by Addison Fox
Quinn’s forehead wrinkled. “What? It sounds like something my father would take for a hangover.”
He laughed. “It’s a bomb, sweetheart. TATP. Favored by terrorists. They call it Mother of Satan because it’s so volatile to make and you risk blowing yourself up.”
“I can give you something much nicer to think about.” Her smile widened as she crooked a finger at him.
Forget the Mother of Satan. Here was pure heaven. Guilt flickered through him. Quinn didn’t know his real purpose in coming to Red Ridge—to find Demi Colton, the main suspect in the Groom Killer case, who’d fled town months ago right after being initially questioned. Or that he’d been assigned to investigate Quinn and her half brothers to see if they knew where their half sister, Demi, was hiding.
I’ll tell her. Soon.
And then her mouth met his and he forgot about all else.
* * *
Food costs and sex.
Quinn Colton tried hard, and failed, to keep the smile off her face as she bounced down the stairs leading to Good Eats, her catering shop. Sex with West was always fantastic, but this morning added a special, delicious urgency to their lovemaking. Certainly the sex was better than the inventory waiting for her downstairs, along with the stacks of bills for the latest restaurant order.
Thirty years old and in love. Never thought this would happen. Certainly not a whirlwind romance and a lifelong pledge in only three weeks. But her heart knew that West was the one meant for her. They were made for each other.
Quiet and strong, and handsome and rugged as a movie star. Her heart thumped a little bit harder each time he was around.
It hadn’t been love at first sight. More like love at first fight, she thought as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Quinn unlocked the door—her private entrance into the shop—and then locked it behind her. The door opened to her storage area. She skirted two heavy sacks of whole-grain flour and frowned at the mess on the floor. Last week she’d reluctantly laid off Jeb Plimpton, the teenager who swept up and kept her store tidy. More things on her to-do list, when right now all she could think about was adding West to the list, permanently.
West was a muscular, intimidating guy who scowled. Except around her. From the moment the tall, black-haired man with the chocolate-brown eyes had first walked into her shop, sparks had jumped between them. In his low, gravelly voice West had told her he wanted to order a meal to go. Something resembling red meat that isn’t that green sprouts froufrou food I heard you’re known for. Fresh roadkill will suffice. Don’t take it personally, sweetheart.
She’d set a kale smoothie in front of him and told him he needed “foo foo” in his tank because he looked like fresh roadkill. Run over twice. With a backhoe. And he should not “take it personally.”
Instead of sneering, West had laughed.
Her smile grew broader as she recalled that deep, grudging laugh. It had sent a tingle down her spine and a curious desire to coax more from him. She headed into the shop.
Austin Jones was already in the kitchen, lighting the gas range. Tall and wiry, he had been her best friend for ten years, ever since they met while taking cooking classes at the local college. They’d partnered in business together when she’d opened Good Eats, but Quinn remained the principal owner.
“Morning, sunshine,” he greeted her as he straightened and headed over to the counter, where a batch of fresh arugula waited. Austin began chopping and dicing, and snapped his chewing gum.
Quinn wrinkled her nose. “How can you chew that obnoxious stuff? If you’re craving apple pie, bake one.”
Austin patted his flat stomach. “Have to watch the waistline. This may not be dessert, but tastes as good. Apple gum. Besides, I need the wrappers.”
Right. Quinn picked up the foil swan her friend had made. “Future Christmas gift?”
“Don’t knock it. If business keeps going downhill like this, you’ll be lucky to get one.”
As she scanned the kitchen, her smile wilted like the greens she’d had to toss yesterday. “What happened to the Bernstein order? Shouldn’t you get that ready?”
“Canceled. They called this morning and said they were headed home early.”
Oh dear. The Bernsteins, summer visitors to Red Ridge, always hosted a huge end-of-summer bash for one hundred and fifty guests. For the past five summers, Good Eats had been their caterer.
“There will be other summer parties.” Quinn hoped she sounded more buoyant than she felt.
Yesterday they’d had to throw out nearly a case of fruit that had spoiled. Their main business came from healthy fruit and veggie smoothies, but she couldn’t keep paying bills for long on over-the-counter items. The catering end of her business had slid into the red with the Groom Killer on the loose. The news that someone was still murdering grooms before their weddings hadn’t been good for her wedding catering business, either.
Bracing her hands on the counter, she stared at the slim list of catered orders for the week. Quinn had counted on the Bernstein order to make payroll and pay for next week’s wholesale shipment of vegetables.
“How are we going to survive like this?” Austin gave a deep sigh, putting his hand to his chest.
