A Good Day for Chardonnay (Sunshine Vicram #2) by Darynda Jones

“See? We are so much alike. What if we’re perfect for each other, we’ve just never given us a chance?”

“You mean sex?”

“No.” He started to scrub his face but stopped and looked at her from over his fingertips. “Well, yeah.”

“So, like friends with benefits?”

“No. Yes. Maybe.”

The romantic sensibilities in this guy bordered on legendary. And he was still single. Whodathunk? Sun gazed into the clear depths of blue in his eyes.

He took her hands into his as an orchestra played romantic music in the background.

Without looking, she reached over and turned off the radio, then re-clasped their hands.

“Why didn’t we think of this before?” he asked.

“Because we’ve been besties since kindergarten and having sex would very likely ruin a lifelong friendship?”

“Maybe. But maybe not.” He scratched his adorably scruffy chin. “I like to believe we’ve simply been in denial about our true feelings.”

She squinted in thought. “I don’t think so. But I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

At that point, she’d be willing to do anything to lessen the constant longing—a.k.a., obsession—for Levi Ravinder she’d had since she realized boy and girl parts differed greatly. And he was a big part of that discovery.

“So”—he grew serious with a heaping side of wicked if the impish slant of his mouth were any indication—“date night soon?”

Butterflies stormed her belly much like a battalion of soldiers storming a beach. If she didn’t have those kinds of feelings for Quincy somewhere deep down—way, way deep down—why would butterflies attack? Maybe he was right.

Having made her decision, she lifted her chin in a gesture of finality. “You know what? Let’s do this.”

He extended his fist. “Let’s do this.”

They fist-bumped to seal the deal, then sat stewing in one of the most uncomfortable silences she’d ever endured, giving her a chance to take in the grounds around them. The lot was surrounded by foliage and palm trees. A white Santorini-style church sat atop a hill in front of them.

Quince scanned the oasis surrounding them as well. “I feel like having this conversation in the parking lot of a monastery is wrong.”

“Having this conversation is wrong period. But who knows? Maybe you’re right.” She gave him a good appraisal. He was beyond attractive. She’d never questioned that. And she did love him more than just about anything or anyone on Earth. Who knew? Maybe he was onto something.

They got out of the cruiser and headed toward an adobe-style entrance that sat on their right. A beautiful red chapel nestled in greenery sat beyond that, but they headed toward the bookstore first to gain entrance.

The monastery was a lovely combination of chapels, elaborate gardens, and scenic walkways dotted with gazebos and Spanish fountains. They toured the grounds as quickly as possible, considering it was already thirty minutes out of their way, and bought several bottles of olive oil from the monks.

“I suddenly want to sauté something,” Quincy said when they got back to the car.

“Don’t do it in the cruiser. I’ll never get the smell out.”

The trip back was filled with small talk that gave their upcoming date a wide berth. Neither wanted to dwell on it, though Sun’s thoughts did steer in that general direction when Quincy sat snoring in her passenger seat.

Quincy? Quincy Cooper? She prayed she wasn’t making the biggest mistake of her life.

To take her mind off the linebacker next to her, she called Royce Womack. The former sheriff agreed to meet them for coffee later.

He’d become an invaluable asset to her. He’d helped her on a case her first day on the job when the U.S. Marshals were in town hunting for an escaped convict.

“Where are we?” her new beau asked. He stretched and threw in a yawn any lion would be proud of.

“A little over halfway.” The sun had started its descent a few hours earlier and now hung low on the horizon.

“Shit. How long have I been out?”

“Not quite five hours.”

He scowled at her. “I thought we were taking two-hour shifts.”

“That’s so weird. I thought the same thing last night. You hungry?”

“Always.”

“Then you woke up just in time.”

Sun pulled into Gordo’s, one of her favorite restaurants in Gallup, put her cruiser in park, then answered yet another text from Carver asking when he’d get another coffee date.

So she could pay ten dollars for a cup of coffee? No, thank you. She typed, “Out of town. Official business.”

He texted immediately asking when she would return. She groaned and handed the phone to Quince. “You’re my under-sheriff. You take care of this.”

A sly brow raised as though questioning her sanity. She snatched back her phone. There was no telling what Quince would say to him. She shot off a quick reply about getting home late, then climbed out into the unforgiving New Mexico sun.

Apparently giving up on the low-carb lifestyle, she and Quincy both ordered beef enchiladas smothered in green chile with beans, rice, and pepitas. To top it off, they shared a sopapilla since Quincy swore he couldn’t fit anything else into his stomach. Of course, he said that right before he ate four-fifths of the fluffy, honey-filled pillow.