Sinfully Delicious

by Amanda M. Lee

  The fact that he remembered that seemed a small miracle. Now that he brought it up, though, I did remember the man. “He was, like, the world’s worst coach. He was barely there.”

  “He only did it because his daughter was on the team and he was going through a divorce,” Hunter explained. “He wanted to look like an involved parent, and that was the only way he could think to do it.”

  “Stephanie Buttons is his daughter.”

  “She is. She doesn’t live here any longer. She moved to Traverse City about two years after we graduated. Last I heard, she was married and had three kids. Her brother is still around. He’s as much a loser as the father. Stephanie is the only decent one in that family.”

  I pursed my lips. “I remember her being nice.”

  “She was. Him, though ... .” Hunter made a tsking sound and shook his head. “He’s the worst of the worst.”

  I racked my brain trying to remember tidbits about Barry. “He’s an attorney.”

  “He is.”

  “Why would Vera need an attorney?” My mind was racing now. “You don’t think that she’s worried she’ll be arrested?” I knew I was grasping, but the unsettling feeling from the night before had stuck with me through the morning. I couldn’t help wondering if it would disappear once Shadow Hills’ one and only murderer was behind bars. If that was Vera, so be it.

  “He’s not that sort of attorney,” Hunter replied, stroking his chin, thoughtful.

  I watched him, enjoying the intense look on his face. He was always the sort who enjoyed gnawing on a problem until there was nothing left but masticated bones ... and a solution.

  “What kind of attorney is he?” I asked when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to expand on the earlier statement.

  “He’s a divorce attorney.”

  That was enough to knock me back a step. “Wait ... why would Vera need a divorce attorney? Her husband is dead.”

  “That is a very interesting question.”

  I was silent for a moment, myriad possibilities flooding my mind. “Do you think she was considering divorcing Roy before he was killed?”

  “If she was, she conveniently left that out during our initial interview.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “I don’t know.” Slowly, he let his eyes drift back to me. “It’s interesting, though.”

  “I guess.” I didn’t know what response he was expecting. “Are you going over there?”

  “For now I’m just going to watch. We’ll see how things progress.”

  14

  Fourteen

  “They’re arguing about money,” I announced when I came back to Hunter for the fifth time. He’d long since finished his breakfast, but we’d turned our spying into a game of sorts. He couldn’t approach Vera and her attorney. But I could continue topping off their coffee and they barely paid me any attention.

  “What kind of money?” he asked.

  “American money. How should I know?”

  The look he shot me was withering. “You are ... so much work.” He flicked me between the eyebrows, causing me to glare. It was something he did to irritate me when we were teenagers. “What are they arguing about in regard to money?”

  I should’ve known that’s what he was asking. I was having too good a time to cut it short. “They’re talking about selling the house and how much she can get for it.”

  Hunter turned pensive. “She wants to sell her house?”

  “That’s what it sounds like. He’s telling her it’s a mistake because she won’t get very much for it and she has bills to pay.”

  “Did he say what bills?”

  “No, and I didn’t ask. Why is that important?”

  “I don’t know that it is important.” He rubbed his strong chin. “It doesn’t make sense for Vera to move from this area. Her house is paid for. The cost of living is low. She’ll inherit everything from Roy’s estate.”

  “Unless there is no estate.”

  “How can he not have an estate? He’s been working his entire adult life. He should’ve been socking money away all that time.”

  “Not everybody starts planning for their retirement when they’re sixteen,” I teased, remembering back to the things he told me about the shoebox of money he was hiding in his basement when we were teenagers.

  “Hey, I want to make sure my golden years are spent on sunny beaches.”

  “So you’re surrounded by girls in bikinis?”

  “So ... I can rest.” He took on a far-off expression for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m curious about why Vera would make the decision to pack up and move out of the blue. This is her home.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t know what was going on between her and Roy,” I pointed out. “Maybe she never wanted to stay here. Maybe he made the decision to stay. It’s possible she’s always wanted to live somewhere else.”

  “Like you.”

  It was a pointed statement, and it made me feel uncomfortable. “Like me,” I conceded. “I always thought that I wanted to live in the city. Don’t get me wrong, the city appeals to me on a certain level, but the older I get, the more I realize that there’s more to picking a place to settle down than being able to go to a midnight movie screening.”

  His smiled. “That was one of your big complaints back in the day. You wanted to be able to see blockbusters at a place that had more than one screen. Was it everything you hoped for?”

  I shrugged. “Sometimes. I guess I wish I had someone to go to the movies with. I don’t dislike seeing a movie alone, but we used to dissect the movies we saw together. I would do it from a narrative perspective and you would make fun of the action scenes. It’s not as much fun when you don’t have someone to talk with after.”

  His gaze was serious. “Are you staying?”

  The way his demeanor shifted told me he hadn’t meant to blurt out the question. It was right there, though, and I couldn’t ignore it.

  “I don’t know. I didn’t think so when I first came back, but ... I’m starting to wonder.”

