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

by Scott, D. D.

  Thinking the meatloaf smelled damn near done, he was even more worried. She’d normally be in front of the oven stewing over when to take out the pan, convinced as she always was for no good reason that she’d ruin his dinner.

  Noting on the oven’s built-in timer that the meat had less than five minutes to go, he knew he couldn’t wait to see if she turned up, he had to find her. Something wasn’t right. He didn’t give a shit about burnt meatloaf. They could order out. But he did care about Audrey.

  He checked the laundry room. No sign of her.

  Then he checked his office on his way through the hall to the great room. She hadn’t been in there because his crap was still right where he’d left it, not in stacked piles she always left everywhere after she’d been working in there.

  Stepping into the great room, he heard the fireplace crackling and admired its orange-red glow. But seeing Audrey curled up under a wool blanket on his couch, out cold, warmed him more than the heat of the fire.

  He’d never seen her take a nap like this in the middle of the day. Hell, he had a hard time getting her to take a load off for just a few minutes and sit in his lap. She always had to be up and doing something.

  Hearing the timer ding that the meatloaf was done, he went back into the kitchen to get it out of the oven. He’d finish up supper and get her car into the garage, letting her sleep ‘til he had everything taken care of.

  She was just going to have to slow down. She’d seemed even more worn out than usual the last couple weeks, and he didn’t like it.

  He’d asked her about it too. But like she did when someone showed concern for her well-being, she’d brushed him off. She could take care of herself and wouldn’t be caught dead burdening their friends, or him, with her welfare, a quality Damian admired but wasn’t about to let her carry to extremes. Not under his watch.

  He loved her too much to let her sacrifice her health for anyone or anything. Even for her family’s past that sure looked like it might haunt them for awhile.

  With dinner on the table, he went back into the great room to wake her. Slipping up to the couch so as not to scare her, he scooted over her legs and nestled in beside her. Leaning down, he planted a kiss on her ultra-soft cheek then one on her perfectly cute nose.

  She didn’t budge.

  Talk about out.

  That’s it, he decided. She was cutting back her workload. Better yet, she needed time off. Maybe he’d see if she wanted to get away for a couple of days. She’d been wanting to go to some bed and breakfast a few hours south of the city. It would be good for both of them. And as long as he was with her, he didn’t care where they went, and he knew she’d be safe.

  He kissed her lips, lingering awhile, always fascinated by how wonderful his skin felt brushing hers. He swore he could kiss her and touch her forever, and he’d never been much of a smoocher. But he couldn’t keep his mouth and hands off her.

  She stirred and stretched then jumped up, almost head-butting him. Luckily, his reflexes hadn’t yet relaxed enough to prevent him from dodging her charge.

  “Shit. My meatloaf,” she said, trying to shove him out of the way and scramble off the couch.

  “Whoa, Baby. Take it easy. I already took care of it.”

  Damian steadied her then gently massaged her arms. He then pushed a few not so perfectly coiffed, sexy-blond hairs off her face. Tucking the fly away, frizz-fest strands behind her ears - where they looked damn cute - he removed the blanket from her lap and tossed it across the back of the couch.

  “I’m sorry, Honey. Man, I just crashed. Did the meatloaf burn?” Audrey dropped her head against Damian’s chest, still seeming groggy as she fought the hard core sleep evidently hanging on.

  “No, Baby. It’s fine. Perfect, I’m sure, as always,” he said, helping her get to her feet. As they headed for the kitchen, he looped his fingers through hers loving how sweetly perfect her small hands fit inside his large, Baker Boy paws. “But over dinner, we’re going to discuss how tired you’ve been lately. You’re taking a break. And I mean it.”

  She gave him that look of hers that fired up his resolve at the same time it made him laugh and think there was probably a slim chance at best that he was gonna win this one. When her gigantic, pretty blue eyes leveled on him, wide-as-wide could be, he was toast.

  And once she followed the look with that ever-so-slight toss of her head, her bobbed haircut coming off even sassier, he lost all control.

  She took him to his knees, making his secret mantra “whatever you say, dear…as long as you’re mine forever”.

  “I saw that look. C’mon, Baby. Let me have it,” Damian said, tapping her sweetly round behind with the palm of his hand.

  “I don’t want to take a break. But you might be right that I need one,” she said.

  An expression then crossed her face he’d never seen before, one silently asking if she’d said what she thought she’d said. Hell, she’d surprised herself by giving-in to his wishes.

