Georgie follows my stare. “Ooh, I see the vampire is joining us for breakfast. Let me guess. He takes his blood warm.”
“You’re not far off. It turns out, he has a bite after all.”
She swats me with a look of glee. “He bit you? Bizzy, this is big! You haven’t had this kind of action since…” Her mouth hangs open as she struggles for words, and her fingers bounce off her thumb as if she were counting the years of my dry spell.
“Never you mind.”
Jasper’s order appears, and I quickly pick it up before heading back to the kitchen and tossing on a few extra strips of bacon.
It’s Emmie’s day off, and rumor—and all of her social media sites—has it that she’s having breakfast with Grayson. Who knew a little investigative effort would yield a kernel of information for me and the rebirth of a relationship for her?
That about sums us up in a nutshell. When it comes to the two of us, Emmie always gets the better end of the romantic deal.
I speed back out, and Georgie salutes me from her seat in the corner where she, not-so-coincidentally, faces his direction.
Good luck, hot stuff. Georgie grins over at me. Don’t let him get away with not gifting you a nice big juicy bite on the neck. Aw, heck, take it on the kisser!
I avert my eyes at the thought. Jasper and his ornery lips aren’t getting anywhere near my kisser. Not in this lifetime, buddy, I say, looking right at him and my stomach bisects with heat at the thought of his lips falling to mine. How I hate that my body is such a traitor.
I zoom in his direction. “Your breakfast, coffee included—and a few extra strips of bacon for your sweet companion.”
Sherlock pants away. Thank you, Bizzy! Bacon, bacon!
“I think he’s thankful,” I say, bending over and scratching him on the back. “You’re welcome,” I whisper.
A thought comes to me.
“Detective Wilder? Do you think I can ask you a quick question?”
He extends his hand in front of him. “Please, take a seat.” There’s a softness to him today, to his tone, to his demeanor, and a part of me wonders if it’s some tried-and-true interrogation tactic that he’s using on me.
It’s no secret this man is after what I know. But, as it stands, the tables have turned, and now I’m after what he knows.
I land in the chair opposite him and get lost in those pale gray eyes without meaning to.
Beautiful. He frowns as if my so-called beauty offended him on some level. And with a man this ornery, it just might.
Yes, Detective Wilder is far too handsome for it to ever be fair, but he brings obnoxious to a whole new level.
“What’s the question?” His lips twitch as if his ego is about to get stroked. He wishes.
I sigh as I lean forward. “Do you happen to know if Kaitlynn was wearing her engagement ring the night she was killed?”
His brows pinch at the center. There is a very virial manliness about Jasper that I can’t quite explain. He has the face of a god, the body of an athlete, and the temperament of a starved crocodile.
“I don’t know. Why? Did her stepsister mention it was missing?”
“No, nothing like that. I just wondered. You know, sometimes when I’m baking, I take my rings off. And I thought maybe she took hers off to wait tables that night. Maybe it was too big for her? Or maybe she thought it was too flashy.”
She knows something. He’s right back to glowering at me. She knows something, and she’s not telling me. The funny thing is, she thinks I won’t be able to figure this out on my own.
He thinks he’s so smart.
“You know”—I clear my throat—“it’s not like you won’t be able to figure this out on your own.” I come shy of winking and watch with hidden delight as his eyes grow twice their size. I couldn’t help it. That’s always been one of my favorite things to do—especially to people as arrogant as this.
He squints over at me while silently assessing me. “Figure what out? The engagement ring?”
“Yeah, I mean, all you’d have to do is make a call to the coroner’s office, right?”
“Yes.” He shakes his head as if contradicting himself. “What would it matter if she were wearing her engagement ring or not?” he says the words measured and slow as he narrows those alien eyes on mine. The dark peppering of stubble on his face makes them glow all the more. There’s an unnecessary roughness about his demeanor, but he has an open face, and when paired with that all too stingy smile, he’s perfectly affable. “Wait a minute.” His lips expand as if to say he’s got me. “You’ve got the ring, don’t you?” His eyes run up and down my features frenetically as if quickly giving me an FBI worthy body analysis.
