Karma's A Bitch (A Pet Psychic Mystery) Read Free

spun into. “Oh, oh, sorry!” Heavens, I really had to get used to other people standing in such close proximity to me.
    Pursing his lips in an amused smile, he strolled to the counter, released a fist full of napkins from the holder and placed his cup on the counter. “Sandy, can I get another when you get a chance, please.”
    As he moved back toward me, the gold badge clipped to his belt glinted. I took in the white dress shirt, gray slacks, tie and neatly cropped hair and groaned. Perfect.
    “Thanks.” I hung my head as I accepted the napkins. “I’m really so sorry…officer?” I glanced up into his blue eyes as my hand brushed his. A small, electric charge zinged through me, bringing with it the smell of coconut and a weird feeling of euphoria. I jerked my hand away. What was that ?
    “Detective.” He looked down on me from his 6’4ish vantage point.
    My head buzzed like I’d had too much caffeine as I wiped at my apron with the napkins.
    “Detective, right. Well,” I straightened up and ignored the distracting scent and vibrations. “Let me buy you another tea, it’s the least I can do.”
    He held my gaze and the tingling intensified until I had to rub my arms for relief.
    “Detective Blake?” the girl at the counter called. “Got your refill.”
    He cleared his throat and broke our eye contact. “Some other time.”
    He nodded to her, grabbed his cup and left without another glance my way.
    Some other time ? What did that mean ? Okay, weird.
    “Next,” the girl called.
     
    ***
     
    “Here we go.” I slid the tray on the table and placed a steaming ham and Swiss cheese omelet in front of Mad Dog with a cup of black tea, then a second one on the ground for Karma. “Should be able to gum some eggs,” I said, as the drooling mastiff stuck his face in the dish. Entertainment at its finest.
    “I can’t pay you back.” An uncomfortable, dark expression flashed across Mad Dog’s face as he ripped open a raw sugar packet.
    “You are paying me back by keeping me company.” I stirred honey into my white tea, mala bead bracelets clacking on my wrist. “I’m the new girl in town, remember?”
    “Sure. Thank you.” Mad Dog nodded, slid an arm around the plate and moved a forkful of steaming omelet toward his mouth. “We appreciate your kindness.”
    I bit into a buttery croissant and eyed my breakfast company. “So, Mad Dog, what’s your story?”
    “My story?” he asked, around a mouthful of food.
    “Yeah, everyone’s got a story, right? What’s yours?”
    His weary eyes searched my face. The whole social aspect of human interaction, and how much butting in was polite, still baffled me. Maybe I had crossed the line?
    Then he shrugged. “Persian Gulf and Iraq war vet turned homeless bum. Not much to tell.” His slow, self effacing words were hard to swallow. Thick waves of despair washed over me.
    I sipped my tea, forcing down the lump and waited for the emotional storm to subside.
    After an uncomfortable minute, it did. “Well, that’s not very nice.”
    His shoulder moved slightly and his expression stayed neutral. “The world ain’t nice.”
    “The world is what you make it.” At least that’s what I’ve always believed. Of course, it was easy to believe that back home, in our controlled corner of the world. But what about here in this balmy, enchanting city with a history and trajectory of its own?
    Mad Dog sat back, scrubbed his mouth with the paper napkin and studied me. “You grow up with money?”
    I popped a few blueberries into my mouth and crunched, holding his gaze. “I suppose, yes.” Though I never did like where that money came from. Or should I say who it came from?
    “Then you were sheltered from the real world, Darwin.”
    I didn’t want to admit it, but his words stung. Being sheltered was part of the reason I’d left home. I moved here to change that. And I liked hanging around Mad Dog because he didn’t judge me. Was I wrong? I moved my gaze across