  Oh yeah, he’d heard her. And he wasn’t about to let his victory go uncelebrated.

  “I might be right? Did you just admit, out loud, that I’m correct? Surely I’m mistaken.”

  “You probably are wrong. ‘Cause I would never give you that much credit. Not to your face anyway,” Audrey said then laughed.

  Though she laughed, it wasn’t the carefree giggle he’d come to expect and gravitate toward.

  His hands, now on her shoulders, were working like son of guns to rub out the tension that wouldn’t let go of her. Something was bothering her. And he didn’t like it. Meatloaf or no meatloaf, he was getting to the bottom of this…and now.

  “Okay, Baby,” he said.

  As she tried finagling her way out of his grasp, he stopped her with a firm grip of one hand around her tiny wrist. “What’s up?”

  She sighed then looked at the hardwood floors, moving the toe of her way-too-expensive, but sexy shoe around his dirt-stained tube-socks.

  Not a good sign.

  Whenever she was frustrated, she did that stammering bull thing.

  “Let’s eat first,” she said, trying to pull him toward the kitchen. “Then I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “This is me you’re talking to, remember? If whatever it is bothers you this much, I’m thinking we should talk first.”

  Damian wasn’t about to let her keep this bottled-up through supper. He didn’t like seeing her so unsettled. Plus, now she was doing the raised, creased eyebrow thing, prodding his gut to do whatever it took to take away her worries long before devouring his meatloaf.

  “Okay. You’re right,” she said, taking an uncomfortably gigantic, big deep breath.

  “That’s twice in less than five minutes you’ve said I’m right. Now you got me really worried,” he said, trying to lighten her way-too-serious mood.

  “Come sit at the table. I’ve got something for you.”

  She tugged on his below-the-belt package then gave the goods a light squeeze, sending a teasing jolt straight through his groin.

  He followed her into the kitchen and had a seat at the table.

  She was obsessing about something so much she’d sacked out on the couch, damn near burnt the meatloaf, but now she had a gift for him? Now he felt better. She was back to her quirky, multi-tasking, borderline neurotic self.

  She grabbed a bag off the butcher block table and came over to where he sat. Wedging her legs between his like she often did, she snuggled into him for some extra lovin’.

  “Open this first,” she said.

  Her body filled with large enough tremors that Damian felt them bouncing off her petite frame.

  He took the bag, looking forward to the contents. She was always getting him surprises, little just-because things he loved because they came straight from her heart.

  From the tissue paper stuffed in the bag, he removed a small box, catching the Raeve label embossed on the lid. That threw him. She’d never gotten him anything from Roxy’s boutique. Did they make
stuff for men? He knew they’d been talking about it but didn’t know they were to that point.

  He opened the lid then moved aside the cotton insert.

  Now he was beyond confused.

  What would he want with a miniature belt buckle the size a baby would…

  He looked up at Audrey. Her eyes were wider and more frightened than he’d ever seen them.

  “We’re pregnant,” she said, little flutters of air then escaping her lips, replacing her normal, yoga-deep breaths.

  His immediate thought, fleeting as it was, was it’s not mine. Not saying he believed her baby could possibly be anyone else’s, but his psyche just couldn’t wrap around the fact that a baby — any baby - could be his.

  “You’re kidding?” He asked so softly he wasn’t sure if he’d actually said it or was just thinking it.

  Hell, maybe he looked like he’d said it but only said the words through his body language. Yeah that made sense. Truth told, he was too damn got to know what he’d said or done.

  Audrey shook her head indicating she wasn’t kidding, took a deep breath and looked once more at her feet.

  Damian took an even deeper breath. Under the unexpected weight of her revelation, his shoulders slumped. He couldn’t look at her, his eyes instead fixating on her belly.

  He needed space. And fast. He gently moved her from between his legs and stood up from the table. Turning from her, he left her standing there, horribly alone and stunned.

  He knew it wasn’t right, but before he could face her, he had to be by himself…just for a minute. He had to gather his thoughts. He certainly didn’t want to hurt her with words and ideas he wasn’t sure how to express.

  Going into the great room, he stood there, soaking in the silence hanging in the room, trying to quiet the commotion buzzing his insides.

  Lost in his thoughts, his eyes focused on the fire while his mind stoked the unexplored embers Audrey and their baby lit in his soul.

