Wicked Games (Hartley Grace Featherstone Mysteries Book 3)

by Gemma Halliday

  I rounded the kitchen doorway and stopped short. Mom wore a knee length little black dress that dipped in at the waist, a pair of cute nude heels, and she'd tied a frilly pink apron over the top. She was bent at the oven, checking out whatever was inside. She looked positively housewifey.

  She glanced over and momentarily frowned. She shut the oven door with her hip. "Jeans, Hartley? You couldn't find something a little nicer?"

  I snorted. "Mom, it's dinner with Chase. It's not a big deal."

  Too bad my knotted stomach didn't agree with me. I suddenly wondered if I should have changed. No, Chase would show up in a T-shirt probably depicting something gross or inappropriate in Mom's world. If I looked "nice," I'd be totally overdressed.

  "What's with the apron?" I asked.

  Mom looked down, smoothing it with one hand. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, what 1950s housewife did you steal it off of?"

  She shot me a look. "Ha. Ha. I think it's cute."

  "Very…domestic."

  "Thank you."

  That wasn't a compliment. But before I could say more, she pointed to the counter.

  "Can you set the table please?"

  "Happy to," I said, with maybe a smidgen more relief than I meant to. At least with my hands busy, maybe my stomach would calm down.

  That is until I reached for the plates and realized they were her good china—the white ones with a green ivy trim and a thin gold line around the edges.

  "Why are we using these?" I asked.

  "We have guests. I just thought it would be nice."

  "Mom, Chase isn't really a fine china kind of guy." In fact, I'd only ever seen him eat off our cafeteria trays and out of paper fast food wrappers.

  Mom shot me a look. "Indulge me, okay? I don't get to entertain a lot."

  "Seems like you're entertaining Raley all the time," I noted, setting the plates on the table.

  "That's not entertaining. It's—" She paused, floundering for the right word.

  "Ridiculously too often?" I supplied.

  She shot me that look again. "Just set the table, Hart."

  I waited until her back was turned to roll my eyes. Was I a good daughter or what?

  Feeling the trepidation grow with each passing second, I set Mom's good "entertaining" china down on the table, feeling like I was about to be on some sort of horrible double date. Maybe it wasn't too late to break that arm after all.

  As I set down the last plate, the doorbell rang.

  I took a deep breath. I did a quick makeup check in the mirror above the dining room buffet. And I steeled myself for what I was sure would be the most awkward meal ever as I crossed to the front door and threw it open.

  Standing on the porch was not only Chase but Raley as well.

  Raley wore a pinched expression, as if he'd just eaten a pickle. He was dressed in his usual cheap blazer and polyester slacks ensemble, but they looked newer and not quite as tight as his normal fare. Maybe he'd gone shopping, although I found it hard to picture him browsing through clothing racks at the mall.

  Chase, on the other hand, wore a smirk that told me maybe there had been some interaction between the two before they hit the porch. As I'd expected he was dressed all in black—his usual black jeans and black combat boots. But unexpectedly, he'd paired them with a black, button-down shirt and a black blazer that looked surprisingly adultish. And kinda nice. I swore I detected a hint of aftershave coming from him as the pair stepped inside the foyer.

  "Hey," Chase said. "You look nice." He gave me an up and down that made my cheeks heat.

  "Thanks. You too."

  He shrugged. "I know how to clean up." He gave me a wink.

  My cheeks went volcanic.

  Raley cleared his throat, and I noticed he was holding a bottle of wine. He handed it to Mom as she came from the kitchen. "It's vegan," he said and kissed her cheek.

  "There's non-vegan wine?" I asked. "What else goes in the bottle beside grapes?

  "Chase, so nice to see you again," she said, pointedly ignoring me.

  "Thanks for the invitation, Mrs. Featherstone." He gave her a wide grin. "I'm really looking forward to dinner."

  Fool.

  "Hartley is always raving about your cooking," he continued.

  Now he was laying it on too thick. She'd never believe that.

  "Really?" Mom raised her eyebrow my way as if she knew full well that was a lie. But she gave Chase a polite smile anyway. "Well, why don't you three have a seat in the living room while I finish up in the kitchen."

