I’d seen the young woman around since the competition began three days ago. She always wore a cute hat over her chestnut hair, be it a beret or a bolo; she was super fashionable, something you already know I envy. Her partner was tall and slender, but his shoulders were wide and he carried himself with confidence.
Also, his hair was perfect. A gleaming black swath of tamed perfection.
If I haven’t mentioned it before, I don’t just envy the fashionable, I envy hair. Good hair. And this guy had good hair.
My hair? Not so good and not so cooperative, unless I used magic. It was almost black—with chocolate highlights I paid good money for—stick straight and just grazed the tops of my shoulders.
I mostly wore it in a top bun or ponytail because it never curled well. So when I saw someone with hair like this guy’s, my green-eyed monster rose to the surface.
I got the feeling they were newlyweds, very new newlyweds. They were never far apart, and they spent an awful lot of time smooching in corners of the ice festival when they weren’t churning out some pretty impressive sculpting.
I was really captivated with their Santa in a convertible. The detail on the Corvette alone was intimidating, and I thought I’d say so. “You’re Jolie and Jerry Sampson, right?” I asked, wincing when they literally had to pull themselves apart from each other to answer me, making me feel like an intruder.
But Jolie smiled her sweet, dimpled grin, twisting her finger around her shiny braid. “That’s us. You’re Halliday Valentine, right?”
I stuck my hand out before hitching my thumb over my shoulder. “I am, but just call me Hal, and this is Hobbs Dainty.”
As we shook hands, Jolie said, “Nice to meet you both. I’ve seen you in and out of the tent.”
“You guys are really good,” I complimented. “That Corvette convertible is amazing.”
Jerry shifted on legs as long as a supermodel’s, and smiled. “Thanks. It runs in our blood. Or I should say in Jolie’s blood.”
I cocked my head and asked, “How so?”
He beamed, obviously proud of his wife as he gave her a squeeze. “Jolie’s mom, Tana West, is an expert ice sculptor. She’s won tons of championships all over the world.”
I drove my hands into my jacket pockets and smiled. “How interesting. I didn’t know they even existed before I took this class.”
“Oh, yeah,” Jerry crooned. “There’s big money in it. But we just do it for fun, right, honey?”
Jolie beamed back at him and snuggled closer. “Right, and because it makes my mother so happy to see me carry on the legacy of ice sculpting. Don’t tell her, but I don’t know if traveling all over the world, trying to win championships, is in the cards for me. Anyway, it was nice to meet you both, and good luck tomorrow.”
I almost snarfed, but managed to contain myself. “I think if you’ve seen our sculpture, you know we need more than luck. We need a farkin’ miracle.”
As Yule Wolfram and Blanche Ritter, who happened to be a very attractive older lady, passed us by, I heard him snicker—probably about the fact that we would, indeed, need a miracle. Which was kind of mean. I’d lob a spell that had him leaking out of every orifice, if not for Hobbs standing so close.
Jolie distracted me when she patted me on the shoulder and gave me a sympathetic smile the way all champions do when they know they’re champions. “It just takes practice. You’ll get it eventually.”
She turned back around when Gracie called them to the counter to take their order, and I was struck by just how pretty Jolie’s hair was. Shiny and thick, she’d braided it with some fun red and white ribbon.
Like I said, I have hair envy.
As the two snuggled even closer while placing their order, Hobbs whispered distractedly, “All I need is the air that I breathe…”
“Huh?”
He laughed. “Sorry. It’s a song. You know, by The Hollies? It made me think of them. You know the line, right? All I need is the air that I breathe and to love you.”
My heart clenched in my chest. Was this a tender side to Hobbs I had yet to see? I knew he loved animals and he was really good with people, but love songs, too? I found myself with hot cheeks and feeling a little breathless.
“I do know it, and I was thinking more Madonna and ‘Crazy for You,’ but The Hollies’ll work.”
He eyed them giggling and cuddling and said, “Maybe it’s closer to ‘Obsession’ by Animotion.”
“Or ‘Every Breath You Take’ by the Police.”
“I see your Police and offer you, “‘I’m on Fire’ by Bruce Springsteen.”