  “About what?” His full attention was on me now. He didn’t as much as glance in Vera’s direction.

  “About everything. The other day, when I was walking along the river, I forgot how much I missed it. I didn’t let myself think about things like that when I was away, because ... I don’t know ... it made me sad.

  “I mean, there I was, doing what I was supposed to be doing but nothing felt right,” I continued. “I want to write books. That hasn’t changed. I’m starting to think the life I convinced myself I needed wasn’t the one I really needed. I spent all of my teen years dying to get out of this place.”

  “And now?”

  “Now I can’t seem to remember why.”

  “Yeah.” Sadness permeated his taut features.

  “My grandfather suggested that I’ve been trying to force myself to live a certain way because that’s what I thought I wanted and it would be a disappointment if I turned out to be wrong. You know how I feel about being wrong.”

  He smirked. “And what do you think?”

  “I think ... I think ... .” I wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” he said finally. “It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s not that. I just ... don’t know. I think that I keep freaking myself out over ridiculous stuff and can’t seem to stop myself. Last night I rescued a kitten from the alley and I was certain there was someone watching me, even though I’m pretty sure I would’ve seen someone if they were really there. I spent a half hour sitting in the dark by the sliding glass doors, convinced someone was out there.”

  He frowned. “If you were afraid, why didn’t you call me?”

  That was a ridiculous suggestion. “Um ... I’m pretty sure your girlfriend would have a fit if I started calling in the middle of the night.”

  “She wasn’t with me.” He placed his hand on mine. “If you’re afraid, call for help. You don’t have to do e
verything alone. I don’t understand why you can’t see that.”

  The second his hand touched mine a jolt of energy coursed through me. He felt it, too. I could tell by the way his mouth twitched. This time he didn’t remove his hand.

  “I imagined it,” I reassured him, my mind immediately going to the other part of the conversation. Why wasn’t he with Monica? They were obviously dating, and had been for at least several months. Were they not spending nights together?

  “I don’t care.” Hunter was firm. “If you’re afraid, call.”

  “Call you?”

  “Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “I’m a police officer. It’s my job to keep the population safe.”

  That wasn’t the answer I wanted, but it made sense. “Well ... .” Slowly, I withdrew my hand. Being in close proximity to him caused me to lose my head. He cleared his throat, perhaps feeling the same way, and turned back to Vera. “I wish I knew what was going on with them.”

  “Is there a way to find out?”

  He shrugged. “Not that I can think of. I could go over there, but it’s not as if they’re going to volunteer information to a cop.”

  I tugged on my ear, considering. “What about Barry’s son? He was, like, a year older than us.”

  Hunter’s expression turned dark. “Bobby.”

  “Bobby Buttons.” I laughed at the name.

  “Are you seven?” He was giving me a hard time, but I liked the way his lips curved.

  “It’s a stupid name,” I protested.

  “It is a stupid name, and he’s an annoying guy.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that he still lives in high school. He still pretends who was popular back then matters. He still wears his letterman’s jacket.”

  “You were a popular guy,” I reminded him.

  “Yes, but I don’t still wear my letterman’s jacket.”

  “That’s because you don’t have it.”

  “I ... .” He trailed off. “I forgot. You had it when we broke up.”

  “And you never got it back. I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It’s not like it’s the end of the world. Once you’re out of high school, a letterman’s jacket is pretty useless.”

  “Yeah, but it was yours.”

  “I don’t care.” He flashed a smile that didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “Of all the things I lost that day, the letterman’s jacket ranks dead last on the list of things that matter.”

  My heart constricted. “I ... .”

  He barreled forward before I could say something stupid, which was for the best. “As for Bobby, he still hangs around at the high school, playing basketball in the afternoons.”

  “Seriously?” My eyebrows migrated north. “Who does he play with?”

  “Other guys who can’t let go of high school. Why do you care about Bobby?”

  “I’m just thinking that Bobby might be able to shed some light on his father’s relationship with Vera. If I remember correctly, Barry never could keep his mouth shut. If anybody knows the intricate details of their relationship, it’s likely to be Bobby, because his dad told him.”

  “Maybe.” Hunter turned thoughtful. “It’s something to consider.”

  He flicked his eyes to the clock on the wall and straightened. “Geez. I didn’t realize it was so late. I need to get going.”

  “Hot date?”

  “Work. What about you?”

  “I definitely don’t have a hot date. Other than Sebastian, I’ve been spending all my time with my grandfather.”

  “Who keeps avoiding me. I can’t figure out how he’s dodging me.”

  I had a few ideas ... and I was related to all of them. “I’ll tell him you stopped by again.”

  “For all the good that it will do.”

  I SHOWERED AND CHANGED CLOTHES after my shift. The kitten was passed out on my bed and I told myself I didn’t want to wake him just to take him to the shelter. I figured that could wait, as long as I got some food to last through the night. Part of me knew I was playing a risky game by keeping him longer than necessary. The other part wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  Hunter’s tidbit about Bobby playing basketball at the high school had me heading there. It seemed odd that grown men — we’re talking men pushing thirty — would still be hanging out at the school. Pickup games were a thing when we were seventeen and there was nothing to do. Now, though, it seemed sad.

