“And what about the girls she works with? I heard her screaming at Tinsley. Greer said she could blow this whole thing out of the water. What do you think that was about?”
He shakes his head, and I get the feeling it has less to do with the fact he’s unaware of why she would say it and more to do with him not willing to share the details.
Tinsley. I nod up at him without saying another word. I think I know who I’m going to speak with as soon as I wrap up my investigation on the Elite Entourage during my special date with Everett. I don’t see a single thing wrong with the two of us meeting up with one of Greer’s coworkers at a seedy motel in Leeds in hopes to learn more about the girl whose body I discovered—even if it is under the guise of a threesome.
Noah brushes the hair from my eyes. “You okay? You look a little green around the edges. Am I losing my touch?”
“Heavens no. If anything, your superpowers are growing. Speaking of which. How’s your leg?”
His head hitches to the side. “The leg I scratched up on that splinted Oxford dictionary?” He lifts a brow in disbelief at the fib I shoveled his way.
“That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.”
“There was a medic at the station. I asked him to look at it. He was certain there were teeth marks.”
“Strange. A book with bite can be a dangerous thing.” I shrug right along with the lame excuse.
“Lottie, you don’t have another mouth somewhere on your body, do you? Because if you have some physical anomaly, I will love you just the same. In fact, I can think of a few ways to put that mouth to work.”
“That’s because you’re a pervert at heart.” I manufacture a smile. “Come to think of it, it’s what I like best about you.” Speaking of Noah’s perverted ways, I’m thanking my unlucky stars that Dutch chose to stay home tonight. After those vigorous calisthenics Noah put me through, and don’t even get me started on the acrobatics in the shower—Dutch might have gone for the jugular, and I would certainly have been hovering over yet another body.
A thought comes to me, and I dig my fingers into the back of his damp hair.
“I guess tonight was an official Valentine’s Day do-over, don’t you think?”
Noah touches his nose to mine for a moment. “Yes, and for the record, it was the best Valentine’s do-over ever. Thank you, Lottie Kenzie Lemon, for gracing my life with your presence.”
My heart thumps wildly, and my body prickles with excitement. Here it comes. My wedding hungry finger can practically feel the ring. I’m going to be Mrs. Noah Corbin Fox. Lottie Kenzie Fox. Lottie Kenzie Lemon-Fox? Oh, I’ll figure it out. Just give me that yummy name already.
“Yes!” I bleat with far too much enthusiasm and cringe because he hasn’t even asked the question yet.
“I’m glad you agree.”
“I do. In fact, I feel like saying yes to just about anything tonight.” I look up at him from under my lashes.
“In that case”—he pulls me onto his enormous, steely chest—“I think we’d better start the night from scratch.”
I nod. “Is there something important you’d like to ask me first?”
A naughty grin glides over his face. “Ready for round two?”
Not the question I had in mind. But what the heck.
“Yes.”
We take it a full nine rounds, and Noah totally knocks it out of the park. I expected nothing less.
But in my heart, I hoped for a question that might have required hardware. I love Noah so much I’d say yes in a heartbeat, no hardware required.
Yes, yes, I would.
Chapter 51
There is only one cardinal sin when it comes to baking, and that is forgetting to make sure you have all of the ingredients. When I place my weekly orders, I double and triple-check that I will have more than enough to yield all the tasty treats necessary to keep the residents and tourists alike in Honey Hollow as happy as can be.
When it comes to my unusual abilities, my transmundane status, further reduced to supersensual, Nell forewarned of one big cosmic no-no, and that was to never claim one of the long-deceased creatures as my own. But as fate and my chronic bad luck would have it, I had already carved one precious phantasm over my heart before Nell uttered a word. And here I am contemplating an unfortunate future, strewn with proverbial broken mirrors, spilt salt, a never-ending walk underneath a ladder.
My mind boiled over with all of the things that could go wrong, that have already gone very, very wrong. But it wasn’t until this morning when I woke up snuggling with Dutch—because let’s be honest, there is no softer pillow—that it occurred to me, I might be playing with fire.