I was about to lob another song title back when a vision hit me—all at once and hard, as if someone had jerked me by the arm.
My pulse became sluggish, slowing to a crawl, and before me, there it was again—a red saucer sled as big as a car.
It barreled toward me, swooshing down the snow-covered hill they used for the Marshmallow Hollow sledding contest. The clouds above were puffy and blue and not at all like a winter sky in our neck of the woods.
And then there were flowers…spring flowers. Tulips and daffodils and hyacinth—purple hyacinth—lining the hill, pushing up through the snow.
As the sled rushed at me, cresting the humps in the hill and landing on the glistening snow, I got a small glimpse of something inside the red plastic sled… A…a cat?
No wait. A kitten! A gray tabby with a bit of peach coloring on its head. Oddly, the feline didn’t appear to mind the ride at all. It sat happily in the middle of the saucer, its fur blown back from the force of the wind, almost as if it were enjoying itself.
What the frack kind of cat liked wet snow?
Almost the moment I saw the tiny kitten, the enormous saucer landed at my feet—but to my dismay, I realized the saucer wasn’t red at all.
It was covered in blood…
CHAPTER 2
“In the meadow we can build a snowman…”
“Hal?” I heard Hobbs say, sounding as though he was underwater. “It’s your favorite cowboy. I’m here. Right next to you, in fact. All you have to do is reach out when you’re ready.”
There was a gasp and then a feminine voice asked, “Is she okay? Should I get help?”
“No. She’s fine. It’s just a migraine. I’ve got her. No need to worry.”
I was torn from the vision with a vengeance, slapping me back into reality with a hot jolt.
Reaching for Hobbs, I was grateful for the comfort he brought—and I don’t mind saying, I didn’t hate his hard biceps as he balanced me.
“I’m okay now. It’s okay,” I whispered as my eyesight cleared and my surroundings returned.
Hobbs rubbed soothing circles over my back, making me shiver, pulling me closer so I snuggled into him. “Tell me what you need, Hal.”
His deep, warm voice and his Southern lilt soothed me, almost as much as my mother’s voice had when she’d been the one to talk me down from a vision.
I felt a little ridiculous as I realized there were people in line, staring at me with concerned looks on their faces. So I smiled and flapped my hands dismissively.
“I’m fine, all. Thanks for the concern.” Then I straightened and waited my turn for some hot chocolate—but I’ll be flocked and feathered if that vision didn’t have me wondering what the heck it all meant.
“Shall we talk about it?” Hobbs asked, leaning down to whisper in my ear.
Burying my chin in the neck of my jacket, I shook my head. “I’m not sure what there is to talk about. It was kind of bizarre. But let’s get our hot chocolate and head to your Jeep and then we’ll discuss.”
As we approached Gracie and placed our order, I made idle chitchat with her. “How’ve you been, Gracie?”
She smiled, her peachy lips turning upward in a grin. “I’m pretty good. How about you, Hal? How’s it going with the ice sculpting contest?”
“Things are good with me, but the ice sculpting contest? Not as good. Though, try telling Stiles that. I
can’t seem to convince him that baby Jesus looks about as much like Yoda as I do Arianna Grande.”
She winced as she cut up some fresh marshmallows and gave them a quick toast over an open fire, leaving them gooey and lightly browned. “That was baby Jesus?”
I chuckled. “As played by Yoda. I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him right away.”
Instantly, her peachy-creamy skin went red, covering her freckled face. “Oh, I’m sorry, Hal. I didn’t mean to insult you. It looks…great.”
Reaching out a hand, I tapped the wooden counter for emphasis. “Do not apologize. What’s on that table is a hot mess, and we know it. Well, one of us knows it, and the other one is going to need a Come To Jesus talk to convince him it’s a hot mess before he knows it. But it’s a hot mess.”
Gracie sputtered a laugh, covering her mouth with the crook of her elbow. “It is a little rough. In fact, I thought I heard you two arguing about it over by the gingerbread parade display.”
“Me and Fitzi? We hardly ever argue.” And that was true. We hadn’t argued since quarreling over who wrote the best paranormal romance.
