“On second thought”—I rise out of my chair as does Everett—“I’m going to ask my mother one more time.”
Everett nods. “But if she says no, we’re coming right back. Believe me, she’s the last person I want to deal with.”
Mr. White Suit laughs it up before giving Everett a commiserating slap to the back. “Sounds good. Go get yourself something good to eat. I’ve got a pastrami sandwich in the microwave. You let yourselves out.” He leaves the door open as he takes off, and I spontaneously wrap my arms around Everett.
“Way to go, Mr. Sexy. You really lived up to your name.” I pull back to get a better look at him. “Hey, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were blushing.”
“I’m not. It’s about two hundred degrees in here. We literally sweated this one out.” He presses his hand into the small of my back as he ushers us to the door. “But I think we make a heck of a team, Lemon.”
“I know we do. And we make a pretty cute couple, too. You were brilliant. I could just kiss you.”
We share a laugh before speeding our way through the strip club. Everett tries to turn his head toward the stage, and I don’t hesitate to swat him.
As soon as we hit daylight, we hightail it to the fast food restaurant across the street where Everett parked his car. I met him at the coffee shop in Ashford as planned, and once we get back, I plan on caffeinating myself back to the land of the living after that near-death experience with the underworld.
“What do you say we blow this one cow town and I buy you a cup a joe, Mr. Sexy?” I tease. Way back when he refused to give me his name, I hung out at the coffee counter and snooped to see what the barista would scrawl onto his cup. It turns out, she had the aforementioned hot-to-trot moniker picked out just for him.
“Mr. Sexy?” a female voice bleats from behind, and we turn to find a haughty redhead tucked in a black pea coat.
“Detective Fairbanks.” I’m so stunned to see her I keep blinking in hopes she’ll evaporate like a bad vision.
She ticks her head to the side with a husky laugh. “Heard it all. The two of you really do make a cute couple.”
My mouth falls open. “You did hear it all, didn’t you?”
She strides our way, her affect hard as flint. “It’s called surveillance, sweetie. The place is tapped. The entire conversation was on blast.”
A thousand scenarios run through my head at once, and all of them involve Noah. The world sways beneath my feet, and I can hardly catch my next breath.
“I swear it’s not what it looks like. You can’t tell Noah.”
A shadowed figure steps out from behind her, and into the light emerges Noah Corbin Fox.
“She doesn’t have to tell me, Lottie.” His voice is calm yet strained. “I heard every last word.”
GAH!
He didn’t hear the part about Mr. Sexy, did he? Because I totally did not mean that. It’s simply a fact that baristas the world over most likely agree upon.
“Noah…” I try to take a step in his direction, but my toes feel as if they’ve screwed themselves into the ground. “I’m so sorry. I—”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand and glares at Everett. “You took her right into the armpit of danger. You could have gotten yourselves killed,” he growls out the words as the cords in his neck distend. Noah charges at Everett and slams him against his SUV before I can process any of it.
“Whoa!” Ivy Fairbanks riots and does her best to pluck Noah right off. “You do not get to screw up my investigation. I’m taking you off the case, Fox.” Her icy stare never leaves his. “And if I see any of you diving back into it, I’ll have you all arrested.” She glares over at Everett. “I expected more out of you.” She looks to Noah. “I’ll give you a lift back to the station if you need it.”
“I accept,” he says, his hard gaze still penetrating mine.
We watch as Ivy Fairbanks and Noah disappear around the corner, and it feels as if my chest implodes, crushing my heart completely.
“I’ve ruined everything,” I whisper, my entire body numb to the world. “It’s over.”
Something tells me, Noah and I will never recover.
Chapter 29
Days drone by, and no matter how much I text, visit his office, or stalk at his house, Noah Fox always has a seemingly good reason why we can’t meet up.
Apparently, his cases have given birth to baby cases, and he’s up all night with those, too. He doesn’t have a free moment to spare for me it seems. I can’t blame him. Here he was giving me the best his lips had to offer and how did I repay him? By doing exactly what he kindly asked me not to do—with his sexy stepbrother no less.