  Sure enough, when I turned the corner that led to the high school I found six men on the court sans shirts. They looked to be going at each other hard, all elbows and picks. I slowed my pace as I headed toward them, squinting to make out faces. Only one of them seemed even remotely familiar as I strolled up.

  “Heads up!” a male voice yelled, causing me to instinctively cover my face and slide to the right. The ball that had been careening toward my head flew harmlessly to the side.

  The sweaty man who raced over to collect the ball was the only one that I recognized. He offered up a lopsided grin as he regarded me.

  “Stormy Morgan. You look exactly the same.”

  I wasn’t sure if that was meant as a compliment. “Tristan Carter. You look ... great.” That seemed to be the expected response, especially since he was standing in such a way that all his muscles were on full display. While he’d never been my favorite person in the world, I had to admit that his body was a masterpiece. He looked to spend long hours in the gym. It was working for him.

  “Of course I do.” Tristan winked before throwing the ball back to the other men. “I’ll sit out the rest of this game. Be back for the next one.”

  There was some grumbling behind my back — I could just imagine what the other players were thinking — but I kept my full attention on Tristan. His hair was the same glossy black that I remembered and he had one of those chins that looked strong in profile but was weak straight on. His smile was exactly the same, and I could only imagine how many women he’d talked out of their panties since high school on the strength of that smile alone. Heck, the number was high even before we’d graduated.

  “I heard you were back in town.” Tristan used his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow and took a long swig of water from the bottle he had stored next to the pile of shirts at the side of the court. “I didn’t think it was possible ... but here you are.”

  “Here I am.” I kept my smile in place even though being around him made my skin crawl. There was always something about him that I disliked. He had “date rapist” practically stamped on his forehead. At least that was my assumption as a teenager. As an adult, it still felt like the right call. “How are things for you?” I wanted to ask him about Bobby, but if I blurted out the question he might turn suspicious.

  “Things are great.” Tristan beamed. “I’m working for my father now.”

  Tristan’s father owned the local resort, one of the few places people could find steady employment in the area. There were no factory jobs to speak of — they’d dried up decades ago — and other than a few garages, pickings were slim.

  “Oh, yeah?” I feigned interest. “What do you do for him?”

  “What don’t I do?” His smile never faltered. “I do everything. My father wants to retire. He’s making sure I’m capable of running every aspect of the business before handing it over to me.”

  “Wow. When do you think that will happen?”

  “I don’t know. Soon.”

  He essentially was admitting that he was trapped at the whim of his father. From what I knew of the man, he would keel over at his desk before handing the reins over to Tristan. Just like when we were in high school, Tristan was all about perception. He wanted people to think he was a big guy when he was really a small guy trying to walk around in his daddy’s shoes.

  “Well, it sounds like you’re leading a very interesting life.” I flicked my eyes to the other players. They were laughing and leering. It was obvious they thought Tristan was putting the moves on me, which I had no doubt he w
as about to attempt. “So ... I’m actually looking for someone.” I changed tactics quickly. There was no sense prolonging the conversation. “Bobby Buttons. I heard he plays with you guys.”

  Tristan drew his eyebrows together. “Bobby? Why are you looking for him?”

  “I just wanted to catch up with him.”

  “I don’t remember you hanging out with him in high school.”

  “I don’t really want to hang out with him. I just ... have something I want to ask him.”

  Tristan wrinkled his nose, dubious. “I don’t know what to tell you. He’s not here today. I think he had some work to do at his father’s office.”

  “I didn’t know he worked for his father, too. There must be something in the water.”

  “You work for your grandfather. That’s what people are saying.”

  “I am back working for my grandfather,” I agreed. “I was including myself in the statement.”

  His smile was back. For a few seconds, it appeared as if he was getting defensive. Now his world-famous charm was back on display. “Yes, I guess we’re all where we’re supposed to be. You got out for a bit. You were a big deal, on television and everything.”

  How I wished people would stop bringing up the television interview. It wasn’t a fond memory, even though I thought it was a big deal at the time. Now it was something of an embarrassment, especially given the fact that my second book had barely been on the shelves for a month before it was relegated to the bargain bins. “And yet I’m back,” I noted. “I guess all things happen for a reason.”

  “Maybe the reason is so we could hang out,” he suggested.

  That sounded like something that was never going to happen. “Never say never,” I said. “About Bobby ... .”

  “Forget about Bobby.” Tristan’s tone was forceful. “He always shows up when you least expect it ... or want it, for that matter. I’m sure he’ll be at the bonfire tonight.”

  “What bonfire?”

  “The one down by the river. The one we have every weekend.”

  I was taken aback. I thought for certain that Hunter’s small group was the only one still hanging in that area. Apparently I was mistaken and I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to make of it. “Are you talking about the old party spot?” I had to be sure.