A hard sigh escapes me. I have never been a very good liar. Each time I’ve tried to get away with something, I’ve been magnificently called out on it—much like right now.
“All right, I have it,” I snip. “But only because I happened to stumble upon it.”
He leans in hard. “Bizzy, you have to hand that over right now.”
“No.”
“Yes.” His eyes grow wide with disbelief. “I can charge you with tampering with evidence. I can haul you out of here in handcuffs if I want to.”
I suck in a quick breath. “And to think, I gave you extra bacon.”
“Bizzy Bizzy,” a familiar deep voice chimes, and I turn to find my father heading this way with Macy in tow.
My father has called me Bizzy Bizzy for as long as I can remember, remember. He’s where I get my dark hair and light eyes from. He’s handsome, or so the long line of ladies that is always circling him has convinced us of it.
My father’s grin widens a notch my way before his brows jump. Macy swats him and whisks him off to a seat.
“That’s my father,” I snip to the ornery detective. “And you may not drag me off in handcuffs in front of him. He is the sweetest man in the world. He’s kind and nice and everybody likes him.” I shake my head at the thought. “It’s his superpower or something. Anyway, yes, I have her things. It was brought to my attention yesterday that they were still here. I need to get in touch with her mother—or her fiancé, Chris Davidson.”
He closes his eyes a moment as if he’s struggling to contain himself.
“Yes, Bizzy, I need to get in touch with the both of them again myself. But please do not go near either one of them. In a case like this, you never know who could be responsible for the carnage.”
“Oh, come on”—I balk—“her own mother?”
“I’ve seen it,” he spits it out so fast he doesn’t skip a beat.
It takes everything in me to wrap my mind around something so gruesome.
“Okay”—I shudder—“but I met Chris that night. He’ll warm up to me. I can ask him if he wants the engagement ring back. I mean, technically, it would go to him, right?”
“I don’t know. I’m not well-versed in engagements.” Not that I didn’t have the chance. But I made the right call. Every day I’m reminded of it. His eyes sweep over my features. Including this day.
“Neither am I for the record.”
“That’s right. You skipped right to the wedding.” His chest rumbles with a laugh.
Incoming ten o’clock. Georgie’s voice comes in clear just as a shadow darkens the table, and we look up to a sight of horror—my father grinning and holding out a hand toward Jasper.
“Nathaniel Baker. I’m Bizzy’s father,” he says it with a sly grin because he says everything with a sly grin. “I hear you’re a vampire. Is that true?”
“Jasper Wilder.” He shakes my father’s hand. “Homicide detective. I think that technically makes me a vampire hunter. Care to join us?”
“No, no, your breakfast is getting cold. Just wanted to say hello.” He looks my way with that ever-expanding grin on his face. “I hear you’ll have a booth at the Harvest at the Cove deal. Congrats. Georgie is trying to get me to sponsor a booth for her.” He slaps Jasper on the back. “Don’t be like me and collect
wives for a living. The wives leave and you’ll get stuck with the mothers-in-law.” He pretends to shoot him before heading back to the table where Georgie and my sister look as if they’re taking bets on something—most likely the unhinging of my sanity.
“He’s right,” I say. “Your breakfast is growing cold. I’ll see you around, detective.”
“It’s Jasper,” he insists. Why won’t she call me Jasper?
“Jasper,” I smart. I’m about to get up, but I lean in instead. “Where can I find Chris Davidson? And don’t think I can’t get this information on my own. I can google him, or I can go back to Sweet Cheeks and ask Rissa. Or I can—”
He’s back to closing his eyes, but this time instead of a fit of frustration he seems to be acquiescing.
“What Ales You,” he says. “It’s his family’s brewing company. They have a big plant just outside of—”
“Seaview.” I nod. “I’m familiar. They have a restaurant and a bar on site. Emmie took me there for my twenty-first birthday.”
