Sinfully Delicious

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I’m not being defensive.” Hunter lowered his voice. “You’re the one acting like a big baby. Stormy and I had a relationship a million years ago. We were teenagers, for crying out loud. There’s nothing going on now.”

  “I would love to believe that.”

  “Believe it. It’s true.”

  “Except that everyone in this town has a story about you and her,” Monica fired back. “It was hard enough to listen to them when she wasn’t sitting directly in front of me with her stupid pale hair and those big blue eyes. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, because I’ve heard it at least thirty times since we started dating, says they were certain you two would end up together.

  “Her mother approached me at that festival in Hemlock Cove three weeks ago and said she was crushed to see us together because she always wanted you for her daughter,” she continued, making me frown. “You laughed like it was some inside joke and didn’t tell her that was never going to happen.”

  “There was no reason to tell her,” Hunter fired back. “She knows Stormy and I didn’t work out. She knows why things fell apart. The only one who doesn’t seem to understand is you.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s true.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.” Hunter sounded less than sympathetic. “These are my friends. I like hanging out with my friends.”

  “Does that include Stormy? That’s a stupid name, by the way. Why would anyone name their kid that?”

  “One of the Kardashians named a kid that and you were fine with it. You think the sun rises and sets on what they do. You’ve made me watch that stupid show a hundred times.”

  “First, the Kardashians are entrepreneurs,” Monica snapped. “They’re smart women who have launched so many successful businesses I’ve lost count.”

  She was a Kardashians fan. Obviously she was evil.

  “Second, what does that have to do with anything?” she continued. “You never sat through more than two episodes no matter how much I begged.”

  “That’s because the show is stupid,” Hunter muttered glumly.

  “And yet you watch fishing shows.”

  “I like fishing. I don’t like the Kardashians.”

  “Ugh.” Monica let loose a short scream of frustration. “I don’t understand why we’re standing in the middle of a field fighting. I’m over this ... and I’m leaving. You’re walking me home whether you like it or not. That’s what a gentleman does.”

  Hunter muttered something under his breath but didn’t offer further resistance. I waited another thirty seconds and then pushed my way through the bushes. I expected to find the spot they’d been standing empty. Instead, I came face to face with my ex ... and he didn’t look happy.

  “Oh, um, I was just finishing up,” I offered lamely, grateful it was too dark for him to see the color climbing my cheeks.

  He didn’t say anything for what felt like a really long time. I was certain he was going to call me out for eavesdropping. Instead, he merely shook his head and let loose a long sigh. “Are you okay?”

  “Compared to what? I didn’t pee on my jeans, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I was going for levity. It fell flat.

  “I mean are you okay to walk home? You haven’t been in these woods for a long time. Sebastian is right. You’re likely to get lost if you try finding your way back yourself.”

  “I’m okay,” I reassured him. “Don’t worry about me.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  For a moment, he looked so lost that all I wanted to do was comfort him. Then Monica decided to screech from the trail.

  “I’m waiting, Hunter!”

  I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing at the morose look that crossed his features. “I think your girlfriend wants you,” I said finally.

  “Yeah, well ... .”

  It would’ve been smart to keep my mouth shut at this juncture, but that had never been my strong suit. “She’s lovely, by the way. I hate her.”

  Instead of being offended, he mustered the first real grin I’d seen since I stumbled across his group. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  SEBASTIAN INSISTED ON WALKING ME home. I didn’t feel it was necessary and took the lead. He had to correct my course twice, so I was secretly thankful for the assist. I could never admit that out loud, though.

  “Tell me about Monica,” I instructed when we were about ten minutes from the restaurant. Sebastian had kept up a steady stream of gossip since we’d set out, telling me about everyone we went to high school with, whether I wanted to hear or not. This was my first chance to get the real dirt on Hunter’s disagreeable girlfriend.

  Sebastian’s eyes gleamed with interest under the moonlight. “What do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you want to tell me.”

  He wagged a finger and made a tsking sound with his tongue. “No, no, no. That’s not how this works.”

  “You’re not going to gossip about Monica?” I was keenly disappointed. “You’ve gossiped about everyone else. This is a letdown.”

  He snorted. “Oh, I have plenty of gossip about her. I just want you to admit why you’re really interested.”

  “I like gossip.”

  “That’s not why.”

  “It is.”

  He shook his head and pinned me with a probing look. “Just admit why you’re interested and I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  I knew what he was asking but there was no way I could admit it. “I already know she hangs out with Phoebe Green,” I said. “That means she’s basically the Devil. I don’t need your dirt. I already have my own.”

  He laughed, delighted, and slung his arm around my shoulders. “You always were a stubborn little thing,” he lamented. “Just for the record, I know why you’re curious about her. If you’re worried, don’t be. It’s not as if she and Hunter will last for the long haul. Frankly, I’m surprised they’re still together. I thought she was a goner about three weeks ago, but they’re surprisingly resilient for a temporary couple.”

