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“So, Shawn, if I’m not a suspect anymore, then what do you want from me?” Toby asked.
Shawn smiled.
‘I know of several great establishments that will blow your tastebuds. Then afterwards, we can see where this goes. God, I hope he’s at least curious. He has fabulous hair. And those eyes!
Toby grinned at the thoughts; Shawn in person was intense and vivid, his inner thoughts were very similar, with the volume cranked all the way up. Shawn put his hands up. “Whoa, are you reading me right now? Invasion of privacy, dude. You as a fellow psychic should know this.”
“And what if I liked what I read?” Toby asked. Shawn acted nonchalantly on the outside, but his thoughts radiated outwards, We are the Champions playing faintly in the distance. Toby’s grin widened.
He’s doing it again. Gosh, he’s good. So good. I wonder what else he’s good at.
“Hmmm, you’re going to have to make it up to me.” Shawn said, giving him a very serious look. “You’re reading my thoughts again. Steee-riike 2. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”
“How will I ever make it up to you?” Toby shoved his hands in his pockets.
I can think of a few ways. Came Shawn’s silent reply. Shawn smirked at him. He raised his hand to his head. “I’m getting something.” He inhaled sharply, eyes flittering shut. A knowing look crossed his features as he opened his eyes, staring intensely at Toby. “It’s dim, jumbled, you and me and there’s some delicious food between us and then there isn’t and it’s just us. Also you’re paying, since you asked me out first, but that hasn’t happened just yet.”
Toby wasn’t sure if Shawn was actually psychic. Shawn, as if picking up on that, shut his eyes again, as if wracked by a psychic vision. “oooh, I’m really getting something!” He took a step forward, opened his eyes. “Ambulance lights! A police task force badge! Turkish food?” Shawn exhaled heavily as the vision cleared. “You’re a paramedic, you work for the Canadian police as a consultant and your best friend works with you and is Turkish.” He took another step, the distance between them closing up fast. “You and I aren’t that much different. Two psychics in the same pod.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s two peas in the same pod.” Toby corrected softly.
Shawn shrugged mid-lean. “I’ve heard it both ways.” Toby was hearing the lead singer of Queen shout out his iconic chorus as Shawn’s breath ghosted over his face—
“Spencer!” Lassiter barked, racing across the parking lot. “Where have you been?”
Shawn leapt back three feet, a record scratch shutting down the music in his mind. “Lassie-face!”
Toby reached out, finding a swarm of angry bees in Lassiter’s aura. He didn’t suspect anything.
“Spencer, I swear, the Chief has been calling you for the past ten minutes.” He turned to point at Toby. “He’s not part of this anymore. Why is he here?”
“He’s not from here, Lassie. He’s an out of towner. Townie? Someone who is out of town? Regardless, he needed directions and I was more than happy to give them to him.”
“Save the public service for your free time, Spencer. We have a case to work on.” Lassiter grumbled, storming off towards headquarters.
Shawn was always good at multitasking; he pecked Toby on the cheek, slipped a business card into his jacket pocket (Toby felt it, having a history with pickpocketing) and zipped after the head detective.
Toby lifted a finger to his cheek with a grin and dug out the card. It was the Psych office and had an address.
“Shawn, I’ve been calling you for the past hour and you haven’t—Oh, you’re not him. Can I help you?” Gus’ demeanor went from angry best friend to cool professional in two seconds flat. Toby was impressed. He closed the Psych office door behind him, motorcycle helmet in hand.
“Hi. Toby Logan. Mr. Spencer asked me to wait here for him?”
“Burton Guster, I work here with Shawn. Have a seat.”
Toby took it.
Shawn popped up behind Gus. “Gus! You’ve met Toby! Great!”
Gus grabbed his arm. “May we speak alone?”
Behind closed doors, Gus rounded on Shawn. “Shawn, what the hell?”
“What do you mean ‘what the hell’?”
“Don’t you play dumb with me, Shawn. You can’t bring a date to a crime scene.”
Shawn held up two fingers. “ALMOST DATE. And yes, I totally can.”
“Oh my God you are interested in him.” Gus gaped.
Shawn gave him a look. “Of course I’m interested in him. He’s dreamy. And legitimately psychic. It’s a stunning combination. I can’t help but be attracted. This must be how all of my clients feel about me.” Shawn narrowed his eyes. “You’re not seriously having a problem with this?”
“Shawn, it’s unprofessional to bring a date to a crime scene. That’s all I’m saying. I’ve known you were interested in both sides since senior year. So, what are your plans?”
“Ask the guy to dinner. Kiss the guy. Aiming for an 80s movies marathon and some couch cuddling. Make breakfast. Solve the case.”
“About the case.” Gus said with a frown.
“As per usual, solve it before Lassie-face does and rake in all the pseudo psychic glory.” Shawn said with a grin. He stared dreamily out the door.
“Shawn, can you focus for two seconds without ogling the man in our office?”
Shawn thought about that. “Not really, no.”