“I'm sort of engaged to Morelli,” I said.
Ranger smiled.
Shit.
There was the sound of a key being inserted in my front door lock and the door swung open. Morelli strode in and he and Ranger nodded to each other.
“Game over?” I asked Morelli.
Morelli gave me a death look. “The game's over and the baby-sitting is over. And I don't ever want to see this guy again.”
“Where is he?”
Morelli turned and looked. No Mooner. “Christ,” Morelli said. He went back to the hall and yanked Mooner into the room by Mooner's jacket collar, the Trenton PD equivalent to a mother cat dragging a demented offspring by the scruff of his neck.
“Dude,” Mooner said.
Ranger stood and passed me a card with a name and address written on it. “The owner of the white Cadillac,” he said. He slipped into a black leather jacket and left. Mr. Sociable.
Morelli deposited Mooner in a chair in front of
the television, pointed his finger at him, and told him to stay.
I raised my eyebrows at Morelli.
“It works with Bob,” Morelli said. He put the television on and motioned me into the bedroom. “We need to talk.”
There was a time when the idea of being in a bedroom with Morelli scared the hell out of me. Now mostly it makes my nipples get hard.
“What's up?” I said, closing the door.
“Mooner tells me you picked out a wedding gown today.”
I closed my eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “I did! I let myself get sucked into it.” I groaned. “My mother and grandmother showed up and next thing I was trying on gowns at Tina's.”
“You'd tell me if we were getting married, wouldn't you? I mean, you wouldn't just appear on my doorstep in the gown one day and say we were due at the church in an hour.”
I sat up and narrowed my eyes at him. “No need to get snippy about it.”
“Men don't get snippy,” Morelli said. “Men get pissed. Women get snippy.”
I jumped up from the bed. “That's so typical of you to make a sexist remark!”
“Lighten up,” Morelli said. “I'm Italian. I'm supposed to make sexist remarks.”
“This is not going to work.”
“Cupcake, you'd better figure this out before your mother gets her Visa bill for that dress.”
“Well, what do you want to do? Do you want to get married?”
“Sure. Let's get married now.” He reached behind him and locked the bedroom door. “Take your clothes off.”
“What?”
Morelli pushed me down and leaned over me. “Marriage is a state of mind.”
“Not in my family.”