No sooner did my feet hit the floor than I tripped over Pancake’s bed and nearly decapitated myself on the nightstand. The coffee maker broke, my car battery died, my catering van got a flat on the way over to Main Street, my key broke in the lock as I tried to let myself into the bakery, the proofer wouldn’t fire up, I burned six batches of cookies, and nearly set the entire building on fire when a dishrag went up in flames after I accidentally dropped it into the oven. Yes, suffice it to say, I had a run of very bad luck today, and all of that was before six a.m.
Just past noon, once the lunch crowd dies down, and oddly we do have a lunch rush—apparently, a hankering for a cheesecake pizza is a very real thing—an all too familiar face wanders into the establishment—mine, i.e., Carlotta Sawyer, the woman who not only evicted me from her uterus but from her life as well.
“Just the ghoul I was hoping to see.” I make a beeline her way, and Dutch bounds along with me.
“Hey, big boy,” she says with a husky growl, offering him up a quick scratch. “What’s cooking?” She blinks my way. “I just stopped by to pick up a few chocolate snowballs for the flower shop. Rhonda was nice enough to give me a job.”
“Wow, a place to live and a job? You’ve either snowed her good, or she really is a genuine friend.”
Her eyes narrow in on mine. “It’s the latter. I can assure you of it.”
I quickly box her up a dozen chocolate snowballs and throw in a few chocolate macadamia macaroons as well. No charge. I plan on making her pay in other ways.
“You said you were hoping to see me.” Her lips expand in a smug little grin. “Is that your way of saying you’re ready for a mother-daughter sit-down?”
“My mother isn’t here,” I smart, and I don’t mind at all because, honestly, I think Carlotta here can take the heat. “But, yes, you can say I am.”
“Good.” She plunks down at the nearest table, the pink one with the peach chairs to go with it and a baby blue one on the end. It’s my favorite of all the piecemealed table-chair combos. It was Bear’s idea to have a pastel mishmash in the café, and it might just honestly be one of the brightest ideas he’s ever had—that in conjunction to blowing a walkway through the bakery that leads into the Honey Pot Diner.
Carlotta leans in, her face smooths out to a somewhat affable version of herself. “I was a wild child with a mean streak.”
“I would have never guessed.”
She scowls. “You get your sassy mouth from me. You’re welcome.”
Dutch barks, and she flits her eyes his way.
“You also get your supersensual side from me.”
“Nell said there was a letter I was supposed to get when she passed away. Something that would break everything down for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s not what she said. Nell made it clear that if I were to reveal myself, that she wanted me to be the one to relay the news to you.” Her brows hike with amusement.
“Relay away. I happened to have one disturbing morning, and if that string of bad juju keeps up, there’s no telling where this day will end. In exactly five hours, I have a hot date—with two people—and if things go south, the three of us could end up dead or in prison.”
She gasps and gives the table a swat. “Would you stop that? Good God, do you realize the danger you’re putting yourself in
by speaking that out in the universe?”
I suck in a quick breath. “Is that part of our powers? Speaking things into existence? Now that’s something I can work with. I’ll be a billionaire by midnight.”
“No, Lottie, it’s just a well-known universal truth.” She glances to Dutch a moment. “You need to release the friendly fleabag.”
I can’t help but frown at her less than congenial reference to my favorite haunted hound.
“I don’t know how to release him, and I don’t know if I want to.” Dutch butts his head against my arm until I lavish him with a bit of affection. “But I must say, he bit my boyfriend on the leg and drew blood. And he’s starting to move things. Not all the time like that ornery bear last month, but I have to admit, it’s scaring the pants right off of me.”
A devilish laugh percolates inside of her. “I bet your boyfriend appreciates that.”
“Oh, he does, but he won’t for long. What if Dutch goes insane and bites his face off?”