Darn Everett for having such an adorable and frighteningly accurate moniker. Not that this is all Everett’s fault. As it turns out, he’s not so pleased with me either. Everett has been busy these past few days, too, and for that I’m feeling thankful. I’m also thankful that the bakery has been filled to the brim at all hours of every day. At least this way I’m too busy baking up a storm and eating my feelings to digest what a dumpster fire I’ve managed to turn my life into.
An ear-piercing cackle comes from the large group near the window. Apparently, Naomi Turner has started up a naughty book club for the pre-menopausal—her word choice, not mine, and the who’s who of said non-hormonally challenged age bracket is all present and accounted for.
Lily Swanson, Naomi’s mean and bitter bestie, sits dutifully by her left side. And ensconcing the queen of mean on her right is my bestie, Keelie, who apologized through the roof for not getting their sleazy read to me in time to participate. But she did politely point out that while they were doling out the bawdy book, I was up to my eyeballs trying to solve poor Merilee’s murder last month. Speaking of Merilee, her cousin, Cascade, is here cackling right along with the rest of them. With that long, dark hair of hers and her penchant for crushed velvet, she seems to be carrying on the legacy of the Simonson sisters nicely. Ellen Rawlings from the bank showed up. She hasn’t stopped showing off those illuminated teeth of hers since she sat down. Funny, I’ve never once seen her smile during our banal monetary transactions. Nice to know she’s capable. Darlene Grand, whose family owns the apple orchard, and Janet Darren, Travis Darren’s lookalike sister, sit attentively as if there will be a quiz later—and knowing Naomi, and her need for dominance, there might be. Travis Darren was the one dating Merilee and Mora Anne at the very same time—thus driving Mora Anne to the brink of insanity. He’s basically the primary reason Merilee was stabbed to death by her sister. Some men are heartbreakers. Travis was quite literally a heart taker in a roundabout way.
Collette Jenner shoots me a sharp look from over her shoulder, and I can’t help but snarl at her slightly. Collette can’t seem to keep her paws off of her legal eagle ex, and, yet, Everett has said a thousand times he’s not interested in pursuing anything romantic with her again. Some people just can’t take the hint. Speaking of which, it reminds me. I need to text Noah again at some point today. You never know when his schedule will free up.
Lainey waves me over, and I can’t help but think she’s a little traitor. I’ll admit, it stung a bit not to be included on this innovated literary effort that just about every woman from Honey Hollow in my age group seems to be a part of. I grab my carafe and head on over. Lainey is seated next to Molly McMurry, so I’ll hold any snippy comments for later. I’m still blown away by the fact Molly wants me to provide all the cupcakes for the Fall-O-Ween event next week, and the last thing I want is for her to see me sporting a bad attitude.
“More coffee, ladies?” I hold up my carafe, but they’re all too engrossed in the steamy passage they’re dissecting to notice me, so I do a quick round of refills anyhow.
The bell tied to the door chimes and in breezes a pale Micheline Roycroft with her copy of Fit to be Tied in her hand as she breezes to the seat next to my sister.
“Did I miss anything?” Her entire face brightens as she smiles up at me. I’d swear her smi
le just warmed the whole place. The last few times I’ve seen Micheline she’s looked miserable beyond recognition. I guess she’s coming to terms with Hunter’s death, as she should.
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But they’ve been here for an hour and there have been lots of spontaneous outbursts of—” I’m about to say laughter just when the room explodes with wild cackles once again.
Chrissy Nash and Eve Hollister amble in and give the younger sect the stink eye.
I head over and take their orders, two lattes, two chocolate-filled croissants, an order that’s quickly becoming their usual.
Eve leans over to Chrissy. Eve’s salt and peppered curls are certainly looking more salt these days than pepper. “I suppose our blood pressure is too high to be a part of that club,” she huffs, indignant.
Chrissy, a fit blonde whom the mayor dumped because, well, let’s face it, he’s an idiot, chortles away. “I’m guessing you’re right. I guess it’s a good thing that our book club meets at the B&B this month.” She looks my way. “Your mother is hosting a haunted high tea.”