He was stuck on that Savannah Temple, and I’ll go to my grave swearing it’s Jude Deveraux. No discussion. But even then, we hadn’t really argued-argued. We’d disagreed.
She shrugged as she poured the creamy hot chocolate over my marshmallows. “Must have been someone else. They sure were carrying on about an ice sculpture, though. Lots of shouting.”
I didn’t think much of it as I took my paper cup and held it in both hands. “Well, it’s a tense time for some. There’s five hundred bucks at stake. Anyway, have I introduced you to my friend Hobbs?”
Hobbs grinned his very cute grin. “Oh, Gracie and I are well acquainted.”
Gracie snorted with a nod. “You bet we are. He’s one of my best customers. Since we met a couple of weeks ago, I’ve had to place an order for more butterscotch syrup because he cleans me out of the butterscotch marshmallows.”
Hobbs grinned as he took his cup, sliding the protective sleeve over the bottom. “Those are my favorite. Second only to the red velvet. Well, wait. Maybe the peppermint is second.” Then he laughed again. “I can’t pick. I like ’em all.”
I rolled my eyes as I handed Gracie my debit card. “You do see what you’ve created here, don’t you?”
She laughed and swiped my card. “Oh, I saw that a week ago.” Handing me back the card, she smiled. “You two have a good night, and good luck tomorrow.”
I cackled as we turned to leave. “We need more than luck, but thanks, Gracie. Have a great night!”
As we made our way to Hobbs’s Jeep, he beeped it open and held my door for me, before walking around to slide in himself, pressing the button to start the car. It took a minute for the warm air to pour from the vents and make my teeth stop chattering.
Hobbs turned to me, his face handsome in the dashboard lights. “So, what did you see?”
I took a sip of my hot chocolate before explaining my vision as best I could. “I think the part that startled me the most was the flowers. Why were there spring flowers in the snow?”
Hobbs frowned. “So the kitten in the blood was fine. It was the flowers that troubled you?”
I sighed and shook my head. “That wasn’t what I meant, but I guess it made more sense than the flowers. That feels like a real sign. If that makes sense?”
He set his cup on the dashboard. “It makes no sense, but I’m not the one having the visions. Do you think the vision was of something to come?”
I pulled off my gloves and jammed them into my jacket pockets. “I haven’t ever had a vision that didn’t, in some way, come to fruition. Well, except for the typewriter.”
Hobbs cocked his head. “The typewriter?”
I shrugged and turned to face him. “Yeah. I keep seeing a typewriter in my visions. Though, not in this one. It probably doesn’t mean anything,” I offered dismissively. “However, the kitten in the blood? That worries me.”
The look he gave me was strange, but I chalked it up to how weird my vision had been. “Are you okay?”
“I guess I have to be, don’t I? I mean, none of it makes any sense. Flowers in the snow, a saucer sled the size of a car and a kitten in blood. I don’t get it. So I won’t harp on it or it’ll make me crazy, then I won’t sleep, and you won’t like me if I don’t sleep. Neither will Stiles, who I have to try and talk out of staying in this contest bright and early tomorrow morning.”
He ran his knuckles over my cheek. “Well then, I’d better get my budding little Picasso home so she can get a good night’s sleep.”
I giggled. “Picasso was weird. I’m not much into art, but I’ve seen a lot of it when I was working as an interior designer, and I’m way more a Vincent Van Gogh girl. Like Starry Night.”
“Starry, starry night, paint your palette blue and gray,” Hobbs said.
I smiled fondly. “Don McLean. My nana was a huge fan.”
Hobbs pulled out of our parking space and aimed us toward home. “I think I would have liked your nana.”
I had to fight another giggle.
If he only knew…
After a good night’s sleep, I was up bright and early, armed with a million arguments for why we should forfeit the ice sculpting contest. One of them being, we shouldn’t be allowed to create a nativity set with Play-Doh, let alone chainsaws and blocks of ice.
I even ran my many excuses past Atticus, who agreed most of them were pretty solid. And then I ran them past Hobbs, who’d dropped off Stephen King for me to watch while he participated in the sled race, and he also agreed I had a decent enough argument to back out.
