Page 47 of Goose

With her hands behind her back, she twisted her hips back and forth playfully. She smirked. “Do you carry a wallet?”

I admired her for a moment before responding. “I do. Why?”

She shrugged. “Some guys don’t. They carry money clips, or whatever.”

“Yeah, I guess so. I prefer a wallet. I need it in my back pocket, so I know where everything is at all times. It’s like a wad of reassurance back there.”

“I bet.” She raised her brows in wonder. “Do you wear a watch?”

The line of questioning had sure taken an odd turn. I saw it as a strange change of pace. It didn’t shock me. Ally had a very quirky personality, and was unpredictable, to say the least.

“I’ve got to wear a watch,” I explained. “For some stupid reason, I always need to know what time it is.”

If I didn’t have on a watch, I couldn’t function. I checked the time repeatedly throughout the day. I was surprised she hadn’t noticed.

Still swiveling her hips back and forth, she nodded toward my hand. “Is there a reason why you aren’t wearing a watch now?”

I reached for my wrist. My watch was gone. “Fuck,” I exclaimed, looking around us, frantically. “I wonder where the fucker is. I had it on just a minute ago.”

“Probably the same place your wallet is. I kind of remember you paying for dinner, but I didn’t see it in your pocket after that. I wonder if you left it at the restaurant.”

I reached for my back pocket. My wallet was gone. I went frantic. I knew I had it at the restaurant. I remembered getting it from my back pocket and pulling out a fifty-dollar-bill to pay for our meal.

“C’mon,” I said. “We need to run back there and see if I left—”

She produced her hands. She had my watch pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and my wallet in the other hand. I gawked in amazement, almost feeling as if I was seeing something that simply couldn’t be. I then remembered her saying she was a slight of hand expert. Even so, it was unbelievable.

“Jesus.” I swallowed heavily. “You took that shit from me without me suspecting anything. If you hadn’t said anything, I wouldn’t have noticed until the next time I looked at my watch. Even then, I wouldn’t have suspected you took them. That’s insane.”

“To prove my worth, I’ve also got these,” she said, opening the hand she held the watch with. She nodded toward her open palm. “Have a look.”

My key ring was cupped in her palm.

I carried the keys in the front pocket of my jeans. For her to reach inside and remove my them unnoticed would take much more than a slight of hand trick. It was a fucking miracle.

I gawked at her hand in amazement. “What. The. Fuck.”

“So, to answer your question.” She grinned. “Yes, I’m a thief.”

“Pickpocket,” I argued. “You’re a pickpocket.”

“For what it’s worth,” she explained. “A person could take these keys, press them into a piece of wax, and then return them into your pocket without you noticing. The wax impression could then be used to make a duplicate key, which would allow access to a home without breaking a window or picking a lock. One could walk in, in front of neighbors, without suspicion. Theoretically, of course.”

I studied her for a moment. She was an adorable, innocent twentysomething. At least she appeared to be one.

“How old are you?” I asked.

“Thirty-two.”

“Bullshit,” I said with a laugh. “Twenty-two, maybe. Hell, you could pass for eighteen.”

“I’m thirty-two.”

“What year were you born?” I asked.

“I might be a thief, but I’m not a fucking liar.” She tossed me my items one by one. “If you’re going to treat me like one, or call me one, you can go fuck yourself, Goose.”

“Settle down,” I said.