Sinfully Delicious

by Amanda M. Lee

  No one responded. No one was there. That only served to weird me out further.

  “Screw this,” I muttered, picking up my pace and scurrying toward the far end of the cemetery. I wanted out of there. In fact, I couldn’t move fast enough to escape the fear rushing through me. I kept glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone was giving chase. That would’ve been a welcome development. The more distance I traveled without seeing anyone, the more unsettled I felt.

  I was three-quarters of the way across the cemetery when the sky opened up. It had been sunny only an hour before. Now it was overcast and pouring.

  “Great,” I growled as I put my head down. I would be soaked by the time I got back to the restaurant.

  I didn’t regain my composure until I hit the sidewalk on the other side of the cemetery. My heart was still pounding. Now I just had to walk a mile in the rain to get home.

  A truck pulled to a stop next to me. I didn’t bother looking up. I knew better than to get inside a vehicle with a stranger. I was better off walking in the deluge.

  “Stormy, what are you doing?”

  I recognized Hunter’s voice and jerked up my chin, my eyes going wide when I found him sitting in the cab of his truck, an exasperated look on his face. If that wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t alone. Monica was with him — and she didn’t look happy.

  “I was at Sebastian’s place,” I offered. “It didn’t start raining until I was already heading back.”

  “And you’re just going to walk home in this?” He looked exasperated.

  “I don’t have much of a choice. I’m already wet.”

  He let loose a low growl. “Get in the truck.”

  One glance at Monica told me that was the exact opposite of what she wanted. “I’m good.”

  “Get in the truck,” he repeated.

  “Um ... really, it’s fine. I’m already wet. It’s not cold out. It’s just rain. I’ll survive.”

  As if on cue, a low rumble of thunder filled the air and a flash of lighting illuminated the sky.

  “Get in the truck,” Hunter ordered, his tone no-nonsense.

  “You heard her, Hunter,” Monica argued. “She’s fine walking. It’s not that far.”

  “A big thunderstorm is coming,” Hunter shot back. “She’s not walking back to the restaurant in it. That’s, like, a mile. She could be struck by lightning.”

  Monica wasn’t about to back down. “Do you know the odds of that?”

  Hunter held her gaze for a long moment and then focused on me. “Get in the truck, Stormy. If I have to wrestle you in the entire town will be talking. Do you want that?”

  Part of me did because I knew it would agitate Monica. The other part, though, recognized it would be bad for all of us if the Shadow Hills rumor mill kicked into overdrive.

  I scuffed my foot against the pavement as I trudged to the backseat door. “I really would be fine.”

  “Get in the truck!” He was beside himself.

  I was soaked when I hopped in, water dripping from my drenched hair. I hadn’t bothered with makeup this morning, a small favor because any mascara or eyeliner would be spreading down my cheeks.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” Hunter ordered.

  I did as I was told. Now that I was in his truck, I wanted this ride to be over as quickly as possible.

  For her part, Monica looked as if she was about to go nuclear. Still, she plastered a smile on her face. It was more horror movie than romantic comedy. “So ... you were hanging out with Sebastian?” she prodded as Hunter pulled back into traffic.

  I nodded. “Yeah. I sat in on his meeting with Vera Axe. She picked out the things she thought Roy would hate the most for his funeral.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Hunter said, his eyes on the road in front of him. The rain was coming down so hard he had to reduce his speed. “They didn’t have the best of marriages.”

  “No,” I agreed. “The way Sebastian made it sound, Roy didn’t have a single friend in town. Is that true?”

  “I don’t think it’s much of an exaggeration. Roy had one of those personalities that everybody hated. He couldn’t seem to adjust his attitude and make friends.”

  I swiped at the water on my forehead. “Did you manage to track down Grandpa?”

  Hunter scowled. “No. He conveniently disappeared right before I showed up. Your uncle Brad seemed confused when he went looking for him.”

  No surprise there. “Did you tell Brad you were going to visit Grandpa?”

  “I called the gas station to see who was working. Brad was there. Why?”

  I heaved out a sigh. “Next time you might want to show up unannounced and go through the back door.”

  “Why?”

  “I think that might be the only way you’re going to get your man.”

  “I’ll take it under consideration. Thanks for the tip.”

  “No problem.”

  We lapsed into uncomfortable silence. Monica broke it as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “Have you considered going on Tinder to look for a date?” she asked, fixing me with a pointed look. “A girl like you would be very popular. Not now, with your hair looking like this, but otherwise.”

  I had no idea what to say. I decided to steal a line from Hunter and make my escape. “I’ll take it under advisement. Thanks for the ride. I really appreciate it.”

  12

  Twelve

  I thought the ride was going to be the worst part of my day. But that happened when Hunter moved to exit the vehicle with me.

  “What are you doing?” Monica asked, her tone accusatory.

  “Walking Stormy inside,” he replied blandly. “I’ll be right back.”

  “But ... .”

  He ignored her and focused his gaze on me. “Come on.”

  I felt like an idiot climbing out of the truck. I knew I should probably say something to Monica. “So ... um ... it was nice seeing you again.” I offered her a bright smile that was all false light and delight.

