Bootscootin' and Cozy Cash Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Scott, D. D.

  “You have no idea how difficult it is to constantly be on the go. TV spots. Photo shoots. Guest appearances. Working red carpets around the globe. Having people fascinated by and interested in your every move.”

  “You chose that life, Sienna. You chose that over us. Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you.”

  Cody sucked in his stomach, cutting off the nerve endings starting to fire, damned if he’d let her get to him. “I’ve got to go.”

  He pushed his cart toward the cashiers at the front of the store. Ramrodding his way into the shortest line, he glanced at the stand of gossip rags. Every week Sienna made the cover of one, if not more. He always read the cover blurbs but couldn’t get himself to turn the pages. He’d forever closed that part of his life.

  And luckily, a few months back, the dirty dish purveyors had decided he and Sienna were old news.

  The current issue, however, claimed to be a sneak preview of Sienna’s wedding and the scoop on how she’d landed premier wedding planner Jacques Marentino.

  Cody picked up a copy and placed it on the check-out conveyor, covering it with his celery.

  He needed to read this issue for Jules’ sake.

  Yeah. That was it.

  He was over that low point in his life. He was fairly certain of that.

  Sienna’s latest wedding attempt had just forced open old wounds. And evidently made old news the hottest-selling new news.

  Shit.

  The public humility he’d suffered and Sienna’s betrayal had left deep scars. Now it appeared the scars were about to become fresh wounds.

  But he’d face the pain and embarrassment again if it meant protecting Jules from opportunists like Sienna and Jacques.

  No one would stomp Jules’ heart or dreams with Cody by her side.

  He just hoped they wouldn’t have to relive his nightmarish, almost-nuptials in this latest rag. And he sure hoped to spare Jules the unabashed agony these damn magazines perpetuated with each glossy cover and page-after-page, week-after-week.

  He’d been there. Done that.

  And there was no way in Hell he’d let Jules be their next victim.

  Chapter Eight

  Jules flipped through her catering portfolio looking for the defining image to exemplify Sienna Cruz.

  As much as she wanted to do a Preston Bailey-style Winter Wonderland, Sienna had made it clear the décor, food and mood of her events should have nothing to do with the holiday season.

  So much for Jules’ original idea of flooding the tents she’d reserved with blue lighting and shipping in white trees to cover with crystals and hanging candles.

  There would be no juxtaposition of snowflakes and southern hospitality.

  And that acknowledgement frosted Jules creative reserves.

  Instincts, Baby, instincts, she coached her catering moxie. What else ya got in there, Genius?

  Sweet Destiny was all about making the ordinary extraordinary.

  And just like the pastry chef she was, she couldn’t taste her cakes half-way through like a savory chef could a dish-in-the-works then make adjustments, additions, and or corrections. She had to get it right before it went in the oven. She had to get this event right before she wasted precious time trying out ideas that wouldn’t fly with Cruz & Company.

  Jules did more than sell couture confections.

  She sold emotion in every scrumptious bite she baked.

  To harness that emotion, she took both her clients’ strengths and quirks then transformed each event venue and morsel of edible art into dramatic personality statements.

  To exceed her clients’ dreams and expectations, she needed edgy, innovative concepts and show-stopping designs.

  On her way to the events in her portfolio organized by theme versus holidays, she stumbled onto the Valentine’s Day section.

  Wait a minute.

  Feasting on the monochromatic blushing pink tones she’d once used to stunning success for a Fifth Avenue hotel’s Valentine Couples’ All-Inclusive Package-Deal, she smiled, letting ideas take shape.

  Strands of Swarovski crystals hanging from the tents’ ceilings. Sequin-sashed slipcovers over each chair. Seductive, far from sweet hot pinks mixed with their distant cousin pastels.

  The look screamed sultry Sienna.

  Sienna was every bit a club scene VIP.

  So what if Jules turned the back lawn of the Cruz compound into sexy, svelte lounges?