His brow arches as if he were amused. “Did you enjoy it?”
“I don’t drink, but the beer battered fish and chips were to die for.” I wince. “Thank you,” I say just under my breath. “Enjoy your breakfast.” I stand to leave and he lifts a finger.
“One-thirty,” he says. “I’ll be taking a late lunch. I’ll meet you there,” he says it stern enough while locking eyes with me. It’s not like I’m going to stop her. Heck, she’s already proven unstoppable. Not only do I have a homicide investigation that’s going sideways, but I’ve got a wild card that’s willing to put herself in harm’s way while playing armchair detective.
My mouth opens with surprise as I’m about to rip him a new one for even suggesting I’m an armchair anything, but I think better of it.
“Thank you, Jasper.” I swallow down my pride. “I look forward to getting to know you better. And for the record, I just want to make sure Kaitlynn’s things get into the right hands.”
“They will. I’ll be collecting them before I leave.”
I narrow my gaze over his with marked hostility as I resist the very real urge to wrap my hands around his neck.
“I’ll bring them to lunch with me.”
He cinches his lips. A woman who needs to have the last word. It’s best to hand over the reins if you want any peace. I’ve learned that before the hard way. But those lips.
I turn to leave and take my lips along with me.
Chapter 9
Downtown Seaview is beautiful despite the fact the autumn air is frigid. The high-rises glitter like jewels in the afternoon sun. I take a turn to the outskirts of town where the What Ales You brewery sits like a robotic behemoth sprawled over acres of what looks to be the edge of the world. There is literally nothing behind it or near it for miles.
I park just out front and head into the cosmopolitan restaurant that was tacked onto the plant decades ago by the Davidson family. I still remember coming here with Emmie and our friends on my twenty-first birthday—Emmie’s first but not last attempt to get me good and shnockered.
It didn’t work.
As soon as I caught on that beer, and coincidentally all alcohol, tastes the way nail polish remover smells, I wanted nothing to do with the iconic rite of passage. And I’ve wanted nothing to do with liquor ever since either. I have nothing against it. I just don’t want it.
Large gold letters sit against a polished black backdrop with the words What Ales You Eatery printed on the side of the building. I head on in through the heavy glass door, and the scent of French fries and beer hits my senses.
I’m insanely hungry. I’m also insanely not thirsty for beer, which is most likely a good thing since I’m probably a lightweight and I happen to have driven myself out this way. Not to mention I’ll be alone with Jasper. God knows I’ll need ahold of every one of my senses to deal with him.
The waitress asks to seat me, and I tell her I’m meeting Jasper Wilder. Her eyes grow wide as she bears an all too approving grin. I follow her deep inside and straight to a table by the window where Jasper greets me with a short-lived smile.
He stands a moment as I take a seat. “Bizzy Baker. You ready for your first covert op?” He gives a slight wink, and I can’t help but think he’s mocking me.
She smells good. What is that? Lilacs? Gardenia? No, it’s something warmer. Something that reminds me of home.
“It’s vanilla,” I say, giving a slight wink of my own right back, and he looks as if he’s just seen a ghost. “You looked like you were wondering what that delicious scent was. I practically bathed in vanilla before I left. I was helping Emmie whip up another batch of apple walnut cinnamon rolls and accidently spilt the bottle of vanilla on my jeans. That about says everything you need to know about my talents in the kitchen. But I do wish I had them. Anyway, I’d change, but it’d be a waste of expensive perfume. If you knew how much a bottle of vanilla extract costs, you might actually faint.”
He squints over at me a moment. “I think I know. My mother bakes. She’s lamented about it a few times. And you were right. I was thinking that you smelled good. You’re intuitive. I like that.” He’s right back to narrowing his gaze over me, and I bubble with a laugh.
There is nothing better than testing a grown man’s sanity.
