Somebody Like You: A Sugar Shack Novel

by Candis Terry

  SOMEBODY LIKE YOU

  A Sugar Shack Novel

  CANDIS TERRY

  DEDICATION

  This one’s for you, Mom,

  because you always believed in me and told me I could do anything I wanted.

  Sorry if I sometimes took that literally and ended up on restriction.

  Love you.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A special thank-you to Rachel Gibson. For seventeen years you’ve been my friend, my confidant, my mentor. How can I ever thank you enough? Lifting my glass to many more martinis, laughs, and good times!

  A heartfelt hug to my readers, who took on the challenge of a new author. You gave the Sugar Shack life, and you are what keeps me going on those long, solitary nights at the keyboard.

  Once again I need to thank my family, who has been so patient with my busy schedule. Especially my husband, who never reads anything except the newspaper and hunting magazines. Yet he devoured my first book in just two days and became an advocate for not only my books but all romance novels. You are a king among men. And, yes, you may keep your man card.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  An Excerpt from Second Chance at the Sugar Shack

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  An Excerpt from Any Give Christmas

  Chapter One

  About the Author

  Also by Candis Terry

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  Kelly Silverthorne despised killers.

  Especially the type who possessed the charm of a movie star that belied the icy heart of the snake that beat in their chest.

  “I think it’s dead.”

  Jarred from the dark images in her head, Kelly looked up at her fellow Chicago prosecutor, Daniel Bluhm. A streak of sunlight shot through the window of the deli and glimmered in his golden hair. While they awaited word that the jury had reached a verdict in the Colson murder case, lunch had seemed a good idea. The nerves coiled in her stomach said otherwise. “Excuse me?”

  “Your potato salad.” Daniel pointed to her plate. “Or maybe I should call it lumpy soup.”

  Kelly glanced down at the fork in her hand and the mess she’d made of what had once been a tasty side dish. She dropped the utensil to her plate and glanced around the old-fashioned restaurant and the retro decorations that adorned the walls. “Sorry.”

  A smile crossed his mouth before he stuffed in the last bite of his patty melt. “Nervous?”

  She nodded.

  “You did a hell of a job with closing arguments.”

  “Daniel?” Kelly sipped her Diet Pepsi and wiped her mouth with the paper napkin. “I don’t know if I mentioned this or not, but this murder case we’ve been working on for more than a year? The case in which I pushed for an arrest and prosecution against the state attorney’s better judgment? The case I swore we had enough evidence to get a conviction?”

  “You mean the case that’s been plastered all over the real and entertainment news networks?”

  “Yes!” Her eyes widened in feigned surprise, and she pointed at him with the straw in her soda. “That one. In case I forgot to tell you, it involves a popular movie star–like senator and a glamorous cast member of The Real Housewives of Chicago. By the time I wrapped up, the jury looked at me like I’d kicked their dog.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Her partner chuckled. “We went in prepared. We had forensics, motive, and—”

  “No body.” She shrugged. “Bottom line, Bluhm. No. Body.” Kelly grabbed a french fry off his plate and shoved it into her mouth.

  “Hey. No fair eating my food because you trashed your own.”

  “Partners share.”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Some partners would like to share even more.”

  Kelly playfully poked his hand with her fork. “Not gonna happen, Romeo.”

  “You’re killing me, Silverthorne.” He leaned back in his chair. His sharp blue eyes focused on her face, much the way they focused on a defendant he intended to break. “I’ve been asking you out for two years. When are you going to cut me some slack and let me take you on a date? I promise dinner, a movie, the whole shebang. I’ll even be a gentleman, even though it might kill me.”

  She laughed at the exaggerated whine in his tone. “Daniel. You are a really nice—”

  “No.” Comically he covered his face with both hands. “Do not give me the friends speech.”

  His reaction sent her into a fit of laughter, which helped to ease the tension churning the tuna-salad sandwich in her stomach. Her phone chimed. She and Daniel looked at each other before she picked it up and checked the text message. “Jury’s in.”

  One golden brow lifted. “Two hours to deliberate?”

  Kelly nodded.

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.” She tossed her napkin on the table and grabbed the check. “Let’s go.”

  It took another two hours for the media to be notified and for everyone to reassemble in the courtroom. Kelly had stood outside in the warm June sunshine until the last possible moment. Praying. Searching for a lucky penny on the ground or a stray rabbit’s foot. Heck, if it meant a conviction, she’d haul a whole danged bunny into the courtroom.

  Her high heels clicked on the marble floor as she passed through security, headed toward the elevator, and pressed the button. She reviewed the trial in her head while the floor numbers lit up like Christmas lights. With the exception of admitting two questionable exhibits into evidence, she’d done everything possible to nail Andrew Colson for the murder of his wife, Alicia. Over the past year Kelly had given meticulous consideration to the evidence. She’d role-played. She’d spent hours and hours at the law library looking up comparable cases. She’d interviewed dozens of character witnesses. By the time she and Daniel had the case packaged and ready to present, she’d been confident they’d get a conviction.