  She glared at me. “You should really take better care of yourself so others aren’t forced to do it.”

  I pursed my lips. “I would’ve been fine walking,” I said at the moment a bolt of lightning split the sky. The thunder followed so quickly I jolted. “Totally fine.”

  “Come on, Stormy,” Hunter barked, making me realize he was as uncomfortable with this interlude as me.

  “Right.” I slammed the door shut and dragged my feet to the front of the truck, where he was waiting as the rain pelted down. “You really didn’t have to pick me up. It’s my own fault for not realizing a storm was coming.”

  “It would be helpful if you watched a weather report,” he agreed, moving toward the door. He smiled as he held it open for me. “You always did like walking in the rain, though.”

  A burst of warmth washed over me. I knew what memory he was tugging on. It involved him, me, linked hands and huge mud puddles. We were filthy and flirty by the time we were finished. “This was a little more than a rainstorm. I really appreciate the ride.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I don’t think Monica believes it’s okay.”

  “She’s just ... .”

  “Unhappy with life?” I suggested when he didn’t finish. I expected him to argue, but he simply nodded.

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” He followed me inside, our bodies brushing against one another when I had to pull up short to avoid a customer checking out at the register. One of my cousins was handling the task and the look she shot me was priceless.

  “What happened to you?” she exclaimed. “Did you already tick off Hunter so much that he tried to drown you in a puddle?”

  “I’m saving that for next week,” Hunter quipped, his eyes steady as they scanned the restaurant. “Is your grandfather here?”

  That’s when it hit me. “You didn’t pick me up out of the goodness of your heart. You just wanted a reason to look for Grandpa.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud — really, what w
as the point? — but the look Hunter pinned me with made me wish I’d kept my big, fat mouth shut.

  “I picked you up because it wasn’t safe for you to be walking in the storm,” he shot back.

  “Yeah, but you walked me inside for Grandpa.”

  “Does it matter?” He furrowed his brow. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t take advantage of the situation?”

  The question, reasonable on the surface, grated. “Whatever.” I shook my hair, internally smirking when some of the water hit him directly in the face. “I’m going upstairs to get cleaned up ... unless you need something else, that is.”

  “Can you check the back for your grandfather for me?”

  He had a pair on him. I couldn’t believe he’d asked given my current state. “Sure. No problem.” I stomped toward the kitchen, throwing open the swinging door and poking my head. “Is Grandpa here? The fuzz is looking for him.”

  From behind the grill, Brad lifted his chin. “He took off for his afternoon constitutional about forty minutes ago.”

  I frowned. That probably meant he was up contaminating my bathroom. Hunter didn’t need to know that. “Thanks.” I turned back to my ex and held out my hands. “Sorry. He appears to be absent.”

  “Where does he take his afternoon constitutional?” Hunter challenged. Apparently he still had super hearing or something. I would have thought the exhaust fan and the other noises in the kitchen would’ve drowned out Brad’s response.

  “All manner of places,” I replied. “Wherever he can take a newspaper and disappear for an hour — he really should eat more fiber — that’s where you’ll find him.”

  Hunter didn’t look amused. “Does he go home?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And other times?”

  “You’ll really have to ask him. This is one aspect of my grandfather’s life I want no part in.”

  He held my gaze for a measured moment and then shook his head. “Just tell him I’m looking for him.”

  “I believe that’s the standard message I convey to him these days,” I said dryly. “Is there anything else?”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to say something important. The expression that crossed his face was enough to tug on my heartstrings. Ultimately, though, he shook his head. “Watch the rain, Stormy,” he said as he moved toward the door. “You need to take care of yourself.”

  He echoed the sentiment his girlfriend had tossed in my direction only minutes before. “I can take care of myself, Hunter. You don’t have to worry yourself acting as my protector. Not anymore.”

  “You always could take care of yourself. That doesn’t mean you always have to.” He turned back, his eyes lit with an emotion I couldn’t quite identify. “That’s always been your problem. It doesn’t always have to be you against the world.”

  I was taken aback by his vehemence, and when I risked a glance at my cousin, I found her eyes wide as she watched with rapt attention. “It feels like it is me against the world,” I said. “Always.”

  “Well, you need to get over it. Just ... get over yourself. People want to help. Let them.” He looked beyond frustrated as he swung back toward the exit. “Tell your grandfather I’m looking for him,” he said to my cousin. “I won’t give up until we have a long conversation.”

  “Okay.” My cousin was solemn as she nodded.

  ANNOYED WHEN I HIT MY apartment, the feeling grew exponentially when I heard noise in the hallway. I knew who it was without looking.

  “You know, I’m going to have the locks changed so you can’t hide up here whenever the mood strikes,” I announced as I stalked toward my bedroom. “You can’t just wander in here whenever you want. This is private property.”

  Grandpa was blasé as he emerged from the bathroom, newspaper clutched in hand. “It is private property. My private property. I own it.”

  “Yeah, but I’m ... leasing it.”