  “Maybe it’s true love and they just hit a momentary rough patch.”

  “It’s not true love. As for the rough patch? The whole relationship has been a rough patch as far as I can tell. Hunter has never really been all that into her.”

  “Then why are they still together?”

  His smirk was back. “Do you know what happened three weeks ago?”

  I was at a loss. “The town got together and pitched a Taco Bell to the Downtown Development Authority? You have no idea how much I miss Taco Bell. That would be a lifesaver.”

  He smirked. “We ran into Alice at the bank. We both happened to be there at the same time and got to talking, as we always do. Then your cousin came in and made an announcement that changed the entire conversation.”

  I had a sinking suspicion I knew what announcement was. “Oh, yeah? It’s a nice night, huh?”

  His grin only widened. “She told us you were coming back to town, and not just for a visit. All Hunter’s bold talk about dumping Monica flew out the window after that. He’s been putting up with some outrageous crap from her ever since. I think we both know why.”

  “She’s pretty.”

  “That’s not why.” Sebastian let loose a long sigh. “Listen, I’m not going to poke my nose into your business ... .”

  “Yes, you are.”

  He laughed, the sound warm and friendly. “Fine. I will stick my nose into your business. I don’t think it’ll matter. You two will find your way back to each other. It’s written in the stars.”

  “Oh, geez.” I rolled my eyes. “That is the schmaltziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “And yet it’s the truth.” He turned serious. “You guys might’ve been suffering from a severe case of puppy love as kids, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the real deal. I don’t think anyone who ever saw you together doubted what you felt for each other.”

/>   “We were still kids.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Some things are meant to be. I believe you and Hunter are one of those things.”

  My heart skipped, and then steadied. “It’s sweet that you’re still a romantic, but Hunter has been cold. He made sure I knew about his girlfriend earlier this afternoon. He isn’t interested in me.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “I will because it’s the truth.”

  “I’ve got twenty bucks that says you’re wrong.”

  “It’s a bet.”

  “I’m going to win.”

  “No, I’m going to win.”

  “Honey, you can’t even find your way home from the woods. You’re so lost you don’t know up from down right now. That’s all going to smooth out now that you’re home ... and Hunter is going to be part of it. Mark my words. I’m totally going to win.”

  I was too tired to argue. “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  9

  Nine

  My dreams were dark.

  I couldn’t see anything, and yet I could hear voices.

  There was laughter ... and whispers ... and something akin to cackling. The voices weren’t altogether unfriendly, but they were disturbing all the same.

  I heard talk of wine, a solstice celebration — and there was something about inappropriate leggings. It made no sense.

  It wasn’t exactly a nightmare. It wasn’t exactly comfortable either.

  The good part was that I knew it was a dream. The bad part was that I was having trouble forcing myself to wake up.

  When I did manage to wrench open an eye, I found the most peculiar sight. There was nothing but white surrounding me.

  “What the ... ?” Instinctively, I stuck out my hands, expecting to push the sheets off my head. Instead of colliding with fabric, though, my hands hit something hard.

  I panicked and began to squirm, shoving with all my might against the hard surface directly above my face ... and pushing myself down. That shouldn’t have been possible because I went to sleep in my bed. There should be no down, and yet there was.

  It took tremendous effort, but I managed to push off hard enough to flip over. What I found defied explanation. I was floating a good three feet over my bed and the hard surface I’d woken to was the ceiling.

  My eyes widened so far I thought they might pop out of my head. I struggled to find my voice, but the terror flowing through me was too much. I couldn’t manage even a squeak to prove I hadn’t developed laryngitis during the night. I don’t know who I would have called for. It was early. If I screamed, the only people who might hear me were in the restaurant below — and how would I explain it to them?

  I tried swimming back to the bed. No joke. It was a modified doggy paddle of sorts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t aim and found myself swimming all over the bedroom.

  “What is happening?” When I finally found my voice, it was to ask the most inane question imaginable — and still there was nobody there to answer.

  Through sheer force of will, I managed to swim back to the spot above my bed and aimed my attention at the mattress. I wanted a soft landing if I fell, and that’s what happened when I heard a voice. It was deep, gravelly, and full of annoyance.

  A shot of terror coursed through me as I jerked my head, and that was when I finally landed with a thump, bouncing on the bed with enough force that the headboard rattled against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” Grandpa poked his head inside my bedroom without knocking.

  I was so glad to be on solid ground that I didn’t bother admonishing him. “I ... what?” I stammered as I blew my hair out of my eyes. I could only imagine how I looked.

  “Are you hungover again?” His eyes were speculative as they looked me over.

  “Of course not.” That seemed like the right answer, though it wasn’t really true. I was most definitely hungover. My throbbing head was proof of that. The weird dream — and it had to be a dream, because there was no other explanation — took precedence over everything else. “Why would you ask that?”