“Sounds delightful.” I know all about it because my mother has put me in charge of providing all the petit fours for the aforementioned event. “And what book will you ladies be reading? A steamy historical romance, perhaps?”
Eve smirks as she waves me off. “You know us all too well, Lottie. The Duke’s Haunted Bedchamber has been steaming up my glasses for weeks.”
Chrissy’s mouth falls open. “Since when does it take you weeks to finish a book?”
“It doesn’t. I’m on my third go-round. Some books are so hauntingly delish they deserve a reread or two. Besides, with my house in shambles, I’ve nothing better to do than read by the fire.”
“Still working on the remodel?” I ask. It’s a well-known fact that Eve Hollister’s retrofitting of her mansion has been going on for a small eternity.
“There’s no end to it, Lottie. For the love of all that is holy, do not invest in a fixer.”
A dull laugh thumps in my chest. A fixer to Eve would be a model home to most.
I hand them their coffee and croissants and sigh dreamily at that house across from Noah’s with its white picket railing. I haven’t heard word back, but a part of me wonders if Noah has told the realtor to forget it. There’s no way he wants to live in close proximity to me after that fiasco down in Leeds. Face it, I’m the fiasco he wants no part of.
The book club commences, and all dozen or so of them stand at once.
Naomi claps the murmuring crowd back into submission. “The next book we’re reading is The Thankful Subservient. I think it will tie in nicely with Thanksgiving.”
“Get it? Tie in?” Lily guffaws right in her bestie’s face, but Naomi is quick to brush her off.
Collette Jenner pulls on a black pea coat, and her bright orange curls cascade off the back. The black and orange give off a Halloween vibe that I’m sure she wasn’t going for, but she is scary. I’ll give her that.
“You never let us pick our next read. We should take it to a vote.” Collette dares defy the head witch of this unholy coven.
But Naomi doesn’t flinch. “We don’t need a vote. The books I pick are fantastic. Did I let anyone down with this month’s selection?”
A round of approving giggles circles the small crowd before it officially disbands.
I waste no time in picking up a platter of fresh oatmeal cookies with adorable iced spider webs over the tops and head over to Micheline, but Lily Swanson gets in my way.
“The sign in the front says you’re hiring, and I want in.” Her large, glossy, green eyes look as if they’re about to pop with anticipation. “Rumor has it, that hot judge keeps hanging around. And, seeing that I’m newly single”—so another rumor is true, she’s up and dumped Travis—“I can use a handsome man with a hefty paycheck.”
I can’t help but frown. I’m about to shut down the gold digger in front of me when—although I have no doubt she’s attracted to Everett—she is right, he is a rather hot commodity—Keelie bubbles her way over.
“Yes!” Keelie threads her arm through Lily’s. “The bakery is running off fumes from the Honey Pot, and we so need our staff back. Can you bake?”
Lily shudders as if the concept offended her. “No, but I can run a register like it’s nobody’s business.”
“You’re hired.” Keelie doesn’t waste a moment as she whisks her away. “I just need you to fill out an application, and then I’ll assign you some hours.”
So much for discerning the right people to populate the bakery with.
Micheline whips on her jacket, and I quickly dash in front of her before she has the chance to leave. I just have to know if she’s aware of any girlfriend Hunter might have had who happened to be a mother. I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of anyone in Honey Hollow who fits the description but come up with blanks.
“Oatmeal cookie?” I hold the platter in front of her, and she’s quickly overcome by the heavy scent of cinnamon and vanilla.
“My God, these smell divine.” She snaps one off the tray and indulges in a moaning bite. “So good. I’d say you really should sell these, but you beat me to it.” A tiny dimple imbeds itself into her cheek as she grins.
As much as I loathe to ruin her good mood, Hunter’s murder investigation is growing colder by the moment, so I dive right in. “Hey, I heard a funny rumor about Hunter, and I wondered if you heard it, too.” I wrinkle my nose while playing up the chagrinned angle. “Was he dating someone with a kid? I mean, it’s no big deal, but Hunter and I were pretty close, and he’s always liked kids, so I wondered why he never mentioned it.”