Quinn gave him a playful poke. “If you want dramatics, try out for summer stock. We’ll get by.”
“Such an optimist. Did you pay the rent yet?”
Although the apartment rent was due later than the store rent, Quinn got a discount paying both all at once. “I will.”
If necessary, she’d dip into her savings account.
Austin set down the knife. “Quinn, do you want me to take care of it? I’d hate to see Larson start eviction procedures.”
Noel Larson wouldn’t evict. Not right away. He’d gloat over the fact she owed him, and then squeeze harder, putting pressure on her and humiliating her. Noel and his twin brother were real estate tycoons in Red Ridge. Their reach and their power made them nearly invincible. You didn’t want to mess with them.
“No. Stay away from him. I have the money, Austin, and I don’t want Larson thinking I’m dead broke.” She softened her tone. “I appreciate your offer of help, but you know me. I refuse to hand Larson that kind of power.”
“Pride goeth before homelessness,” he quipped.
She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’d never let that happen.”
Quinn felt warm inside as her thoughts drifted to West. By winter, perhaps she’d be married. Maybe even on her way to starting a family. Humming, she bustled around the kitchen.
Austin’s blue eyes twinkled behind the thick glasses. “You look so...glowing this morning. New boyfriend?”
She wished she could scream about her romance with West from the rooftops, but she couldn’t. For his safety. “I had a love affair with a nuclear reactor,” she teased back. “And a good night’s sleep.”
“I’m glad someone’s happy,” he muttered morosely as he set down the knife and scooped the greens into a bowl. “I can’t seem to get a date with everything going on in this town. At this rate, I’ll be more celibate than a monk on Mars.”
She laughed, and the laugh cut short as she suddenly remembered. West hadn’t used a condom this morning...
They’d been so eager, so tired from their jobs and so careful to make sure no one saw them together, they’d forgotten to be careful that way.
Anxiety arrowed through her. She checked the calendar on her Android phone. Too close to call. Pregnancy wasn’t on her to-do list. No Bullet Journal for that, she thought as she tucked her phone back into the pocket of her apron. Never mind the fact that West stated he didn’t want children, and she did. She longed to have two children, a real family with a mother and father who stuck around, unlike her shiftless dad, Rusty.
Maybe she could change West’s mind about having a family.
I need breakfast if I’m going to deal with t
his. Quinn opened the stainless steel refrigerator and gathered the ingredients for a blueberry-peach smoothie. When it was finished, she took it outside in the cool morning air.
Up and down Main Street, shopkeepers were opening their stores and starting business for the day. Summer business bustled in August with tourists who wanted some late-season fishing or hiking, taking kids to see Mount Rushmore and the Black Hills before shuttling them off to school. But not this year. Maybe the visitors heard about the Groom Killer and decided to stay elsewhere.
The brick facade of her little shop was aged, and gave Good Eats a small-town charm, along with the flower boxes lining the big windows overlooking Main Street. Her store, at the very edge of town, backed onto a wide-open field where there had been talk of developing a shopping center.
Those plans had been abandoned by the developer after business started going south in town.
Quinn had dug into her slim savings and purchased wrought iron bistro tables and chairs where customers could sit outside and enjoy a hot cappuccino or a cold smoothie in the warm weather. Once, the drinks were icing on her store’s financial cake; now they were the entire cake and frosting.
If she didn’t get a big order soon, she and Austin would be in financial trouble.
Never. Austin was her bestie. She needed him in her life as much as she needed West. And her brothers and sister.
Where was Demi?
She had constantly wrestled with worry over her kid sister. A bounty hunter, Demi was tough as nails, fierce, and Quinn couldn’t help wondering if her half sister really had snapped and killed her ex-fiancé and the other grooms. Her ex had been the first victim. There had since been many more. According to the RRPD—many of whom were related to Demi and Quinn in some way—Demi was guilty. Others said she was being framed. All Quinn knew was that Demi was alone out there, supposedly trying to prove her innocence. At least, she’d texted as much to their brother Shane a couple months back.
Since then: radio silence.
What Quinn couldn’t stop thinking about was that when Demi had fled town, she’d been pregnant. She must have had the baby already. Or was about to.
Quinn sipped the shake and set it down on the table. Her phone buzzed and she reached into her apron to pull it out when a tremendous KA-POW split the air, startling her into dropping the cell phone and spilling her drink.
Shaken, she stood up, staring in the direction of the explosion. Her father’s bar was down that way...
In the direction West had taken when he’d kissed her goodbye and then headed for work.
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
ISBN-13: 9781488093159
The Cowboy’s Deadly Mission
Copyright © 2018 by Frances Karkosak
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