Signed, Sealed, Fatal, I'm Yours

by Lucy Quinn

  Cookie’s opinion of him thawed. Despite his illegal shenanigans, it was clear Stone had a good heart… not unlike Rain. She scribbled her number down on the back of a Ship It business card and handed it to him. “This is the number for the inn. Don’t hesitate to call if you think of anything else. Anything at all. Okay?”

  He nodded. “Will do.”

  She pushed away from the counter and turned on her heel. “Thanks. Come on, Mom,” she said, heading for the exit.

  Rain whispered something to Stone, then hurried after Cookie and called over her shoulder, “Bye, Stone. See you later!”

  Cookie gave her mother an incredulous look, certain whatever she’d whispered to Stone had been inappropriate at best, or more likely, bordering on illegal. But instead of interrogating her mother, she shook her head and let it go. Nothing good could come from learning Rain’s secrets. Just as long as her mother didn’t make them public, everything would be fine.

  “You don’t think he had anything to do with it, do you?” Rain asked once they were back outside.

  Cookie sighed. “No, not really.” Which was the truth. Stone wasn’t exactly a model citizen, but he’d been eaten up by guilt over the accidental death he’d caused last year. If he’d killed Fleet, he’d be falling apart by now. Couple that with the fact that his movements were being monitored, and she was almost certain he’d had nothing to do with it.

  But at least she now had some sort of a lead, even if she didn’t know exactly how to start looking for the carrottop.

  Her stomach rumbled, and she glanced up at the sky, where the sun was already beginning to set. Time to go home, have some dinner, and think about what to do next.

  And how she could ditch her mother in the process.

  7

  Cookie woke the next morning to the sound of something crashing downstairs. She bolted upright in her bed, her heart racing. Her room was on the third floor of the inn. Anything loud enough to reach her hideaway sent her alarm bells ringing. Without a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled out of bed, grabbed her pistol from the drawer in her nightstand, and ran downstairs.

  “Mom!” she called, all of her senses on full alert. The sun shining through the front window nearly blinded her as reached the first floor. But she didn’t hesitate when she heard another, smaller crash come from the kitchen, followed by a high-pitched cry.

  Rain.

  Cookie’d know her squawk anywhere. She slid to a stop just outside the door that led to the kitchen. Holding her gun with both hands, the barrel pointed up toward the ceiling, she kicked the door open with one foot, twisted to stand in the threshold, and pointed her gun as she did a quick sweep of the area. She spotted her mother’s baking rack on its side with spice bottles and canisters of dry goods scattered all over the tile, no doubt the result of the crash that had woken her.

  “Hands up!” Rain cried, dropping a plate that went crashing to the floor.

  “Aww, man. Not the chocolate Mary Janes,” a tall, thin man moaned and, completely ignoring Cookie and her gun, stooped to gather what appeared to be freshly-baked brownies.

  Correction—special freshly baked brownies, Cookie thought as her mother started to giggle.

  Cookie lowered her weapon and sighed. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” she asked her mother pointedly as she cut her gaze to the pile of brownies the man was loading onto a fresh plate.

  “It’s never too early to chill out, dear.” Rain took one of the brownies from her partner in crime, and added, “Right, Jeremy?”

  “Right, Rain.” The wasp of a man cocked his head to the side and said, “Right as rain, Rain.” Then he snorted before threw his head back with laughter.

  “Hear that, Cookie? I’m right as rain.” Her mother took a big bite of brownie, then plopped down on one of the stools and promptly slid off and toppled to the floor.

  The pair of them laughed so hard, they started crying. Cookie was tempted to just back out of the room, leaving the two of them to their own devices. But something about the unfamiliar man made her stay put. What had her mother called him? Jeremy?

  Jeremy Lassiter, perhaps? He was certainly thin enough to match the description Lester had given them. And wouldn’t it be just like Rain to befriend someone Cookie was going to question in a murder investigation?

  “Mother,” Cookie said in a stern tone. “Could you get up off the floor? I’d really appreciate a moment of your time… in private.”