  Two hours to deliberate.

  An icy chill shot up her back as the elevator doors slid open.

  She wished she felt that confident now.

  Inside the courtroom she set down her expandable briefcase and returned the anxious regard Daniel gave her when their gazes met. She sat down and busied herself with collecting her notes and her thoughts. Minutes later the defendant in his Armani suit and expensive haircut strolled in with his high-powered attorneys. He cast an arrogant glance toward the already seated jury then sat down and leaned back, as though he was in a bar waiting for his scotch.

  Geez, couldn’t the guy even pretend to be human? After all, this was a trial for the murder of his wife. A woman he had pledged to honor and cherish all the days of their lives. His two children were now motherless, and, if Kelly had done her job, they would be fatherless, too. In a moment of sheer compassion, she felt bad about that. Not for the defendant, but for the children who would grow up forever wondering what had really happened to the woman who poured their cereal every day, taxied them to soccer practice, and tucked them into bed at night.

  Kelly
slid her gaze across the courtroom to where Alicia Colson’s family sat together, holding hands like linked chains. They would be there for the kids. Thank god for that.

  Judge Reginald Dawson entered, and the courtroom stood until he was seated. Kelly gripped her pen in her hand and mentally began her customary chant.

  He is guilty. He will pay. He is guilty. He will pay.

  “Has the jury reached a verdict?” Judge Dawson’s deep voice boomed through the packed room.

  The jury foreman stood and sweat broke out on the back of Kelly’s neck.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Has the jury signed the appropriate verdict form? If so, please provide them to Deputy Southwick who will then present them to me.”

  As Judge Dawson opened the envelope and silently reviewed the documents, Kelly crossed her ankles and squeezed them together. Her heart pounded.

  The judge passed the papers to the court clerk, who then began to read, “We, the jury in the above titled action, find the defendant . . .”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Defendant not guilty.

  They were only three words. But for Kelly they were three words that had taken all the wonderful things she believed about life and made them hideous.

  Surrounded by the scent of caramel, and chocolate, and cinnamon-raisin bread warm from the oven, Kelly propped her head up with one hand and shoveled another bite of chocolate chip cheesecake into her mouth with the other. When the golden retriever at her feet begged for a taste, Kelly guarded her plate like security at Fort Knox.

  “Dream on, pooch.”

  The smooth dessert melted in her mouth while she studied the small office in which she’d sequestered herself a little over an hour ago. A calendar on the wall designated “Sweet Sale” days at the Sugar Shack, the bakery established by her parents, now run by her kid sister, Kate. On the dinged-up desk sat a faded photo of her parents’ wedding thirty-six years ago, and a photo of Kate’s wedding to Matt, the new sheriff of Deer Lick, Montana, taken just seven short months ago. Ceiling-to-floor shelves lined the back wall where a rainbow of sugar sprinkles, edible sparkles, and candy crunches lined up cap-to-cap next to an array of both PG- and X-rated cake pans. Enormous differences existed between the Silverthorne women. While her mother had once created basic cakes with buttercream icing, her sister Kate’s creations reflected her imaginative and often racy specialty cakes. Kelly, though she had a talent for making kickass fudge, couldn’t fashion a buttercream rose to save her life.

  She glanced back up to her parents’ wedding photo and studied the faded print of her mother, who’d died suddenly last fall. Mixed emotions rumbled around inside her heart as she thought of the last time she’d spoken to the woman who’d given her life. Well, the last time she’d heard her mother’s voice. Kelly had placed her scheduled weekly call expecting their conversation would go as usual. Fluff calls she’d come to name them, because they’d contained little more than generalities.

  On that last call her mother had been too busy to talk. Several days later she’d returned the call, but Kelly had been in court and unable to talk. It seemed like that had become the pattern of their relationship. Mom was always too busy, and when she’d find time Kelly would be unable to connect.

  Kelly shoveled in another bite of cheesecake, closed her eyes, and swallowed her guilt. She’d worked in this bakery beside her family from the time she’d been old enough to hold a mixing spoon until the day she’d left for Northwestern University. Today, the place felt foreign, and isolation echoed in her soul.

  Her fault.

  Like the inexorable loss of her mother, the events of the past month slammed through her head as if she still stood on that courtroom floor fighting for a piece of justice that would be denied. Fighting for the rights of a woman whose life had been ripped away by a monster. A fiend now able to roam free because she hadn’t convinced the jury of his crime.

  Her fault.

  She’d pushed for that arrest. Pushed for an indictment with the grand jury. Pushed for a homicide case without a corpse.

  Nausea and half a mountainous slice of cheesecake roiled through her stomach as she visualized the disbelief on the faces of the victim’s family when the verdict had come down. The family she’d promised a conviction.