She blinks to the ceiling. “I don’t know how much plainer I can be. Fido needs to hitch a ride back on the nearest comet bound for paradise. You can’t keep him. He’s not yours. And if you think that whatever happened this morning is a little off-putting, then you’re in for a big surprise, Sugar Cookie, because that bad juju, as you so referenced it, compounds itself daily by a hundred. Hear that? It supernaturally compounds itself.”
I gasp so hard you’d think I just inhaled one of the aforementioned sugar cookies.
“That’s right.” Her dark red nails clatter over the table. “Until you send this supernatural misfit back to the Rainbow Bridge he slid in from, you are a walking, talking hurricane of misfortune that best be avoided.” She jumps up and shudders as she looks to Dutch. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste a single moment.”
She tries to leave, but I block her path. “Wait! You can’t go. How do I get rid of him? And what if I can’t because I love him so much?” My hearts seizes with pain, and Dutch whimpers as if he understood. “Nell alluded to the fact there were others like us. I need to find them. No offense, but I need to know everything about this thing that plagues us.” I glance over my shoulder at Lily who’s helping a new flock of customers. “Are you having the same misfortune that I am?” I look right into Carlotta Sawyer’s eyes. “Are you finding bodies?”
She inches back as if I just tossed one at her. “No. My goodness, it doesn’t happen to everyone. I’m supersensual light.” A husky laugh rumbles through her. “I get to sit back and watch all the fumbles and the tumbles without getting down and dirty. No death and taxes here.” She gives a hard wink. “And as for returning this beast to sender, the power lies entirely within you. Your first error was to welcome him into your life. You really do need to learn all about setting boundaries, or else the living and the dead will walk all over you.”
“Duly noted. The next time I fall hard for a friendly spook I’ll simply—DO WHAT?” I can’t help but shout that last part at her.
She blinks back a moment. “Understand that they’re here for a purpose, and if you see them getting a little too attached, you need to step in and tell them what’s what.”
“What’s what?” Why do I get the feeling she isn’t going to break this down into scientific terms for me?
“That’s right. You just tell him to boot scoot his way to the other side and mean it. If a random dog wandered into your yard, you wouldn’t keep it. You’d look for its family. And once you knew who it belonged to, you’d return it, because it’s the right thing to do. Keeping this tail-wagging apparition of adversity will only magnify your misfortune. Dig down deep, Lottie Lemon, and let him off the spiritual leash you’ve bound him with.” She heads for the door. “The next time I’m headed to a meeting, I’ll give you the heads-up!”
“A meeting?” I take a breath. “A meeting! Yes! Please do!” I shout after her and watch as she heads down the snow-lined street.
I look to Dutch, panting as if I just ran all the way to the other side myself.
Spiritual leash? I’ve bound Dutch to the planet? Then I guess it’s up to me to send him back.
He looks to me with those big ruby red eyes I’ve grown to love. I need to send you home, big boy—but my heart breaks just thinking about it.
Carlotta had it wrong. Dutch has me leashed right around his big hairy heart, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out how to say goodbye.
I don’t think I can.
Chapter 52
The Star Light Motel isn’t nearly as seedy as one might think. It’s even seedier than that.
Dutch barks up at it as if the place were on fire and he forbids us from entering the bawdy establishment.
The thirteen-story eyesore is topped with a neon sign of a woman lying on her back, a stack of bills in her fist, and I can’t help but wonder what idiot approved the neon blunder.
“At least they’re subtle,” Everett muses. He’s still wearing his suit. His silver tie gleams in the moonlight as we gaze on this, our next great adventure with a sense of dubious wonder.
“Let’s hope our girl is just as subtle when it comes to keeping secrets.” I give Dutch’s head a quick pat in an effort to calm his nerves. It looks as if neither of us is all that excited to be here.
Everett, Dutch, and I head on in and right up to the thirteenth floor, to the penthouse suite—I’m assuming they use the term loosely here.
Everett tucks his hand into my lower back as we step off the elevator. “Lemon, I want to thank you for sharing that information with me on the ride over.”