  With plush white sofas and ottomans, contrasting pinker-than-pink pillows, ultra-modern coffee tables, chandeliers hanging from the tent tops, and signature cocktails, she’d bring the best of Nashville’s nightlife — maybe even with a retro, vintage flare - to the Cruz’ massive backyard.

  She jotted ideas onto her planner pages in a frenzied furor, afraid she’d forget the classy but sassy visions popping into her head while she scribbled.

  ‘Course all these epiphanies would have to meet Jacques’s approval since he was the wedding planner of record. That said, though, with him in charge, even if he didn’t like her ideas, she could end up using them without notice, making it worth the extra time to get them on paper.

  So she kept on scribbling ‘til she had every blasted idea recorded on her planning sheets.

  Jacques had abandoned her mid-event several times. Her talents, organization, and skill had seen him through some major flub-ups. The man couldn’t come through. The king of talking premier event planning, he was also the prince of missing in action when heat flared up in his kitchen. And he was damn good at cooking up trouble.

  Pastry chefs — well all chefs and event planners, for that matter, but especially pastry chefs, must be obsessive compulsive because of the precision and details required to carry-off an event the size of the Cruz’ events. There was simply no room for forgiveness.

  Jules needed precise measurements and accountings of everything she was about to do, plus she had to be geared for speed too.

  Luckily, she had all this and a ton more creative genius in ample reserve. To which, Jacques had nothing. No obsession with details. Hell, the word detail wasn’t in his working vocabulary. His creativity seemed to be drying-up as well, judging by the coverage she’d seen of his last few events, mere re-hashes of his past signature events. Plus, he couldn’t work quickly and efficiently to save himself or anyone in his kitchen.

  If Jules wanted the Cruz’ events to secure her spot in Fan Fest plus future write-ups in Food & Wine Magazine-types and showcases at fancy food festivals and tastings, she had to rely on her own talents.

  She looked at her watch and shook her head, not sure where the night had gone. Abandoning her pen and reading glasses, she rubbed her eyes and massaged her temples. Moving her head from side-to-side, gristly crackles and pops confirmed that though her head was attached to her neck there was a serious strain in their relationship.

  She was used to spending long nights and weekends baking for high profile events but adding Jacques to her plate again had left more than a bad taste in her mouth and nasty kinks in her neck.

  After she’d moved to Nashville, her life had taken such a sweet turn.

  She’d made great new friends out of Cody and his buddies. Aunt Tulip, Roxy and Audrey were all here. Her bakery was ready to open.

  But now that Jacques had all but crashed through her plans, she’d been forced to re-examine what she was made of.

  How much more could she handle? Hadn’t she suffered enough in her life?

  Her karma shouldn’t be this lousy.

  Competition she normally thrived on was now anything but sweet.

  In fact, every idea she jotted down she hoped like hell would be her Top Chef Just Desserts-style immunity challenge winner. Sparing her one more potentially disastrous contest against Jacques.

  Her sanity was dangerously close to dissolving with the sugar and vanilla she’d boiled into a delicious glaze for her new cookie recipe.

  She’d worked so hard all week to prepare for today, too afraid to track the hours. De
nial that she couldn’t be Wonder Woman’s mortal equal in the pastry realm had kept her in the kitchen for another all-nighter. She’d prepared well for her meeting with Sienna — now only two hours away.

  Knowing all-too-well that timing was very tricky when you’re a top chef, she pushed herself up yet again from the chair at the corner table she’d adopted as her command post. She didn’t have extra time on her side.

  Reaching her arms toward the bakery’s tin ceiling, she stretched her anxiety-weary muscles then breathed in, sucking in strength. Exhaling slowly, she expunged her fears. Repeating the exercise, she focused her energy on her conflicts, lessening their power by acknowledging them — the hallmark of a competent yogi. Or the signature stamp of a wacked out, delusional woman. Depending on how one chose to view her situation.

  No one had tested her dharma like Jacques. Not at first, though, she thought. Oh no. What a charmer he’d initially been. In the beginning, he’d said all the right things. But once he’d hooked her, there were so many times in their relationship when finding something good about him had seemed an impossible journey. Talk about a test of faith. The only faith she’d had in him was faith in her lack of faith. And he’d never let her down.