  “Sure, honey.” Her mother hauled herself to her feet, but instead of moving toward Cookie, she held her hand out to Jeremy. “Time to get up off the floor, old man.”

  “Who are you calling old?” he asked, giving her a mock glare. “There’s no skin sagging under these clothes.” He tugged at the hem of his button-down shirt. “I’d be happy to give you a sneak peek if you’d like.”

  Rain blushed and waved him off. “Not a good idea. My daughter over there isn’t really into the nude thing. I’m not even certain she’s seen a naked man this decade. She’s a late bloomer.”

  “Oh for the love of…” Cookie shook her head.

  “Relax, sweetie,” Rain said, waving her hand. “I’ve already gotten the skinny on Jeremy here.” She cupped her hand around one side of her mouth and mock whispered, “He wasn’t even on the island the last week and a half. He was at his annual nudist retreat. Has pictures and everything.” She held a hand out to Jeremy. “Give me your phone. She has to see this.”

  Cookie held her hand up. “No. I absolutely do not need to see any pictures from that phone.”

  “Not even so you can see proof he’s been out of town?” Rain asked, her face all innocence.

  After slowly counting to five, Cookie let out a long breath. “Mom? The living room please?”

  “Someone’s in trouble,” Jeremy said in a sing-song voice.

  “Pfft. She never stays mad for long.” Rain winked at Jeremy, and then with her head held high, she followed her daughter into the other room.

  Cookie moved into the living room and stood with her hands on her hips. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was helping,” her mother said, her eyes glassy and slightly bloodshot. “Now you don’t have to question him. And aren’t you proud? All I had to do was bake him some brownies to get him talking. He really couldn’t stand Fleet. Said, he was tired of the old hippy’s righteous protesting. Claims Fleet was just doing it to impress Winnie. But we know better, right?” Rain grinned. “I mean, once a hippy always a hippy.”

  Rain would know. She’d always been a fan of the peace and love movement. “You really shouldn’t have contacted him, mom. What if he’d been dangerous? Didn’t you hear Lester? He said he’d gotten mean.”

  “I didn’t contact him. I ran into him at the grocery first thing this morning. He’s the one who approached me about… um, the brownies. Since I’m a quick thinker, I invited him back to try my new batch. Smart of me, right?”

  Cookie just raised a skeptical eyebrow.

  “Anyway, after the brownies were done and we’d sampled a few, we got to talking and that’s when I learned he’d gone to Bare Naked Colonies down in Florida. You should see that place. Warm beaches and tanned, fit bodies. Okay, some—a lot—were pretty saggy, but still. Whoa.” She fanned herself. “Talk about silver foxes. Winter and I are gonna have to book us a trip down there soon.”

  “What about Hale?” Cookie asked, not bothering to hide the judgement in her tone.

  “Seeing is not touching, Cookie. Gosh, you really are wound up tight. You should probably let Dylan take care of that for you.” She pumped her eyebrows. “Speaking of Dylan, don’t you two have a date today?”

  Cookie glanced at the wall clock. It was just a few minutes before ten. Whoa, she’d really slept in late. No wonder her mother had found time to not only go to the grocery store, but to also bake an entire batch of spiked brownies. “Yes. We have a lunch date.”

  “You better start getting ready then.” Her mother pushed her tow
ard the stairs. “You want to look nice, don’t you?”

  “Lunch isn’t for another two hours,” Cookie protested.

  “I know, sweetie. But you need time to shave your legs. You don’t want to be caught with stubble once Dylan gets you out of your—”

  “Enough.” Cookie shook her head, not sure if she should laugh or scream. Living with Rain was a nonstop circus sometimes. “I can manage my own grooming, thank-you-very-much.”

  “Of course you can. But don’t forget to pluck your eyebrows. Stray weeds are starting to pop up, if you know what I mean.”

  Cookie chose to ignore that last remark and instead asked, “You’re sure Jeremy was out of town for the last week and a half?”

  Her mother crossed her heart over her Kiss the Cook apron. “Positive. His photos were date stamped.”