I spilled deep and wide about everything Carlotta said this afternoon. I may have left out my peculiar run of bad luck this morning, but only because I have no intention on rattling the good judge. Not that I’ve ever seen Everett rattled. Not even when his father came back from the dead for a long overdue family reunion. And, honestly, if that didn’t shake him, the fact my coffee maker exploded wouldn’t do a darn thing.
I give his arm a squeeze. “I want to share everything with you.” It’s not until the words leave my mouth do I realize how intimate they sounded. “I mean, you know.” I shrug and wince at the same time. “I kind of do.” It’s true, but in a totally platonic sense.
Dutch makes a strange whinnying sound as if he were laughing, and I snarl at him.
“I appreciate that.” Everett’s lips pull back with the idea of a smile. “So, what’s on the agenda with this woman?”
“I don’t know. You’re the expert in that department. Surely you can wrangle any deep, dark secret involving Greer out of her, considering the fact you can wrangle just about anything from any woman you want.”
“I have news for you, Lemon. A conversation is on the bottom of the list of things this woman plans on doing with us.”
“Gah!” I hop right out of his reach. “We need to make this work. Once we wrangle the info out of her, maybe we can have a big fight? I’ll leave, and you chase after me.”
His brow lifts as if he were contemplating his options.
“I said you chase after me. That is a direct order,” I bark the words out, and his chest bounces with a dry laugh.
“Onward.”
Everett gives a firm knock on the door, and a sultry-eyed vixen with peroxide blonde hair opens up. She outright moans with just one look at the comely court herald.
“Hello, honey”—she purrs without taking her eyes off of him—“my name is Fantasia, but you can call me Fannie.” A menacing growl evicts itself from her throat as she gives his tie a quick tug. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this!” She hops alongside him, and the door nearly hits me in the face.
“Neither was I,” I muse, inspecting the bodacious beauty. She’s wearing a pink kimono and matching stilettos, and looks as if she’s ready and willing to ditch both at Everett’s command. “We’re here for a couples’ appointment.” Good grief, I could not bring myself to use the proper terminology for what we’re supposed to be doing here—with her.
Criminy.
Do people, with solid heads on their shoulders, really sign up for stuff like this? Not to mention the fact they’re paying for it. Speaking of exchanging legal tender, I brought along a couple hundred bucks. I figure I can toss it like confetti on my way out the door. That way the night isn’t a total loss for her. There is no way on this planet can Everett pay for sex or his career will be over for good. And I would never forgive myself if that happened.
My eyes bulge as I look to him a moment. It’s a real deer in the unemployment line headlights of a moment. My God, what am I dragging this poor man into?
Dutch lets out a quick bark as if agreeing with me, and I cringe. Under no circumstances can we have even an iota of bad luck tonight. Hopefully, I spent it all this morning.
Carlotta’s cryptic words come back to haunt me. It supernaturally compounds itself.
“Doubles night.” The perky blonde wiggles her shoulders. “I’m in like sin.” She doesn’t waste a moment before running her greedy little hands all over Everett’s rock-hard, steely chest.
“Whoa, sweet stuff,” I say, plucking Everett from her cotton candy grasp and pulling him to myself. “This big boy is all mine, and if you want to take a bite out of him, you’ll need to get through me first.”
Her glittery fuchsia lips round out. “I get it. It’s you who wants my attention.” Her hot pink claw-like nails graze over my chest, and Everett pulls me in close.
“She’s mine.”
Crap. I’m pretty sure we’re defying the entire purpose of our visit.
He clears his throat. “You’ll have to excuse her. She’s usually much better at sharing. But there was a murder at a party she was at about a week ago and she’s been a little evasive. And that’s exactly why we’ve come to you for help.”
Ooh. I think Everett just knocked the inadvertent double entendre right out of the park. I give his waist a quick squeeze as if to say nice save.
“Oh my”—she presses those hot pink claws to her chest—“you were there? I heard the poor girl was laid out in the snow with an icicle in her neck!”
Murder in the Mix (Books 4-6) Page 38