Her naturally pasty complexion turns a bright shade of pomegranate, and I can’t help but think I’ve stumbled upon something big. Either that or I’ve just shocked her so badly there won’t be enough spider web iced oatmeal cookies in the world to revive her.
“He”—a croaking sound emits from her throat as if she were deciding which lane she wanted to get into—“he was seeing someone.” She closes her eyes a moment and shakes her head as if she couldn’t believe she had to go there—as if she couldn’t believe he had to go there. “It was stupid. Some stripper from Leeds.”
I suck in a quick breath, trying my best to think on my feet. “The one from Red Satin?” Brill! Suddenly, I’m thankful for my minute knowledge of all things scantily clad.
“No”—she bats her eyes to the ceiling as if trying to remember the name and, dear God, I pray she remembers the name—“it was Girls Unlimited.” Her lips purse with disgust. “Anyway, that was a bigger deal than he intended it to be. You might even say it was the nail in our casket.” She winces. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be disrespectful.” Micheline’s whole affect shifts, and suddenly she looks crestfallen. “I’d better get going.” She snaps another cookie off the tray. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Lottie.”
“No problem.” A good friend who pumps a grieving girl for info. Some good friend I am.
Lainey comes up, and I manufacture a smile for my sister. “Are you free tonight?”
“Yeah, why?” Her brows dip as she sinks her suspicion my way.
“You might want to let your hair down and leave your reading glasses at home. We’re headed to a strip club in Leeds.”
Naomi and Collette Jenner scuttle over with their eyes agog.
“I’m in.” Naomi doesn’t miss a topless beat.
“Me, too,” Collette gruffs it out as if she’s angry about it before stalking to the door. “Naomi, text me with the details. I’ve got a board meeting all afternoon, and God knows I’ll need to unwind.” A salacious grin rides up her cheeks. “I’m all for an appetizer before I sink my teeth into Judge Baxter’s neck.” She bares her fangs as she speeds into the chilled autumn air.
“She’s quite the vampire,” Lainey notes. “So, what’s with the strip club? Two men not enough for you, lady?” She shakes her shoulders in a suggestive manner. Good Lord, Lainey really is in tr
aining to become my mother.
Keelie shuffles over, nearly tripping over a chair. “Did someone say strip club? Dear God up in heaven, you are not going without me. You’ll need a tour guide who speaks the language and knows where to put the dollar bills!”
Lainey chortles. “I didn’t know you speak banana hammock?”
The three of them share a titillating laugh.
Little do they know there won’t be a banana hammock in sight at Girls Unlimited. I may not know which stripper Hunter dated, but I do know she’s got a kid. That should narrow the field significantly.
I have a feeling I’m about to split this case wide open with a stripper pole.
Noah bounces through my mind. I know for a fact he wouldn’t want me digging back into the investigation, but then we’re technically not speaking so he doesn’t really have a say.
Keelie and Naomi screech with laughter at something Lainey says, and I cringe.
Something tells me Girls Unlimited will be one banana hammock short of what they’re looking for.
Chapter 30
“What do you mean every stripper in here has a kid?” I shout above the music to the bartender I’ve enlisted to help me find Hunter’s mystery girl.
I shoot a quick glance to Lainey, Naomi, Keelie, and Collette who sulk at a table nearby. Not one of them is hooting and hollering at deafening decibels the way they threatened to on the way over. Suffice it to say, I’ll have to bake a batch of banana hammock muffins just to get back in their good graces.
“That’s what I said.” The bald and brawny bartender tatted from the neck down continues cleaning out a glass with a dishrag. It’s so dimly lit in this seedy establishment, save for the stage where the girls working hard for a dollar have an entire bevy of spotlights dancing around them. “They’ve all got kids. What else you got on her?”
Crap. The music is so loud it sounds as if a jet engine has suddenly decided to spit out rap tunes. Although, I’m slightly grateful for the scent of fries permeating the air. The first thing I did when we got seated was order a round for the table. Who knew they served appetizers here? Hey? Maybe I can work out a deal for weekly cookie deliveries? But, at the moment, I’m coming up short on what cookie goes best with beer.
Murder in the Mix Books 1-3 (Murder in the Mix Boxed Set) Page 23
