Southern Spinster (Frostville Book 2)

by Cassie Mae

  After a beat, he gave her a shy smiled and steadied the laptop open. He clicked on a spreadsheet, and up popped a list of all the murder mystery characters, their bios and relationships with one another, and color-coded suspects.

  “Well,” she said. “You’ve been busy.”

  A crimson wave went through his neck and up to his ears. He reached over and scratched his elbow, the muscles stretching his light blue short-sleeved polo. “Yeah… uh… this stuff is sort of my thing.”

  She made herself a little more comfortable, careful not to lift her dress and flash the entire other side of the room. The crack of billiard balls provided a relaxing background music for the amazing buzz she felt just sitting next to the shy man from… actually, she didn’t know where he was from yet.

  “You know who it is yet?” she asked, leaning in to examine his chart. A jolt went through her chest when she read Michael’s name.

  Garreth shook his head. “Too little data right now to make a really good guess, but after today… Maybe.” He bent forward, as if whispering a secret to her. Goosebumps prickled up the back of her neck. “Pretty sure I know who’s next to get the boot.”

  She loved how confident his voice suddenly became, talking about the things that seemed to interest him. “You think there will be more than one murder?”

  His eyes grew big. “Absolutely. Frostville is known for keeping the guests on their toes. I bet anything the next victim shows up tomorrow.”

  “Who is it?” she asked, fully invested. She honestly hadn’t given much thought to the murder mystery, but watching Garreth’s enthusiasm over it was contagious.

  He waggled a finger, bringing her in closer. His breath smelled of cinnamon butter that she longed for a taste of.

  Watch it, Maybelle. You don’t even know if he’s interested in you.

  “I’m almost positive Edward is next.”

  She maintained eye contact with him, excitement bubbling in her grin when Garreth didn’t look away. “Who’s Edward?” she whispered, and Garreth let out a heavy and gut-filled laugh, one that filled the room and made his cheeks turn red.

  Wow, did she ever love it.

  “He’s the princess’s tennis instructor.” He pointed to the long line connecting Winter’s name to Edward’s. There was a nickname underneath in quotes: “Eddie.”

  “Ah, poor Eddie. Probably won’t even know what hits him.”

  “Well, he would if he pays attention.” Garreth winked, and flutters erupted under her skin. Maybelle nervously bit back a squeal, praying it didn’t seep out. “I bet if we follow the guy around, we’d find out who the killer is by tomorrow.”

  “Where’s the fun in finding out early?”

  His mouth popped open in the most adorable way. “That’s the ultimate goal, isn’t it? To crack the case as soon as possible.”

  That look was going to kill her. “Then we should.”

  “Huh?”

  “Follow him around. Figure out this mystery before anyone else.” And get to know each other in the process. “You up for it?”

  A slow grin wrapped his face, and long gone was the awkward, shy man she’d met yesterday, and in this place was the excited boy with a candy bar dangling within reach. She decided she liked both versions, and hoped to find even more.

  “Yeah, I’m definitely up for it.”

  “So, what do you think?” Garreth asked, his warmth and proximity creating a permanent smile on Maybelle’s face. He nodded at a passing Edward, whom she’d just spent the past twenty minutes chatting and laughing with while they ate a barbeque lunch out on a wide and gorgeous terrace. Edward was her type of guy—young, loud, and hilarious. Too bad it was all an act, and he was out of her age zone.

  “You really think it’ll be him?” she said with a frown. “He’s been the best part of this whole thing.”

  Garreth chuckled, placing a nervous hand on her shoulder. Her heart buzzed and beat as he gave her a shy grin and slowly spun her to look at Ms. Vancouver and Will eating in a couple of chaise loungers on the corner of the large terrace. His voice was low and close in her ear, creating havoc on her pulse. She tried not to get too excited; Garreth had yet to display any sort of interest outside of the mystery, and she didn’t want to set herself up for disappointment like she had so many times before.

  “There’s our murderer,” he whispered. She caught his eye and raised a brow.