  “Really?” He hiked an eyebrow. “I don’t remember signing a lease. Maybe I’m growing forgetful in my old age. I thought we just agreed you would pay me a couple hundred bucks a month until you were back on your feet, and then we’d figure something out going forward.”

  He sounded reasonable, which I absolutely hated. “Whatever.” I charged into my bedroom, shutting the door so I could change my clothes. I expected him to be gone when I emerged, but I wasn’t that lucky. Instead, I found him sitting on my couch staring at the painting his mother had finished. “Why are you still here?”

  “You looked like you needed to talk,” he replied, his gaze drifting to me. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Oh, there were so many ways I could answer that question. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”

  “Because you’re a mouthy pain in the behind. I have a lot of grandchildren. I also had four teenagers in the house at one time. I know about being mouthy. You’re taking it to a personal level.”

  I flopped onto the couch next to him. “You really have no idea how many grandchildren you have, do you?”

  “You guys multiply like rabbits.”

  “You could do the math and commit the number to memory so you’re not always grasping.”

  “What fun is that?”

  He was right. I was in a foul mood, but it had nothing to do with him. “I got caught in the rain. Hunter picked me up and drove me back here.”

  “That hardly sounds like the end of the world.”

  “His girlfriend was with him.”

  “Ah.” Grandpa nodded knowingly. “I take it you two aren’t going to be fast friends.”

  “We’re not going to be slow friends either. She’s ... mean.” It was a stupid word. I was an adult, for crying out loud. Only middle-schoolers used that word to describe a nemesis. If I’d used the word I really wanted to throw out there, Grandpa might try to wrestle me down and wash my mouth out with soap.

  “Mean, huh?” He chuckled, amused by my obvious discomfort. “Dolly, do you know what your problem is?”

  One of these days I was going to shove that question right back down his throat and make him choke. “I’m pretty sure it’s Monica ... and Hunter ... and the fact that I own five pairs of pants and now one of them won’t dry out for days.”

  “I’ve already told you that you can use the washer and dryer at our house.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “No, the point is that you feel like sitting around and pouting. I can’t help you there.” He stood with a grunt. He was a big guy. Eight meals a day had done him no favors. “When you’re in the mood to talk like an adult, you know where I am.”

  “I’m not pouting.” I was sixty-five percent sure that was true. “I’m just ... taking stock of my life.”

  “Well, try doing it with a better attitude. If you keep up like this, you’ll be bitter. I have two bitter sisters. I know what you’ll find at the end of that road, and it isn’t pretty.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  He smirked. “You do that.” He hesitated at the door that led downstairs. “Hunter’s gone, right?”

  I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “How long do you think you’re going to be able to hide from him?”

  “I’m not hiding. That’s a ridiculous statement.”

  He was never going to own up to his actions. Not on this one. I was too tired to press him, though. “He’s gone. Trust me. His girlfriend isn’t the type to sit in the parking lot and stake it out. You can escape.”

  “I’m not escaping. I just ... don’t like cops.”

  That was news to me. “You should probably take advantage of this window and run.”

  “It’s the end of my shift. I’m going home. It has nothing to do with Hunter.”

  I didn’t believe him. “Have a good rest of your day.”

  “You too. Don’t be late for work tomorrow.”

  “I won’t.” I’d learned my lesson. I had no intention of leaving my apartment tonight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be the
one with the coffee.”

  I SPENT THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON reading and lazing about. In the city, I always felt as if I couldn’t find enough hours in the day to get everything done. Here, back home, I had time to just sit and think. Self-reflection was allowed, though it wasn’t how I wanted to spend my time.

  I moved my pity party to the balcony. The restaurant had closed two hours earlier and it was eerily silent as I stared at the trees behind the storage building. The darkness allowed me to think about the events of the past few days ... and it wasn’t a pleasant reverie.

  My biggest issue was the dream this morning. No matter how I tried to shake it, there was a worry in the back of my mind that it had really happened. It was ridiculous, of course. I hadn’t been floating over my bed. I most certainly hadn’t been swimming through the air like the world’s most uncoordinated fairy. It had to be a dream.

  A very realistic dream.

  Whispers of magical powers weren’t uncommon in this area. Given the trick Hemlock Cove had managed to pull off — seriously, their rebranding efforts had the town thriving when others in the area were dying — it was a common topic of conversation. My great-grandmother decided on the name for the restaurant. There were numerous stories as to why she chose the name, some so wild there was no way they could be true.

  My great-grandfather was a milquetoast. I would never come out and say that to my grandfather, but all the stories painted him as a bland man who sat back and let his wife have her way. My great-grandmother, on the other hand, was a spitfire. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and didn’t care if society at the time believed men should be in charge. She was in charge, and no one could tell her otherwise.

  She’d named the restaurant long before Hemlock Cove turned to a witch theme to keep commerce humming. In fact, she’d left the area long before the rebranding talk even started. When she returned to town every summer — I made a mental note to check when her visit would happen this year — she always headed to Hemlock Cove for a day or two. She still had friends there, and even rented a room in a bed and breakfast where one of those friends resided.