But when I arrived at the ice carving tent, a very disappointed Stiles was pacing in front of our table where our nativity scene—and I use that term as loosely as it gets—was partially crushed.
He wore a red puffy vest with both a flannel and thermal shirt beneath—a sure sign he meant business. He said the vest made it easier to move around with the chainsaw.
As I got a closer look, I gasped. And listen, I’m not saying that I think fate intervened here to save me the trouble of having to convince my BFF that we were the low-rent version of ice carvers, but I sure didn’t wish what we had accomplished smashed to bits.
“What happened?” I asked in disbelief, looking around at the chunks of ice scattered across our table and on the ground.
Stephen King flopped on my feet as Stiles reached down to stroke his broad head.
Everyone else’s entries looked fine. Ours, with the exception of Luke Skywalker/Joseph, was trashed, and even he lay on his side, his gaping hole for an eye, staring blankly at me.
When I took an even closer look, I saw Luke’s lightsaber (again, a loose term) that Stiles had worked so hard on. Half of it was broken off and likely crushed with the rest of our entry.
What did the universe have against us?
Stiles let out a ragged sigh, making Stephen King groan. “I have no idea, but it’s a mess. There’s no way we can salvage this now.”
Maybe I didn’t care what the universe had against us because I considered this a lucky break, but I couldn’t say that to Stiles. “Are you sure? Because I’m willing to try, buddy. You know I am.”
Please let him say no. Please let him say no.
Stiles blew out a defeated breath, planting his hands on his hips. “Forget it. There’s no way we can catch up now. But I’m here to tell you, I had some great ideas for fixing this right up. Can’t believe someone sabotaged us.”
I fought a wince. Phew. Dodged a bullet there, didn’t you, Valentine? “So what do you think happened?” I asked, trying not to cheer this happy accident.
“I don’t know, but you can bet your couscous I’m gonna find out!” Then he paused, his eyes narrowed. “You don’t think it was Buddy Wilson, do you? Maybe he was jealous and decided to exact a little revenge?”
I looked over at Buddy Wilson, studiously chiseling the ice skater he’d crafted—
who, by the way, was doing a triple axel—and I bit the inside of my cheek.
If you only knew how hard I had to fight off a snicker. Instead, I cleared my throat and tried to be as honest as I could without being hurtful.
“I don’t think that at all, Stiles. I think Buddy’s going to be just fine without taking out the competition.”
In fact, even one of the worst sculptors in our class had managed to pull off a wreath that wasn’t half bad.
He growled his frustration. “I’m gonna go find Darien and tell him we’re out.”
I looked around the tent as everyone was chiseling away, fully engrossed in their sculptures, and saw Darien crossing the space with long strides.
“No need. Here comes Prince Charming now.” I waved to our handsome instructor. Seeing his face made me feel a bit better about Stiles and how he could really use some cheering up. Darien was just the guy to do that.
I kept my fingers crossed he’d finally ask Stiles out—that would take some of the sting out of us forfeiting the contest.
As Darien approached in his stylish plaid vest and fun aviator hat, his eyes warm when he saw Stiles, I noticed the sledding contest was gearing up. Folks were lining up at the top of the steep hill in the park right next to the tent for the ice sculpting contest, and the crowd was gathering down below.
That was really where I wanted to be. I know, I know. It was wrong, considering our entry had been vandalized, but I almost didn’t care who’d done it because I felt like they were saving us from a lot of public humiliation.
I mean I cared if it was purposeful. That would be mean. But I doubted it had been done with malice. Who’d want to snuff us out and if someone did, did they have their glasses on when they saw our entry?
Anyway, right now, I really wanted to see the sledding contest. I’d originally wanted to enter it, but it interfered with our ice sculpting, so, in the spirit of BFFs, I refrained.
“Hey, Hal,” Darien crooned in his deep, cultured voice. “I heard you guys got hammered, huh? I’m really sorry. I hope it was an accident and someone comes forward. I don’t know who would have done something like this on purpose.”
One Corpse Open Slay Page 2