  “The old lady?” she blurted, and he quickly gave her a look that said to quiet down. “Don’t ya think that’s a bit obvious?”

  He let out a laugh and shook his head. “No, not her—”

  A loud squeal cut through nearly everyone’s conversations, and Maybelle grinned, amused that she wasn’t the only loudmouth at the place. One of the girls who’d floated around Garreth the night before now looked pretty darn comfy with Dave, touching his arm and laughing out loud at whatever he said. It was nice to see, even with jealousy and worry poking at the back of her mind, telling her that Cupid had pointed his arrow elsewhere.

  Garreth’s hand left her shoulder, a cold breeze replacing his warm touch. He cleared his throat and his mouth turned up in that adorably nervous grin. “Uh… you got… um…” He lifted his thumb, his hand shaking something fierce before swiping away whatever residue had been on her chin. Blood rushed through her veins, and she let out a piercing laugh.

  “Can’t take me anywhere, I s’pose.”

  He shrugged. “Or maybe just use that napkin I offered you earlier.”

  “Was that a joke?” She grinned, elated. “Your first joke! I’m so proud!”

  She was teasing, and she loved the bashful look on his face, painting his tan skin red. His brilliantly white teeth shined as bright as the sun through his grin, and he scratched at an itch Maybelle wasn’t positive was actually there. “I’m not sure it was all that funny.”

  She waved him off and snagged two drinks from a passing tray, then handed one over. “To Garreth slowly creeping out of his shell.”

  He shook his head, amusement dancing in his chocolate eyes, and tipped his drink back. The lemon wedge on the edge of the glass plopped onto his eye and they both had a good laugh.

  “Hey, Garreth!” a brunette beauty called from across the terrace. Garreth plopped the lemon wedge onto the ice in his drink, raising a polite brow at the girl. She gestured to Will who was standing next to her. “He’s a ‘guest,’” she said, air quotes and all. Maybelle furrowed her brow, sharing a look with her brother that was utterly confused.

  “That’s our murderer,” Garreth whispered, his gaze on Will. Maybelle pressed her lips together, but it didn’t stop her giggles.

  “That’s my brother, there.”

  Garreth’s mouth dropped open, and he jerked back. “You’re acting in this, too?”

  Maybelle wasn’t sure if he was joking or serious; his face had that perma-nervous/adorable energy, but when his eyes broke down in amusement, her heart leapt at the fact that he was teasing her. This shy, quiet, and handsome man was teasing her, and she liked it more than she could express.

  “A’right, funny guy,” she said, playfully pushing his shoulder, surprised by the hard muscle that lay hidden underneath his shirt, “who’s that?”

  “Alexis?” he asked, nodding at the brunette who was making her way over to Ms. Vancouver with a notepad and pen poised. “She’s staying here with that group from Ohio.” He let out a small chuckle. “You think my research was thorough; you should check out hers.”

  Maybelle wet her lips, trying hard not to let the green monster wreak havoc in her gut. “Are you two working on the mystery together?”

  “A little.” His brows pulled in. “I thought… well, you and I have been, too, right?”

  “Right.” Her voice was firm, but her insecurities started rushing into her mind. Sure, he’d spent a good portion of lunch with her, and they’d sat together at dinner the night before, but she wasn’t sure if there were sparks. Perhaps miniature sparks she was too afraid to hope for an
y meaning in. It felt… well, she wasn’t sure how it felt yet. She was attracted to Garreth, and she loved watching his shyness and nerves around her. They were almost boyish, innocent, like high school crush—possibilities and fantasies thrived when she was around him.

  But was that one-sided, just as so many other instances had been?

  “You know who we should talk to,” Garreth said, breaking her from her thoughts. “Michael.”

  She swallowed hard. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “Me neither.” He waggled his brows. “Maybe that’s a huge clue in itself.”

  She nodded, losing interest in the mystery, but unsure of how to segue into a conversation about him, what he’s looking for, if he’s even single… Her eyes fell to his ringless left hand, but that didn’t always confirm single status.

