Sedona Law 5 by Dave Daren (e book reader android .TXT) 📗

Vicki mumbled something unintelligible, and then the rooster crowed again.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go for a sunrise jog.”

“Like we have a choice?” she groused as she stumbled out of bed.

A few minutes later, I turned on my phone pedometer, and we jogged through downtown Sedona. It really is beautiful this time of morning. The Red Rocks glowed a faint orange in the distance over the expansive pink and purple Arizona sky. The town was still asleep, and the hot desert wind blew across our faces as we rounded the corner toward the city.

Quaint eateries, boutique health food stores, pleasing landscaping, and then the LotusWorx shop I had been hearing so much about lately. We kept going and passed a Native American craft shop, where people could buy beaded jewelry and southwest patterned blankets made on the reservations down Route 66.

Not far from that, there was a health food store called Earth Market, which would have been our grocery store of choice, if Vicki and I actually cooked. As it was, I had helped Perry McGrath negotiate a deal to get his kombucha on the shelves.

We kept going and finally rounded back around toward our office and Jitters. It was fully sunrise now, and we would have to open the office soon, but breakfast beckoned.

“You wanna go in?” I panted to Vicki.

“Are you kidding?” She doubled over to catch her breath. “How far did we go?”

I checked my pedometer app. “Five miles.”

She nodded, and, still short of breath, we went inside. We ordered a massive breakfast of omelettes, French croissants, fresh fruit, and crepes.

“You know,” I said through a mouthful of food, “we should start cooking. This really isn’t that hard.”

“I’ve been thinking that, too,” she replied. “You know Earth Market has gourmet cooking classes?”

“Really?” I asked in surprise. “I did not know that.”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod. “They’ve got that whole cafe area.”

“That I knew,” I responded as I stabbed another piece of strawberry with my fork. “Their coffee sucks, but their sandwiches aren’t bad.”

The health food store was known for its coffee shop-cafe that served as a gathering place for hipsters to hang out over paninis and mediocre coffee.

“I was thinking we should sign up,” she said.

“For a cooking class?” I asked and shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Why not?” she pouted. “It would be fun.”

“I don’t want half of Sedona to know I can’t cook,” I grumbled.

She laughed. “You and your ego. No one would care. Besides, they’d be so busy trying to corner you for free legal advice, they wouldn’t even notice.”

I laughed. “You’re probably right about that.”

“I am right,” she said with a grin. “I’m always right.”

“Now who has the ego,” I teased and winked at her.

“Well,” she sniffed and took a sip of her coffee, “at least I can make toast in the toaster.”

“Okay,” I narrowed my eyes, “that situation was way more complicated than that. The toaster--”

She laughed and cut me off. “Okay, Henry. You keep telling yourself that.”

“Alright,” I said and pointed my fork at her. “You want to play this game? Let’s talk about those quote-unquote cinnamon rolls you made.”

She buried her head in shame and laughed.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to practically chip a tooth on a cinnamon roll,” I added.

“It was a bad recipe,” she groaned as she picked up her head. “I did exactly what it said on the video. I don’t know why it didn’t work.”

“Uh-huh,” I teased. “I know why it didn’t work. User error is what happened.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “Let’s sign up for the class.”

“I don’t know,” I drawled. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain in this town.”

She laughed really hard. “You are such a prima donna! I swear! Think of it this way, when we get our house built out, don’t you want to have dinner parties with clients?”

“Clients at our house?” I shuddered. “I don’t know about that.”

“Come on, Henry,” she cajoled. “The whole big city bachelor, I’m-too-cool-to-cook-unless-it’s-to-impress-a-date thing has played itself out. Time to grow up.”

I laughed. “Fine. But I’m only committing to one lesson.”

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll sign us up for the next one.”

I sighed. “Are we becoming a legit Sedona couple?”

“I would say so,” she said and smiled at me. “Is that so wrong?”

“Not with you,” I replied instantly, and her smile only grew.

We paid the bill and jogged the quarter mile back to the cottage. Then we showered, changed, and drove back out to the office.

AJ was there when we arrived.

“Have you ever heard of those cooking classes at Earth Market?” I asked her as I set my bag down.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “They teach you how to grill paninis and make quiche, I think. Those classes are wicked expensive.”

“Hmm,” I hummed and scratched my cheek. “Are they any good, do you know?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “They’re really good at turning people into food snobs, if that’s what you mean. But, teaching them to cook, I couldn’t tell you.”

“That’s about what I thought,” I sighed, and Vicki laughed.

“He thinks it’ll be bad for his rep to go to a cooking class,” Vicki told her.

“What rep?” AJ responded with a grin.

AJ and Vicki both laughed.

“The rep that keeps money and clients coming in through that door,” I muttered in mock offense.

“Uh-huh,” Vicki said and flipped her hair. “Oh, you mean the rep about how hot I am?”

“Yeah,” AJ said to me. “People say she’s the Kate Middleton of Sedona.”

“What can I say?” Vicki smirked proudly as she sat on her desk and affected an overly prim pose. “I’m just mesmerizing. This town needs me.”

I laughed and threw a crumpled piece of paper at her, and she ducked with