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off…”
    Mona glared. “Be cheaper to hire a hit man.”
    Bunny smiled. “I think of it as proving to myself I’m over him and don’t care. Although a drink at the Ugly Stick after the wedding would be fabulous.”
    “You’re on.” Mona left, the bell over the door ringing loudly in her wake.
    A few minutes later, Mr. Weinfelt had gone with his daisies to pay his respect to his dearly departed wife. The old man smiled at her, but the smile didn’t reach his sad eyes. He’d loved his wife Nora so much. When she’d been on her deathbed, he’d promised to bring her daisies every week for the rest of his life.
    When Bunny had married Ray, she’d believed their love was strong enough to last a lifetime and dreamed they’d grow old together, like Tom and Nora Weinfelt. A lump rose in her throat as she pictured Mr. Weinfelt laying the daisies on Nora’s grave. Bunny pushed her hair back from her forehead and closed her eyes. Deep in her heart, she wanted to believe in that dream. She opened her eyes to the sun shining through the front window and went back to work.
    Settling in behind her workbench, she let her mind drift back to the two men in the costume room and all the deliciously naughty things she could imagine doing with them. Never in her life had she considered being with more than one man. Hell, she’d married right out of high school, so her sleeping around days had been over before they started. She’d married her high school sweetheart and the only man she’d ever made love to.
    Now she was arranging flowers for that man’s wedding.
    She smiled. The promise of her date with Cory and Jack was so tantalizing that even thinking about her ex couldn’t put a damper on it. Her belly tightened and a soft throbbing ache developed between her legs. Jack and Cory had stirred up a tempest inside her, and there appeared to be only one way to exorcise it.
     
     
    Jack stopped by the sheriff’s office early Thursday morning and checked the schedule. As he’d expected, he was off Friday night.
    Deputy Mitch Cramer stepped up beside Jack and tapped the schedule posted on the wall. “Wanna fill in for me tomorrow night?”
    “No.”
    “Damn, Jack.” Cramer stepped back, a frown denting his forehead. “You could have at least hesitated a little. You’re usually good in a pinch.”
    A smile lifted the corners of Jack’s lips. “Got plans.”
    Cramer’s frown deepened. “Plans, huh?” Then his brows rose and he gave a bark of laughter. “That’s right. Last night was the Cowboy Auction. Who got the winning bid? Some old lady from the Garden Club?” He laughed again. “What was it like to be viewed like a horse at the livestock sale?”
    Jack didn’t bother to answer. He settled his cowboy hat on his head, left the sheriff’s station and drove his truck to the edge of town. Two miles out, he turned onto Shady Lane and drove beneath the wrought-iron arches of Shady Grove Cemetery. Jack parked beside a vintage Crown Victoria, beneath the hundred-year-old white oak tree.
    For a long moment, he sat staring across the neat row of headstones. At first, he didn’t see anyone else. Then Mr. Weinfelt straightened and wiped a shaking hand across his eyes as he stared down at a grave. After a few more minutes, the old man looked toward where Jack had parked. He bent one last time, then stood as straight as his hunched figure could and shuffled toward Jack.
    Jack climbed from the truck and met Mr. Weinfelt at the front of his car, removing his hat from his head out of respect for the ninety-three-year-old. “Mornin’, Mr. Weinfelt.”
    “Mornin’, Jack.” The older man held out his hand.
    Jack clasped the man’s hand and shook it, the older man’s parchment skin cool to his touch. “Bring Ms. Nora her daisies?”
    Mr. Weinfelt nodded toward the sun halfway up the eastern sky. “Nora loved sunny days and daisies. Couldn’t disappoint her.” He held out his other hand with a single daisy in it.