Carlton settled into the hot leather seat of his Crown Vic with a sigh. It had been a slow Monday at the station and he was looking forward to a long lunch at one of his and O'Hara's favorite restaurants. He pulled out from the station and onto the streets of Santa Barbara, heading for the main road.

As O'Hara chattered to him about the case they had closed last week, Carlton smiled to himself. Today he didn't have to go the long way to avoid any sort of close proximity to the Psych office. Spencer and O'Hara's kid didn't go to daycare on Mondays, which meant the annoying ex-psychic was safely at their apartment on the other end of the city.

Carlton pulled onto State Street, and started grumbling about the tourist traffic just as O'Hara's phone rang. She glanced at the screen and the apology on her face when she looked up at him was enough to tell him who it was.

“Just answer,” he said, waving a long hand vaguely. “He'll just keep calling until you do.”

She smiled in thanks and brought the phone to her ear. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Carlton winced. And he had been hoping for an entire day without Spencer.

“Wait, when?” O'Hara said, sounding shocked.

As Carlton snagged the last remaining parking spot at the small cafe, he glanced over. He had no doubt Spencer had done something stupid again.

O'Hara continued. “As in, the Wednesday two days from now?”

Carlton turned the car off and sat back, thinking with longing of the meatballs that awaited him inside. O'Hara better wrap this up soon.

“Shawn, we can't take Owen with us.” She paused, listening. “Please tell me you're kidding. We can't let our three-year-old crowd surf.”

Carlton rolled his eyes, checking his watch in as obvious manner as possible.

O'Hara caught on. “Let's just talk about it when I get home, okay? We'll figure something out.” She listened for a moment, smiling. “I love you, too.”

Carlton pretended not to hear that last part and exited the car, his stomach growling. “What's that idiot done this time?” he asked as Juliet climbed out of the passenger side.

“Carlton, don't call him that,” she replied, as usual when Carlton insulted Spencer. “He just bought concert tickets for Simple Minds.”

Remembering the crowd-surfing comment, Carlton snorted. “And he wants to take your kid?”

“Well,” she replied, walking into the cafe with him. “The problem is that Gus is visiting his in-laws in Arizona and Henry's on a fishing trip with some of his old buddies from the force, so our regular babysitters are gone.”

Carlton grunted, pondering on Spencer's irresponsibility.

O'Hara sighed as they sank into their favorite booth. “And it's a concert. We really can't take Owen with us. And we won't be getting back from LA until late, so I don't want to leave him with the teenager down the street.”

Good idea, Carlton agreed internally. You just never know when someone will turn out to be a serial killer.

“I don't want Shawn to think that I don't want to go,” O'Hara continued. “But he just doesn't think these things through very well, and I don't know who to ask on such short notice.”

Carlton frowned as an interesting thought came to him. She looked pretty depressed about this, and it wasn't like he had plans. “I could babysit,” he blurted, trying to act casual and picking up a menu.

There was silence on the other side of the table and Carlton glanced up, over the edge of his plastic barrier. O'Hara was staring at him. “What?” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you think I can't do it?”

“No!” O'Hara said, her eyes widening. “I'm just . . . surprised you offered.”

Carlton returned his attention to the menu. “Just take it or leave it, O'Hara,” he grumbled.

“Carlton, are you sure? Because that would be perfect,” she replied, and he recognized the giddy tone in her voice. She might hug him any minute.

He leaned back against the plastic cushion, raising the menu a little higher. “I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure.”

She grinned widely at him, but then suddenly frowned. “Do you . . . have any experience? With little kids, I mean?”

He glared. “If Spencer hasn't managed to screw the kid up yet, I hardly think I will. Besides, I used to babysit my little sister all the time.”

She was staring at him again. “You did?”

“Yes,” Carlton answered as curtly as possible in an attempt to end this particular conversation.

O'Hara smiled at him and then glanced down at the menu still in his hands. “Why are you looking at that? We both know you're going to get the meatballs.”