  "You sure you don't need any help?" Raley asked, looking about as eager as I felt to hang out together while Mom cooked.

  "No, I'm fine. Dinner will just be a minute." Mom took the wine bottle into the kitchen, and I heard her uncorking it as the three of us stood there in the living room awkwardly. Chase shoved his hands into his pockets. Raley shifted from foot to foot. I felt stiff and like I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands.

  "Uh, so, Chase," Raley said, "you work on the school paper with Hartley?"

  "That's right, sir."

  Sir? I shot him a look.

  "That's nice." Raley nodded. Then he gestured to the living room for us to sit.

  I did, perching on the corner of the sofa while Raley took the armchair directly across. Chase started to sit in the center of the sofa, only a few inches from me, but he caught Raley's eye and quickly moved a couple of feet to his right, taking the other far corner.

  "So, where do you live, Chase?" Raley asked.

  "Off Cherry Blossom."

  "Uh-huh. How long have you lived there?"

  "About five years. Moved here in middle school."

  "And you're a junior too?"

  I rolled my eyes. What was this, an interrogation?

  "Actually, I'm a senior, sir," Chase answered.

  "A senior." Raley turned his gaze my way, something unreadable in it. "So, you're older than Hartley."

  "By, like, a year," I said. "It's not a big deal."

  "That year can turn into a big deal." Raley turned a hard eye on Chase. "Once you turn eighteen, you can get in all sorts of trouble for dating a girl a year younger."

  I closed my eyes and thought a dirty word.

  "I'm aware, sir," Chase said. To his credit, he kept a totally straight face.

  "It's called statutory—"

  "And we're moving on to a new subject!" I said. Maybe a little more loudly than I meant to, as both pairs of eyes turned my way. Raley's still held the hardness of a cop questioning a suspect. Chase's were twinkling with amusement.

  Raley cleared his throat. "You have plans after graduation, Chase?"

  Chase nodded. "Hoping to apply to the journalism program at UC Santa Cruz."

  Raley nodded. "So, you're going to be a slug."

  I scoffed. "Journalists are not slugs!" I said, coming to his defense. "I know you have a low opinion of the media in general, but Chase is a great editor. He's going to make a great journalist one day."

  Raley turned a frown toward me. "I meant a banana slug. That's the UCSC mascot."

  I shut my mouth with a click. "Oh." I looked to Chase, whose grin was positively bursting off his face with amusement now. "I didn't know that," I mumbled.

  "But thanks for the compliment, Hart." Chase gave me a wink.

  Raley narrowed his eyes at Chase.

  I was pretty sure my cheeks were never going to go back to their normal color again.

  Before my humiliation engulfed me in flames (I should be so lucky), Mom appeared in the archway. "The food is ready."

  Thank goodness for small favors.

  I jumped up from the sofa and made for the table so fast that I created a gust that ruffled the hem of her dress.

  Mom had added a couple of lit candles and flowers to the center of the table, and I had to admit it looked pretty. A little too romancey but definitely inviting.

  We took our seats—Raley across from Chase and Mom across from me—and Mom started
serving slices of her version of "meat" loaf.

  "Is that mac and cheese?" Chase asked, helping himself to a serving from the dish on the table.

  "It is," Mom said, smiling proudly. "All plant based and gluten free."

  Chase's hand faltered a bit on the way to his plate. "Plant based."

  I leaned over and whispered to him. "It's potatoes, carrots, and nutritional yeast. No actual cheese was harmed in the making of this dish."

  He stifled a laugh but bravely took a bite. To his credit, he didn't spit it back out. Maybe this meal wouldn't be a total disaster.

  "So, Chase," Mom said, "I'm so happy you could make it this evening. Hartley tells me you are a hot commodity."

  I nearly choked on a bite of plant based mush. "Mom!" I hissed.

  She looked up. "What? You did say he's super busy," she said, all wide-eyed innocence.

  Chase grinned beside me.

  Heat flashed into my face, and I knew I was the color of the tomato glaze on top of the veggie loaf. Was she trying to give me a heart condition?

