure keep up the facade like a pro. He grinned at me and I sucked on my beer. I gave him an insincere toothy grin and he laughed, patting my ankle affectionately, as if he meant it.
He smiled like a contented old lap dog and leaned over to fluff my hair. Again. This caused a ripple of comments to flow through the crowd and I sighed. Might as well give up, or break his arm again, Miller . I was too content to argue, and to be perfectly honest, I kind-of enjoyed the temporary notoriety it afforded me, bad haircut and all. Feeling comfortably muzzy, I grinned, leaned back again and scratched the ears of my Newfoundland, Wesley. Wes was showing me the love, and leaned his 160-pound frame against my knees.
At once, I had a slight feeling of vertigo, and that feeling didn't come from a bottle. As Wes wallowed in doggie bliss, he leaned more of his weight against my chair. My feet slowly left the ground as it shifted to the left and back. I leaned forward and kicked my feet, trying to regain my balance without spilling my beer (we do have priorities in Wisconsin). As my chair passed the point of no return, my arms flapped in a drunken imitation of a dog paddle and my toes fluttered helplessly in the air.
" Whoop ." My feet flew up. Wes woofed, excited at the prospect of playing tackle.
J.J. finally noticed I had a problem when I punted his beer across the yard. I toppled to the left and it flashed through my mind the picture I would make rolling ass-over-teakettle down the hill with a beer in my hand.
Without so much as missing a beat in the conversation, my sister Mag's boyfriend, Ian, reached out and shoved me back toward the upright position. J.J. grabbed my foot as it swung by, and pushed Wesley over as he righted my chair.
As my chair hit the ground, he grabbed the beer out of my hand, pointed at my face, and said, "You owe me one, Miller." He fluffed my hair, swigged my beer, turned, and resumed his conversation with FBI Bob. The crowd, " Ooo'd ."
" Whew . How many coupons for that ride?" I blinked and tried to clear my head. I looked across the yard and saw my Bulldog, Hilary, lapping up the remainder of J.J.'s beer. She loved beer, even though it gave her gas, so it was always a good idea to curtail her drinking habits. There's nothing on earth worse than Bulldog beer farts in a small room. I strolled over and picked up the can. Hill looked up at me with those sad eyes of hers. She heaved a great sigh and passed some wicked gas. She looked around as if she couldn't believe something like that could have come out of her butt. She gave me an accusing stare–like I had anything to do with it.
"Yes, Hill, you did that, but you could have at least been polite enough to share it with J.J." I made my way back over to our group.
Hearing J.J.'s name, Hilary perked
He made it look like we were all cuddly and couple-like, and suddenly we became front-page news. My humiliation was complete when the gossip at Sal's said he'd uttered sweet nothings in my ear, leading the women of the town to try to do me in. Then their mothers started giving me the evil eye, and I was sunk. Explanations were useless, and my own mother refused to confirm or deny any rumors. That was certainly good enough for the gossip mill, so Green and I became the new town soap opera, As the Stomach Churns .
Taking another swig of beer, I stared at the culprit in this saga. Thinking about that entire episode made me pissy and I gave J.J. the stink eye as I touched my toe to his camp chair and tilted back in mine. I've got to give him credit though. J.J. can sure keep up the facade like a pro. He grinned at me and I sucked on my beer. I gave him an insincere toothy grin and he laughed, patting my ankle affectionately, as if he meant it.
He smiled like a contented old lap dog and leaned over to fluff my hair. Again. This caused a ripple of comments to flow through the crowd and I sighed. Might as well give up, or break his arm again, Miller . I was too content to argue, and to be perfectly honest, I kind-of enjoyed the temporary notoriety it afforded me, bad haircut and all. Feeling comfortably muzzy, I grinned, leaned back again and scratched the ears of my Newfoundland, Wesley. Wes was showing me the love, and leaned his 160-pound frame against my knees.
At once, I had a slight feeling of vertigo, and that feeling didn't come from a bottle. As Wes wallowed in doggie bliss, he leaned more of his weight against my chair. My feet slowly left the ground as it shifted to the left and back. I leaned forward and kicked my feet, trying to regain my balance without spilling my beer (we do have priorities in Wisconsin). As my chair passed the point of no return, my arms flapped in a drunken imitation of a dog paddle and my toes fluttered helplessly in the air.
" Whoop ." My feet flew up. Wes woofed, excited at the prospect of playing tackle.
J.J. finally noticed I had a problem when I punted his beer across the yard. I toppled to the left and it flashed through my mind the picture I would make rolling ass-over-teakettle down the hill with a beer in my hand.
Without so much as missing a beat in the conversation, my sister Mag's boyfriend, Ian, reached out and shoved me back toward the upright position. J.J. grabbed my foot as it swung by, and pushed Wesley over as he righted my chair.
As my chair hit the ground, he grabbed the beer out of my hand, pointed at my face, and said, "You owe me one, Miller." He fluffed my hair, swigged my beer, turned, and resumed his conversation with FBI Bob. The crowd, " Ooo'd ."
" Whew . How many coupons for that ride?" I blinked and tried to clear my head. I looked across the yard and saw my Bulldog, Hilary, lapping up the remainder of J.J.'s beer. She loved beer, even though it gave her gas, so it was always a good idea to curtail her drinking habits. There's nothing on earth worse than Bulldog beer farts in a small room. I strolled over and picked up the can. Hill looked up at me with those sad eyes of hers. She heaved a great sigh and passed some wicked gas. She looked around as if she couldn't believe something like that could have come out of her butt. She gave me an accusing stare–like I had anything to do with it.
"Yes, Hill, you did that, but you could have at least been polite enough to share it with J.J." I made my way back over to our group.
Hearing J.J.'s name, Hilary perked
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