  In her mind she could still hear the collective gasp echo across the chamber walls. She heard the grief and torment in the family’s voices when they’d pointed their fingers at her and her fellow prosecutor and accused them of incompetence. Of failure.

  She’d been so sure.

  But she’d been wrong.

  She’d never been wrong before. Never lost a case. Never led so many innocent people into such a clusterfuck of bad judgment, poor execution, and weak evidence. Not once since she’d been an intern with the state attorney’s office had she ever been doubted. Until that verdict had come in. The eyes that followed her out of that courtroom and back down the hall to her office had been teeming with accusation and disappointment.

  She’d failed each and every one of them.

  Horribly.

  She’d lost her touch. Lost her confidence. And she had no idea where to go from here.

  Her sister’s monstrous golden retriever pup curled around Kelly’s feet and groaned as though he could read her thoughts.

  “Nice try, Happy.”

  The pup looked up at her with big, understanding brown eyes, but no one could imagine the agony and guilt that spun a toxic web around her heart. Not even the man who’d stood beside her in that courtroom for months. When the verdict came down, he’d shrugged as if it didn’t matter. For him, maybe it hadn’t. She’d been the one who’d had to face the family, the media, the critics. She’d been the lead on the case.

  Her fault.

  The office door opened, and her sister with her shiny auburn hair and clashing pink apron barged into the office. The dog got up to greet her, and his long furry tail swept the floor in a happy wag.

  “When you said you needed to hide out, I didn’t think you meant literally.” Kate used her foot to scoot a chair out from the wall, and she plopped down. She leaned her forearms on her knees, and she studied Kelly for a good long moment. “You look like hell, big sister.”

  “I imagine that’s an understatement.” Kelly leaned back against the rickety chair in which her mother had sat to order flour and sugar for over three decades. “I haven’t slept much since the verdict came in.”

  “You did your best, Kel.”

  “Did I?” The pressure between Kelly’s eyes intensified.

  “Yes,” Kate insisted. “You used every bit of evidence you had. Your arguments were clear and concise. You led the jury down a path where they could visualize the timeline and the crime. It’s hard to win a murder case without a corpse.” Kate leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Kelly’s shoulders. “What more could you have done?”

  “That’s what I keep asking myself.”

  Kate gave her a squeeze then leaned back. “Well, you’re home now. And if anybody in the press shows up to harass you I will personally kick their ass.” Kate’s brows lifted. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “It feels good to be home.”

  “You say that now, but wait until you’re tucked into that lumpy twin bed tonight and you hear dad snoring from down the hall.”

  Kelly smiled for the first time in weeks. “Icing on the cake.”

  “Speaking of . . . I hate to impose, but would you mind giving me a hand out front? I’ve got a few orders I need to box up, and I still have to ice two dozen cupcakes for Mary Clancy’s baby shower. Dad’s busy with a batch of dinner rolls.”

  “You don’t hate to impose, but I’d be happy to help anyway.” Kelly shoveled the last bit of cheesecake into her mouth, stood, and grabbed an apron off the hook on the wall.

  “Good thing you came home wearing jeans and a T-shirt instead of your usual lawyer regalia.”

  Kelly draped the apron over her head and nodded. She didn’t t
hink now was the right time to tell her sister she had doubts she’d ever wear another Brooks Brothers suit. Her colossal failure had led to a murderer’s freedom—and there was no doubt in her mind that Andrew Colson had murdered his wife. She couldn’t afford to screw up again.

  Someone’s life may depend on it.

  She followed Kate out of the small office tying an apron around her waist and preparing herself to dive back into life in Deer Lick. She’d taken a leave of absence to attend her brother’s wedding. But she’d also come home to hide. To lick her wounds. To overcome her guilt. If that was even possible. She hadn’t quite planned to shovel cookies and cupcakes into white boxes, but that’s exactly what she was about to do.

  As she passed him in the kitchen she gave her dad a quick kiss on the cheek then headed toward the front counter. A glance over the top of the glass display case indicated a number of patrons reading the menu or pointing out sugary delights they intended to take home. Kelly’s gaze skipped over the fresh Neapolitan ice cream colors of the shop, the vintage photo of her mom and dad on the Sugar Shack’s opening day, and came to a sliding stop near the door. Back turned toward her, a wide set of khaki-clad shoulders blocked the summer’s glare off the patrol car parked outside.

  She sucked back a groan.

  Apparently karma wasn’t done playing gotcha.

  Her hands stilled on the apron ties. Her heart knocked against her ribs. The knot in her stomach pulled tight. On the other side of the lunch counter stood another of her monumental screw-ups.

  As if she’d called his name, he turned his sandy blond head. His brown eyes brightened, and a smile tipped the corners of lips that were sinfully delicious. She knew. She’d tasted them.

  She took a wobbly step backward.

  In her thirty-two years she’d been struck with accusatory scowls from a judgmental mother and murderous glares from convicted felons, but nothing had ever hit her below the belt like a smile bursting with sexual promise from one of Deer Lick’s finest.