  “All right then.” Cookie glanced at the kitchen once more and decided she really didn’t need to talk to Jeremy. Especially since he wasn’t exactly of sound mind at the moment. “Thanks for the intel. Now, maybe you can get him out of kitchen before you two break anything else?”

  Her mother raised her hand to her forehead and gave Cookie a sloppy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

  “And lay off the brownies,” Cookie called as she retreated back up the stairs, resigned to do some serious grooming.

  “Hey, you.” The deep, gravelly voice with its rich local accent came from the man leaning against the wall of the Salty Dog.

  A smile broke out on Cookie’s face as soon as she spotted him. Not that any woman alive could possibly blame her for mooning over such a man. With his sexy stubble, lively blue eyes, and short, wind-ruffled dark hair, he was darn-near irresistible. She let her gaze flicker over his well-muscled build evident even beneath his jeans, flannel shirt, and heavy coat, and wondered again how she’d ended up lucky enough to be dating the incredibly sexy Dylan Creed. But Cookie also knew the kind and solid man behind those looks, and that made him infinitely more attractive.

  “Hey, yourself,” she replied, sauntering up to the building. When she got close enough, he reached out and hooked his index fingers through the belt loops of her jeans, tugging her in against him. Cookie let out a surprised yelp, her face burning from an uncontrollable blush as she felt his solidity and heat right through their combined clothing. She had to throw her hands out in front of her to keep from slamming into him, but that motion quickly morphed into her looping her arms around his neck and pulling him in closer.

  Their lips met, and all Cookie could think about was the kiss that was sending sparklers of energy from her head right to the tip of her toes. The world stopped, everything else faded away, and all that was left was her, this man, and the incredible connection between them.

  After what seemed like an eternity, yet not nearly long enough, he pulled back ever so slightly, just far enough to catch her gaze. The skin around his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “I guess you missed me,” he said with a sexy rumble.

  “What? No,” Cookie protested, making like she wanted to push away from him, which only made him tighten his hold on her. “That’s how I greet every guy in this town.”

  “Really?” His brows lowered. “Guess I’d better start roughing up my neighbors, then. Can’t have anyone else putting hands—or lips—on my girl.”

  “Your girl, huh?” Cookie leaned in so that her forehead was pressed against his, and their eyes were so close she could feel his long lashes brushing against her cheek. “So who’re you going to start with?”

  “Hm.” He frowned, thinking. “I guess I should start with the guy you’re most attracted to, after me. Can’t have you running to him every time we get in a fight, or figuring you can have your cake and eat it, too.” He sighed. “Poor Deputy Swan. He’ll never know what hit him.”

  That did it—Cookie doubled over laughing, nearly slamming their heads together in the process. “Oh, yeah, right, you totally have me pegged,” she managed to gasp out between snorts. “And you two are so much alike, too.”

  Dylan grinned at her. “It’s uncanny, isn’t it?” He struck a mock manly pose, deliberately jutting out his chin and chest in an exaggerated fashion—perfectly emulating Swan. “Like peas in a pod.”

  “Speaking of peas,” Cookie said, finally recovering enough to straighten up again. “We should go grab seats. I’m starving.” It was nearly noon, and because her mother had been entertaining Jeremy Lassiter, she’d only managed one cup of coffee and hadn’t eaten breakfast. The kitchen had been in too much disarray for her to brave making anything.

  Dylan gave no sign of moving from his current perch. “I have a better idea,” he said instead. “Stay right there.” Cookie cocked an eyebrow at him. Dylan went inside the Salty Dog and quickly returned holding a take-out bag. “I thought we could take ours to go.”

  “Oh? And where exactly are we going?”

  His grin widened as he answered. “Absolutely nowhere. And we’re not in any hurry to get there, either.” He crooked his unencumbered arm, offering it to her. “Shall we?”

  With a giggle, Cookie wrapped her hand around his bicep and nodded. “By all means, lead on,” she replied and continued to laugh as he led her away from the restaurant and down toward the docks. She wasn’t too surprised when they made their way to a small, slightly beat-up-looking motorboat, nor when Dylan hopped across first and then offered her a hand. She climbed onto the boat and took her spot across from him in the captain’s chair. Completely content with whatever he had planned, she relaxed into her seat and didn’t ask any questions while he motored out into the harbor.