  “Oh, there’s James,” she said, pointing across the terrace at the only other actor they hadn’t interrogated. “You wanna jump in there before he disappears?”

  Garreth set his glass down then took two fingers, pointed at his own eyes then at her. She giggled at his nerdy signal and tilted her head as he walked away, checking out every delectable angle of that man.

  Tapping her nails against her glass, she weaved through a few guests, looking for her brother. She found him hunched over in the corner with Winter, their heads close together, and his eyes showing more interest in what she was saying than Maybelle had seen him give anyone, and that included when he met his mentor, Chef Duffy.

  “Well, what do we have here…” she mused, taking a sip of her drink. Will would be the last guy to admit that something—or someone—had changed his mind about Frostville, but Maybelle was sure that by the end of their stay, he wouldn’t be waiting in the car, honking for her to get out of the mansion so they could get home.

  She turned on her heel, trekking to the bar. Garreth and Alexis were both now quizzing James, and Maybelle couldn’t help but frown. She knew she had no right to be jealous, no right to feel threatened, but after years of rejection, it seemed second nature to put up that wall of defense. Alexis was beautiful, young, and equally enthused about solving the mystery. If Garreth wised up to the way she looked at him after every note she jotted down in her notepad, he’d most likely spend the rest of his stay in her company. Maybelle wasn’t exactly the analytical type, much rather preferring to go with the flow. She smiled through uncomfortable and awkward situations and made a fool of herself often with little embarrassment. She was voluptuous and loud, older and her laugh lines gave proof of her age. With so many men turning her away, how could the Thor-look-alike ever think of her as anything other than an entertaining buddy?

  Her spirits took a dive, and she placed her drink on the bar and slumped onto a stool, debating on going back to her room and giving herself a pep talk.

  A light brush touched her elbow. “Hey.” Michael’s deep voice lifted her heart the tiniest bit. When she met his eyes, he nodded for her to follow him. “I want to show you something.”

  With one more glance at Alexis and Garreth, she pushed from the stool and took Michael’s waiting hand.

  “You’re not kidnapping me, are ya?” Maybelle asked after a long journey through the mansion, jutting her hip and crossing her arms as her dress swished near her calves. Michael simply gave her a wink.

  “If only I could.”

  Gosh, he sure was good with the one-liners. “Well, you should warn a girl before so much cardio. My piggies are barkin’.”

  He tossed his head back with laughter and stopped, making her bump into his back. He was a stone wall of muscle and man, and her thoughts vacated her head momentarily.

  “Think you can make it twenty more feet?” he teased. “Or should I carry you?”

  “You should definitely carry me.”

  She never thought he would. She’d never been the girl to be carried. When she pictured her wedding day, she didn’t imagine her husband plucking her up like she was light as air because she simply wasn’t. She was a good size sixteen wide hip and special order size undergarment. So when Michael swept an arm under her knees and she fell back into his hold, her stomach was left somewhere on the floor.

  “Oh!” she squealed, grasping for his neck, hot flames licking her skin. “Sweet Mary and Joseph, you don’t have to—”

  “Your pigs were barking,” he said, his voice vibrating through his chest, beating in the palm of her hand. “From what I hear, that’s not the noise they make, so I was concerned.”

  Her feet did ache, but that sensation was drowned out by the worry that he would soon regret this decision. Did he normally carry this much weight? She honestly didn’t think so, no matter how buff he was.

  His steps fell heavy against the wood floor, an easy grin on his face. She took the opportunity to admire his features while they were so close—the small curls in his dark facial hair, precision in the trimming that told her it was part of a daily routine. His lips were pink against his dark skin, full and wide, and she bit her own, wondering how it would be to be kissed by lips like that.

  He spun around as they neared a door, then pushed it open with his back. Maybelle curled in closer so her head didn’t get taken off by a doorframe. His skin smelled of honey and citrus, and she wondered what he’d had for lunch because she could go for some.