  Despite the obstacles Jacques presented, enough to make her abandon her hopes and ideals both personally and professionally, she’d stay the path to living her personal truth. She wasn’t about to fail.

  Taking in Sweet Destiny’s big city ambiance was a boost. She was thrilled with the dessert bar lining the front windows to the right of the door. Her customers could savor a cupcake or scone with a steam-rising cup of fresh-ground coffee or big glass of milk — hopefully soy - while checking out the people on the sidewalk in front of the bakery.

  As the morning sun highlighted her storefront, Jules spirit lifted. She looked at the gorgeous bakery case filling the space to the left of the entrance and felt the bakery gods and goddesses dancing to her beat.

  She’d busted her butt filling it with homemade, sugar-spun sweets commemorating the colors of fall. Fiery orange-frosted cookies pressed into perfect pumpkins punched up the dark-chocolate covered biscotti plated on fancy pedestals.

  Moving her focus from the biscotti to her lemon poppy seed muffin tops, pride packed her soul like brown sugar in a measuring cup.

  Cody knocked on the door then stuck his head around the frame, bringing her dessert tour to an end in favor of much more delicious eye candy.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a carrot cake muffin and a cup of coffee,” Cody said, opening the door the rest of the way, the sun forming a halo-like aura around his muscular frame.

  “Coming right up, Sweet Man.”

  Jules took a quick peak at her chest making sure the orange vanilla glaze had made it onto her pumpkin cookies instead of her shirt. Part of her wishing some were left behind requiring Cody’s assistance.

  She took a muffin out of the case and set it in front of him, then went behind the counter to get coffee and two mugs. Pouring each mug full of the extra-bold Italian blend she’d lived on all night long, she climbed onto the barstool next to his.

  Cody looked at her, his intense eyes rocking her composure, giving her that ‘c’mon this is me’ comfort she’d come to thrive on. She couldn’t hide her insecurities from him. And for the first time in her life, that was okay.

  He reached for her face then lightly brushed away a loose strand of hair on her cheek. Tucking it behind her ear, his fingers trailed the side of her neck before coming to rest under her chin. An unexpected shiver cascaded her shoulders.

  “You look exhausted. Have you been here all night?”

  She nodded her head, not trusting her voice to convince him she was no worse off for the over-the-top effort.

  “You’ve got to stop this frantic pace. You’re going to wear yourself down. Then where will you be?”

  He moved his thumb across her forehead then repeated the gesture, putting her into a hazy trance as she relaxed into his touch.

  “Remind me again why I said yes to Sienna’s wedding?”

  Cody stood up behind her stool and massaged her shoulders. Her muscles went limp like unbaked cinnamon pretzel sticks.

  “You wanted to give the bakery a huge boost,” Cody said, his thumbs moving in precise circles across her back then down her spinal chord, increasing stimulation to more than her vertebrae. “Unfortunately, you had no idea what the Cruz’ were really like.”

  Jules’ heart ached for the hurt filling the inflection in his voice. “What did Sienna do to cause you so much pain?”

  “We’re talking about you now,” Cody said, seeking refuge back on his stool and in a large bite of muffin. “Get back to me in a couple of weeks. You’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  “I don’t need you prioritizing my worries.”

  Fine if he didn’t want to tell her.

  She was pretty sure she could get Sienna to spill. She didn’t seem to be the kind of girl who would hold back when asked to talk about herself.

  “And just so you know, you are one of my top priorities. So was it love at first sight?”

  Cody hesitated over the brim of his coffee mug long enough Jules sensed she’d made him even more uncomfortable. Whatever happened between him and Sienna must have messed him up pretty good.

  There was no way Jules was letting this go. Nobody messed with her SweetMan. Time to resort to a few of Aunt Tulip’s tricks.

  “I knew Jacques wasn’t right for me after just a few months.”