  Besides, it really didn’t matter where they went—or didn’t go—as long as they were together.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” Cookie said, glancing out over the water. The winter day had dawned crisp and clear, void of any wind, and now the sun was high overhead, providing some welcome warmth and turning all the water around them into a single sheet of gleaming, shimmering silver. It was like they were floating on a plane of quicksilver, without any land as far as the eye could see.

  “It is,” Dylan agreed, finishing the last of his lobster roll and wiping his mouth with a napkin. His smile was less mischievous and more relaxed than it had been outside the Salty Dog. “I thought we could both use a break, just to sit and chill and enjoy.”

  Cookie leaned back, arms splayed out to either side, and angled her head up, eyes closed, so that the sun beat down upon her face. “You’re right about that.” She sighed. “This new case is going to drive me nuts.”

  “New case?” Dylan asked, and she could hear the invitation in his tone—not pushing, but just letting her know that he was happy to listen.

  So she told him all about Fleet and his death by poisoning, and about talking to Lester, Peaches, and Stone. “I need to speak to Winnie too, but after that I’m a bit stuck,” she admitted when she was done. “Unless Jared’s found something new by then.”

  Even though her eyes were still closed, she could feel Dylan shaking his head. “That’s a real shame about Fleet,” he said. “He was a great guy, one of the last old-school gentlemen. He and Lester taught me and a bunch of the other kids how to swim and fish and boat when we were younger. They used to take us out in small groups and show us how it was done, one step at a time. Neither of them ever had kids, and I always felt like they claimed all of us as surrogates instead.” She heard the rasp of him scratching his beard, and she knew he was pausing to collect his thoughts. “He’s going to be missed.”

  She frowned, tossing her hair back out of her face as she asked, “I wish I had an idea who might’ve done it.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” Dylan assured her. “But in the meantime, let’s enjoy our date, far away from the shore and our phones and your latest case.” He reached down under his seat and drew out a flat, square, white cardboard box. “I even convinced Mrs. Ledger to bake us a pumpkin pie.”

  “Mrs. Ledger is the best!” Cookie enthused, sitting up straight as Dylan also produced a pair
of plates, a pair of forks, and a serving knife. This time she was the one who grinned at him. “And you’re not so bad, either.”

  “Well, I’d be a lot more hurt by that if I didn’t know the power of Mrs. Ledger’s pies firsthand,” he responded, his eyes twinkling, and Cookie felt the little bit of tension ease from her shoulders. Dylan was right—their concerns would still be waiting when they got back, but in the meantime they were just a guy and a girl, afloat in a boat on a beautiful day.

  Right now, she really couldn’t ask for anything more.

  “I’m amazed that you can even walk right now,” Dylan commented as the two of them strolled back up the hill toward the inn a full two hours later. “You put away more than half of that pie all on your own.”

  “Well, my appetite for sweets is legendary,” Cookie agreed, laughing and tying her long thick hair back. “But I think all that boating worked up an appetite.”

  “It’s not like you were rowing,” he said, his eyes gleaming as a smirk claimed his lips. “We had a motor. And I drove. Unless your arm is aching from lifting the fork, I’m not certain you can claim exertion. Though, your pie-eating performance was impressive.”

  “You would’ve eaten that whole pie all on your own, if I’d given you the chance,” Cookie said. “I was just saving you from yourself.”

  They both laughed, their hands joined between them as they walked. The day had warmed a little, and although it was still crisp, Cookie was quite comfortable on the mid-January afternoon. Content and happy. It was a feeling she realized she’d never really quite achieved before and it made her want to curl up with Dylan in the warmth of her home. A vision of them tucked away in her bedroom flashed in her mind, and butterflies fluttered in her belly at the thought.

  Dylan had been in her room plenty of times, but only when he’d been fixing something for her. She’d yet to invite him up since they’d officially started dating. And it definitely wasn’t because she didn’t want to, because Lord knew every single part of her was all for it. But that was a big step, and Cookie had already decided to take things slow.