  Raley cleared his throat. "This meat loaf is great." He picked at it with a fork in a way that totally contradicted the statement.

  "Thank you, David." Mom smiled at the compliment.

  I cut into mine, giving it my full attention in an effort not to make eye contact with anyone else. I could see bits of onion, celery, and some chickpeas. There were green flecks of some herb, but I tried not to identify too much more, lest it give me more reasons not to want to eat it. I took a tentative bite. There were enough spices to mask the veggies and make it palatable. Kind of.

  "Chase, how do you like working on the school paper?" Mom asked. Her tone was pleasant, though I could tell the SMother had the same interrogation agenda as Raley. Even if hers was slightly more subtle.

  "It's a lot of work, but it's satisfying."

  "And being editor will probably look great on your college applications." Mom shot me a meaningful look. "You need things like that to stand out these days."

  "We went over this in the living room already," I told her. "He's applying to be a slug."

  Mom gave me a blank look.

  "The UCSC mascot?" I explained.

  I thought I heard Chase smirk next to me again, but it might have just been an involuntary reaction to tasting the not-mac and not-cheese.

  "It takes some pretty good grades to get in there as a freshman," Raley said. "How are your grades, Chase?"

  I softly groaned, but no one seemed to notice.

  "They're good. Could be better, but I think my GPA is high enough to be competitive."

  "How about your SAT scores?" Mom asked.

  "Mom," I hissed again.

  She mouthed a What? at me.

  "They're fine. Not the highest, but not the lowest either," Chase answered.

  "Did you have a tutor?" Mom asked. "I told Hart, I think she needs an SAT tutor."

  "I don't need an SAT tutor," I gritted out.

  "Sam has one," Mom said, turning to Raley. "Sam's applying to Stanford."

  Raley nodded. "And where's Hartley looking at?"

  All three pairs of eyes went my way.

  "I-I don't know yet," I stammered. "But I have plenty of time to think about that, right?"

  All three pairs of eyebrows hunkered down in looks that were equal parts pity and concern.

  Chase's included.

  "You should really start thinking about that soon," he said.

  I shot him a glare. Whose side was he on?

  "Any summer plans, Chase?" Mom asked, munching happily, oblivious to the humiliating effects of her prying.

  Chase nodded. "Actually Hartley and I just applied for internships."

  I choked on a chickpea.

  "You did?" Mom perked up like someone had told her I'd just won the lottery. "Where?"

  "At Pea—ow!"

  I kicked Chase under the table.

  "Just some little software company," I said quickly. I shot Chase a looked that I hoped said to zip it. If Mom knew I'd been anywhere near the company the murdered guy had worked at, I could forget college because I'd be grounded until I was thirty.

  He frowned, rubbing his shin.

  "Software?" Mom said, perking up so much she was about to hover out of her chair. "Oh, Hart, I didn't know you were interested in coding?"

  "Lots of people applied. I doubt I'll get it." In fact I was 100% certain I wouldn't get it since I'd all but called the boss a murderer that afternoon.

  I snuck a peek at Raley. He was giving me a hard stare like he knew something was up.

  I clamped my lips shut, feigning interest in my meal lest I crack under his gaze.

  "Well, I'm sure we can find some other software companies looking for interns. In fact, I'll ask at work tomorrow," Mom said.

  Great. Now the SMother was on the summer job quest.

  I took a deep breath, trying not to inhale the scents of my meal, and prayed this dinner ended soon.

  "Well, Chase," Mom said, turning her eyes to him again, "I'm just so glad you could make it tonight. It's really nice to get to know Hartley's boyfriend better."

  "Mom!" Clearly my powers of prayer needed some work.

  She tuned those faux innocent eyes on me and again mouthed what?.

  I narrowed my eyes at her. She knew darn well what.

  However, I noticed in all our eye blinking and narrowing that Chase hadn't said anything.

  Like, nothing to refute his status as boyfriend to my mom.

  I snuck a glance at him from under my hair. But if he was shocked or offended by the moniker, he didn't show it. Just moving food around his plate and pretending to eat like the rest of us.

  "Sorry," I mumbled.