“A compliment.” I perk up just enough. “Women appreciate that, and it’s a surefire way to get on their good side. But I’m guessing you know exactly how to get on a woman’s good side. And I’m guessing women like to get on your good side, too. I think it’s safe to assume you’re being chased by a fair share of women. And if not, you will be in Cider Cove. I witnessed Mayor Woods blatantly making a play for your attention.”
A waitress comes by, and we quickly put in an order for a couple of fish and chips and drinks. Just water for me, but Jasper agrees to try the apple beer.
He tilts his head to the side. “So you’re giving me dating tips? I like that.” He pulls his lips into a line as he leans in over his elbows.
He’s getting comfortable with me. Either that or he’s setting me up. I still haven’t figured out how to read him. One thing I can read loud and clear is the fact he’s alarmingly attractive. It doesn’t seem fair. My heart can’t stop racing in his presence, and my stomach bottoms out in that annoying roller coaster way each time he bears those gray high beams he calls eyes into mine.
“So—are you dating?” I clear my throat. “I mean, they don’t call Cider Cove, Lover’s Cove for nothing.” I can feel my face heat ten degrees. Lover’s Cove? Did I really need to go there? A part of me thinks I did. “Has anyone in town caught your eye? Or are you an equal opportunity dispatcher of your carnal affections?” I’m guessing the latter.
His chest thumps with a silent laugh.
Yes, you’ve caught my eye. He nods my way as if he said the words out loud, and a breath catches in my throat.
“No one in particular.” He shrugs, but his magnetic gaze never leaves mine, and I’m finding it impossible to look away. “How about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“No. I’ve dated here and there, but I’m so busy with the inn—and my family, and Emmie and Georgie. I guess you can say I have a pretty full life.”
“You should make time for yourself.” He twirls his glass between his fingers as he looks my way. “Life has a way of slipping on by when we least expect it, and the next thing we know, years have danced by.”
“If you’re about to segue into a soliloquy about how my eggs won’t last forever, you’ll have to stand in line behind my mother. You’re not about to ask for grandchildren, are you?” I can’t help but tease him.
He grimaces just as our food arrives.
“I’m sorry.” He holds up a hand. “In no way was I about to segue into that arena. I fully trust you can handle that on your own. How about we discuss the case?”
I dunk a piece of beer battered fish into the malt vinegar and die on the inside as I take a sinful bite. A hard moan comes from me, and
something akin to white noise sizzles through Jasper’s mind. I’m more than familiar with that high frequency whooshing sound because it just so happens to be the same response most men have to anything sexual. And that’s one bit of telepathic info I’m sorry I’m privy to.
“It’s just as good as I remember,” I’m quick to assure him. “And yes, the case. Do we know if Chris is at the plant today? I think we should speak to him.”
“He is.” His left brow lifts high into his forehead. “But it will be me speaking to him. I’m sorry, Bizzy. You and I both know he might be the killer. I can’t put you in that kind of danger.”
“You said yourself it was a crime of passion. He’s not killing me.”
“He might if he thinks you’re onto him.”
“If that’s the case, he might kill you, too.”
He gives a solid blink as if his exasperation with me was growing. “He won’t. I’m the investigating detective. Believe me when I say he will be on his best behavior in my presence.”
“Ah-ha!” I’m quick to point my finger at him. “So, you agree that you’ll get nothing from him but a big hoax of a personality. That’s why you need me.”
He leans in. “I don’t need you, Bizzy.”
My eyes widen at the audacity.
His mouth twits with disdain. And why did that just feel like a lie?
Ha! “You do need me and we both know it.”
“No, I don’t.” He shakes his head emphatically. “Because the last thing I need is another homicide investigation on my hands. Trust me. I’m a very easygoing person.”
“I’ve yet to see evidence of this.”
He’s right back to closing his eyes. “Okay. You may not see it in this instance, but I’m also protective of the people I care about.”
“Aw.” I don’t bother to hide my sarcastic inflection. “You’ve known me for five sweet seconds and already you’re pulling the I care about you card.”
“I care about you as a person. You’re the innkeeper. You have a very important position. A lot of people are relying on you. You have a loving family.”
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