  “Okay,” he said, facing them out, the sun piercing through the clouds. Maybelle squinted, tempted to shade her eyes but didn’t want to drop her hold on Michael. What if that small movement was the straw that broke the camel’s back and she fell straight to her rear-end?

  “Okay…” she said, eyes still adjusting. The sun reflected off a glassy fountain, rays skewing off in every direction, rainbows dancing across the surface. She gave him a smile and wriggled enough to make him set her to her feet. “It’s gorgeous.”

  He chuckled deeply and set a large hand on her chin, delicately nudging her gaze to just beyond the extravagant fountains.

  Her stomach leaped. “Oooooh.”

  “I thought you might want to see him in person.”

  She set a grateful and touched hand on his arm, then crossed around the water to the life size statue, the marble glinting in the sun. The young god looked masculine and stoic, standing with his arrow poised, a quiver hung low on his hip, a robe exposing a smooth and chiseled chest. She tilted her head, tempted to run her fingers along one of the angel feathers jutting from his back.

  “He’s a lot more… grown up than I imagined.” She laughed. Michael came up beside her.

  “Well, this is Eros, not Cupid. You won’t see a mischievous little baby with wings around here.”

  “Mischievous?” She reached for his elbow, stroking a single finger across the marble. “Maybe Cupid is the one hanging around Alabama.”

  “Whatever helps you feel better.”

  She gave him a good back-handed smack to the stomach. He pretended it hurt, but it couldn’t possibly have. There was way too much amusement in his eyes.

  “Do you know the difference?” he asked, nodding up at the statue. “Between the two.”

  “One is Greek, the other is Roman.”

  “Yeah, but there’s a bit more to it than that.”

  She waved at the handsome display she never would’ve thought to associate with the god of love she’d grown up picturing. “Obviously.”

  He chuckled. “Well, besides their looks, Eros is a bit more about love than lust, while Cupid’s got the reputation of picking on us humans.”

  “Making us fall for people who won’t love us back?”

  “Not exactly. Just wound us with his arrows.”

  She pointed at the quiver. “Seems like this guy knows how to wound us, too.”

  He circled around the statue, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He had no qualms about touching the statue, so Maybelle took that as an okay to poke at one of the arrow tips. “They both had two kinds of arrows—lead and gold. Cupid may have been the god of love, but it was said that he shot arrows of lust and distaste, while Er
os shot ones of love and indifference.”

  “That’s quite the distinction.” She dropped her hand and looked up into the face of the Greek god. “Though indifference seems much more painful than distaste.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “It’s easy to forget about someone who obviously doesn’t like you. Not so much with someone who treats you like a friend but feels nothing for you.”

  He raised a thick brow and ducked under the statue’s arm, closing the gap between them. “You got some experience in that?”

  “More than I care to admit.”

  He was quiet for a beat. “That seems insane.” He settled a hand on hers as she played with the stone arrows. “I can’t imagine anyone feeling indifferent to someone like you.”

  Heat rushed through her chest, and she laughed off the compliment. “You tell all the girls that?”

  “Just you.” He smirked.

  She looked down at his hand on hers, butterflies flapping their little wings in the pit of her stomach. “Careful, Michael. You could get a girl thinking she might have a chance with ya.”

  He let out a long, exaggerated sigh of relief. “Oh good. I was afraid I was being too subtle.”

  If she had been blushing before, it was nothing compared to what spread through her cheeks then. She ripped her eyes away and got caught up in the rainbows dancing along the fountains. Getting a man interested had been her only battle in her dating years, and Michael had known her all of twenty-four hours and laid it out there for her to take. She subconsciously looked around for Will, needing him to come intervene, because by golly, she was ready and willing to take Michael’s hand and run off into the sunset, no matter what his thoughts on marriage and children.

  He must’ve sensed her dilemma, because he broke the silence and let go of her hand, using Eros’s abs to hold himself up. “Plans tonight?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Do you have plans tonight?”

  “I think my entire stay is planned, ain’t it?”

  “I meant after the act. One I should really be more active in right now or I’m gonna get the boot.”