  He turned a pair of big brown eyes my way. Then he smirked and shrugged. "I've been called worse things," he whispered.

  I felt my heart speed up and turned my attention back to my meal to cover the goofy grin on my face.

  * * *

  We finally finished eating, and the guys went back into the living room. I volunteered to help Mom clean up in the kitchen. Which was odd enough that she quirked that eyebrow at me, but at least she didn't shoo me out to play hostess again. I heard the TV go on, and was finally able to lower my shoulders from my earlobes and relax my body some as I washed dishes.

  "He's nice," Mom whispered as she dried and set her china to the side.

  I mumbled a "Hmm" and continued washing. I had zero intention of discussing Chase with her. Ever.

  Mom took the hint and didn't say anything else. She put the china up in the cupboard above the fridge and set about making coffee and preparing for dessert.

  One more round to go, and then I could finally be done with this torture. As the coffeemaker did its thing, I washed extra slowly, not wanting to go back out to the living room again. Chase was on his own. Sorry buddy.

  But as I rescrubbed a fork for the third time, Mom came over and took the sponge from me.

  "Go sit with them. I got this," she said.

  "You sure?" I asked, gripping the fork for dear life.

  "Very. Go on. Take a break."

  If only.

  I dried my hands and walked into the living room.

  Chase and Raley were seated in the same spots as earlier, so I slid into the room and resumed the corner of the sofa. Neither of them glanced my way. They were either really interested in a Tide commercial or were trying to not make the first move in eliciting small talk.

  Mom joined us a moment later and sat on the arm of Raley's chair. He looked up at her, and they shared a smile before he put his arm around her waist. It should have made my stomach roll, but I had a weird moment of thinking they looked cute together. I hadn't seen Mom this comfortable around a man since long before Dad had left. So long ago that I'd almost forgotten what that looked like.

  She was genuinely happy. For now. As much as she deserved it, I couldn't say for certain that I felt Raley was the right guy for her. Sure, he had a steady job, which wa
s a cut above some of the losers out there. But he was just so…Raley.

  I frowned, realizing that was feeling like a thinner and thinner argument, even in my own head.

  I looked to Chase, who glanced at me from the corner of his eye. He gave me a smile. I wondered what was he thinking—possibly plotting an escape? I wouldn't blame him for a second. He'd been a good sport enduring the vegan food and Raley's interrogation.

  Finally Mom asked, "Is everyone ready for dessert?"

  Chase stood up and said, "Yes, Mrs. Featherstone."

  I wasn't sure if he was anxious to eat more or just to get out of there, but we all returned to our seats at the table and Mom served a plate of brownies. She and Raley had coffee, though Chase and I opted for water. Which was totally necessary to wash down the gluten-free, sugar-free squares that were masquerading as dessert. But at least their chewiness prevented much more discussion.

  Luckily dessert didn't linger as long as dinner did, and as soon as he'd licked up the last crumb on his plate, Chase said he needed to be getting home.

  I walked him outside to the front porch, but before I had a chance to shut the door behind me, Mom appeared and held her hand out to Chase.

  "It was a pleasure having you over," she told him. "I hope to see more of you soon."

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Featherstone. I had a good time, and the food was great."

  She beamed and stepped back into the house.

  Chase and I walked to the top step, and I said, "Thanks for being nice about her food. Her style of vegan cuisine doesn't appeal to everyone."

  He shrugged. "I've had worse."

  "Where?" I joked. "Prison?"

  "Nah. The food in prison was great." He gave me a teasing wink before adding, "But thanks for the invite. It was cool to meet your parents."

  "Parent," I clarified. "Raley is just…" I trailed off, searching for the right word. "…just here a lot."

  Chase chuckled. "Sorry. Can't be easy living under the watchful eye of the cops."

  "He doesn't live here," I clarified again. "He's just—"

  "Here a lot?" Chase's eyes twinkled with that amusement again.

  This time I didn't resist the urge at all, my eyeballs going to my hairline.

  "'Night, Featherstone," he said, still chuckling. He stepped off the porch and walked down the street to wherever he'd parked, swallowed up by the darkness before he got there. Within seconds, I heard his engine.