  If she showed the cracks in her well-guarded world, maybe he’d let her behind his wall.

  Cody picked apart his muffin, removing the beautiful carrot she’d hand-painted on top with frosting.

  “I had to work way too hard for that relationship. And it wasn’t fun.”

  Jules took a sip of coffee trying to think of other Tulip tactics.

  His silence showed he wasn’t yet warming-up to her curiosity.

  “I agree that a good relationship should be easy,” he said, still not looking at Jules or tackling her original question.

  “Well you’re certainly not making this easy on me.”

  “We don’t have that kind of relationship,” he said, now looking at her, an ornery twinkle in his eye challenging her resolve to keep pushing him for information.

  Too bad he’d only encouraged her determination to go after what she wanted. And since she couldn’t stand seeing the people she cared about hurting, he was toast.

  “We might have that kind of relationship if we both weren’t so warped from our last attempts.”

  So much for subtle. Where the hell did that come from?

  Good thing she was a pastry chef and not a therapist. Her conversation-inducing technique sucked. A good therapist casually, nonchalantly cajoled information out of their patients, not thumped it out of ‘em after cracking ‘em on the noggin’ with their own painful pasts.

  “Are you telling me I’m the right kind of easy guy for you?”

  Cody put the frosting carrot on his index finger and licked it off.

  Jules’ stomach was already pitching from being licked by his questions. But the frosting meeting his tongue did way more than stir up her digestive tract.

  She snagged a piece of his muffin just to keep her hands busy.

  “I’m telling you, Sweet Man, I want to know about your past with Sienna. But unlike you, I’ll answer your question. I don’t have a clue how easy you are. But otherwise, you’re the right kind of guy for me.”

  That got him. His hand actually trembled as he lifted his mug to his mouth. He fidgeted on his barstool then reached under his fleece pull-over and around to the back pocket of his jeans. Pulling out a magazine folded length-wise, he set it on the dessert bar in front of her.

  “Everything you want to know is in here.” The ornery twinkle in his eyes had been replaced by the stoic shield she’d seen whenever Sienna’s name was on queue.

  Jules unfolded the tabloid and read the cove
r blurb. “Sienna Cruz: A Look Inside the Music City Princess’s Upcoming Wedding and the Photos that Prevented Her Last Trip Down the Aisle”.

  “Photos? What photos?”

  “You’ll see ‘em. They’re all in here. Giving a new definition to ‘easy relationships’ and ‘working it’. We’ll see if you still think I’m the right kind of guy.” Cody laughed following his statement but with a deep sarcasm and edge Jules was unaccustomed to hearing from him.

  “Okay. I’ll take a look after the meeting.”

  Even though she was short on time and couldn’t look at the article now, she couldn’t let the trepidation etching his face go without care and soothing. He deserved the same unfaltering loyalty he always showed her.

  “But just so you know, nothing in those pages could change your good guy status with me.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  He finished the last bite of muffin then searched his plate as if wishing another bite would appear giving him something else to do besides talk about Sienna.

  “I’ve never talked about her with anyone. But I want to tell you.”

  Jules took his hands. “Thank you for that. That’s what friends are for, Cody. And no matter what, we’ll always have that.”

  Her heart felt so complete as if she’d reassured herself too. Even facing the unknown with him didn’t scare her or make her doubt the kind of man he was. Whatever was in those photos wouldn’t make or break their friendship. They were stronger than that.

  “For the record, I don’t know that I ever loved Sienna or was in love with her. I didn’t know what love was then.”

  Cody looked at Jules with an expression she wasn’t sure she was ready to interpret.

  The door chimes jingled, ushering in the ultimate joker, an interpretation Jules wished she’d figured out before he’d tricked her heart almost beyond repair.

  “Certainly you’re not wearing that for our meeting. You look like you’ve been up all night.”

  Jacques’s smarmy voice grated Jules’ nerves thinner than the carrots she’d prepared for Cody’s favorite muffins.

  “I have been up all night,” she sputtered, her jaw so tight she could hardly get the words between her teeth.