  “You look like you’re hungover.”

  I made a face and combed my fingers through my hair. “How would you know?”

  “Please.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve raised five children and ... however many grandchildren.”

  I seized onto the only part of the statement that was likely to derail him. “You don’t know how many grandchildren you have?”

  “Too many.” He pursed his lips. “Were you out with Hunter?”

  I wanted to scream. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because you look ... different. You have a glow about you.”

  That’s because I dreamt of floating over my bed and decided to do the dog paddle until I woke up. Relating that to him would probably only make me look worse.

  “If you must know, I was with Sebastian Donovan last night. He walked me home.”

  Grandpa continued to stare.

  “Aren’t you going to give me grief for being out late with a man?” I challenged. “Where’s all the ‘Did you do something dirty’ talk now?”

  He shook his head. “You can hang out with that man as late as you want. Nobody will give you grief about it.”

  I frowned. “And why is that?”

  “You know.”

  I waited, expecting him to say something derogatory. When he didn’t, I looked at him in a new light. “Well, thank you for not saying anything nasty.”

  “Why would I say something nasty?”

  “You’re not known for holding your tongue on certain subjects.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “That boy, though ... he’s been through enough. He’s harmless, and he’s always been a good customer. I think it’s good that you’re hanging around with him. It’s better than being alone.”

  Grandfather could always take me by surprise, no matter how old I was. “Well ... great. I think we’ll be spending a lot of time together, so that will be good.”

  “Uh-huh.” Grandpa shook his head and moved to the door. “Get up. You’re running late for work.”

  That couldn’t be right. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, cringing when I realized he was right. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I can be ready for work in fifteen minutes.”

  “You should’ve been ready for work fifteen minutes ago,” he pointed out.

  “I overslept.” In the annals of lame excuses, that was right at the top.

  “You might not oversleep if you went to bed at a reasonable hour — and stopped drinking when you have to work the next day. I know you’re going through a lot and have yet to come to grips with the way your life trajectory has changed, but you have to get it together. I’m willing to help you, but you have to be willing to help yourself.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’ve got it. There’s no need to be a pain.”

  “Then don’t be late for work again. That’s the one thing I can’t stand.”

  I already knew that. Oddly enough, he was lax on most rules. He was a stickler about washing our hands after using the restroom and showing up on time, but other than that he was pretty easygoing.

  “I’m sorry.” I meant it. “It won’t happen again. I just ... it was a weird night.”

  Grandpa arched an eyebrow. “Hunter?”

  I couldn’t swallow the growl that escaped. “Will you stop asking that? He’s not the be all and end all of my world.”

  “If you say so.” Grandpa was blasé as he moved through the door. “You have twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Then you have to take breakfast to David. He’s running the gas station today.”

  I frowned. “You know I hate the gas station. We agreed when I came to work for you that I wasn’t doing shifts in the gas station.”

  “We did agree on that.” He nodded perfunctorily, but I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes. “We also agreed you would be on time. Your punishment for being late on your thir
d day is to keep your cousin fed all day while he does the job you hate.”

  Ugh. Family. This is how it always went. “Fine.” I threw my hands in the air. “I’ll wait on David hand and foot today. I guess it’s better than listening to Uncle Brad’s conspiracy theories.”

  “Oh, you’ll be doing that, too.” Grandpa’s smile spread so wide it threatened to swallow the bottom half of his face. “He watched a new documentary last night about how alien abductions and global warming were conceived by the same cabal to discredit certain politicians and he’s ready and raring to go. He called me before I went to bed last night to tell me. Do you know what I told him?”

  I didn’t want to know. “I’m sure it was lovely.”

  “I told him that you believed in alien abductions. He’s looking forward to a lively day of debate.”

  I narrowed my eyes until they were nothing more than slits. “I hate you sometimes.”

  “That’s what grandfathers are for. Now get moving. If you’re late, I’ll make you wash windshields during your breaks.”

  I pushed myself out of bed and raced to the bathroom. “Fifteen minutes. Time me.”

  THE MORNING SHIFT WAS ESPECIALLY brutal. It seemed every Shadow Hills denizen decided today was the day to have breakfast at the diner. Between waiting tables and running trays of food out to David — who lorded it over me that I was his servant for the day every time we were face to face — I was exhausted by the time the midmorning lull came around.

  “Have some coffee,” Grandpa suggested as I leaned against the counter and watched him eat his second breakfast. He was like a hobbit. He had eight meals a day.

  I frowned as I stared at the concoction on his plate. “Is that quiche?”

  “Of course not. Like I eat quiche.”

  “It looks like quiche.”

  “It’s eggs, onions, and tomatoes all mixed together.”

  “Like an omelet?”

  “If it was an omelet, I would’ve said it was an omelet.”

  And I thought I was the crabby one today. “Fine. It’s not an omelet.” I held up my hands in mock surrender. “What’s wrong with you?”