  Almost as if an unknown, unrecognized force pushed him back into the kitchen, he returned to Audrey. He pulled her toward him, seeing the tears falling from her eyes and smeared against her cheeks. But he felt nothing but numbness. He kissed the top of her head then hugged her close to his ragged heart beat.

  “I’ll be outside working,” he said, leaving her speechless — a first to his recollection - then walking past her toward the mudroom.

  Pulling on his boots, then his coat, hat and work gloves, he stared out the window at the snow gathering in a fierce intensity.

  He was more than ready to face the blustery storm outside his home. But he was completely unequipped to deal with the one whipping up inside him and inside the love of his life.

  Chapter Three

  Strong winds thrashed against the window panes. Swirls of thick snow hurled through the air before plummeting into the drifts piling up in the driveway and yard.

  Audrey shivered. Her nose, along with Jules’ and Roxy’s, remained plastered against the frosted, breakfast-room bay window while taking in the view’s surreal absurdity.

  “I can’t believe Damian’s been riding that damn tractor in a blizzard for an hour and a half,” Jules said, staring into the bitterly frigid night. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

  “Who cares what’s wrong with him? He left Audrey in here alone,” Roxy said, her glasses long since fogged-over, rendering them useless, and her forehead a deep red almost purple from being pressed against the chilled window.

  “I’m not an invalid yet,” Audrey countered, not sure why she was defending Damian’s behavior except that it felt like the natural thing to do. Maybe because she knew he’d stick up for her too, even when he didn’t agree with what she’d done or not done.

  And she definitely didn’t agree with his approach so far to their pregnancy. Shivering more from that reality than the cold glass, she followed the headlights of Damian’s precious John Deere across the snow drifts continuing to mount in the front yard.

  Yes, a baby would totally change the way they looked at life. And the way her handlers looked at her life too. That was a given.

  And yes, there would be a ton of trepidation about just being pregnant - like will the baby be okay or will it have some condition that puts it at a disadvantage? With her and Damian’s ages, they’d have to do all the screening tests. Their risks of miscarriage and birth defects were higher than a couple with a younger egg and sperm in cahoots.

  The anticipation of the responsibility of raising a child would also be tremendous. Even without Audrey’s past to contend with too.

  Their lives would change. Maybe their dreams wouldn’t. Maybe they would. But their focus sure would. Adjustments would have to be made. There’s an innocent life involved now. A life they’d created together out of their love. But where would that leave their lives?

  “Enough of this misery-needs-camaraderie crap,” Roxy said, taking her large hobo bag off the chair unfortunate to bear its ridiculous weight. She dug through the contents with a determination meaning nothing but business. Pulling out her Blackberry, she punched it to life. “We’ve got a baby to plan for.”

  “Yes we do,” Jules joined in, unzipping her humongous, archaic day planner then flipping pages in a fury.

  “That thing belongs in a museum,” Audrey said then giggled, knowing Jules would laugh even though she’d never part with it.

  “Only after I’ve replaced it with a bigger and better model,” Jules said without an ounce of hesitation that that wasn’t exactly what she’d do.

  “You’ll be lucky if they even make those beasts by then,” Roxy said, her glasses back in place, the blue glow of her Blackberry screen reflecting off the stylish lenses. “Fire up your laptop, Audrey. We’ve got a due date to calculate.”

  Audrey popped open then powered up her Mac, not really in the mood for all this baby talk, but too thankful for Roxy and Jules’ supportive spirits to balk at their attempts to cheer her.

  “How can we figure a due date when I have no idea when we conceived?”

  “How many times a month do you two do it for God’s sake?” Roxy said, leaning in towards Audrey, sizing up more than the body measurement configurations she was normally concerned with.

  “I don’t think that’s any of our business,” Jules said, glaring at Roxy while patting the top of Audrey’s hand as if telling her she didn’t have to answer that question.

  “Oh, yes it is,” Roxy argued. “The three of us have always shared everything. And how am I supposed to clothe this kid if I don’t know which season he or she will make their delivery room debut?”

  “Now there’s a fun thing to consider,” Jules gushed, squirming in her chair like a child waiting to be served some yummy after-school snack.

  And speaking of snacks, damn did one of Jules’ dark chocolate brownies sound good, Audrey thought, salivating with the vision.

  “I wonder if we’ll have a boy or girl to spoil then send home when we’re done?” Jules tapped the eraser-end of her mechanical pencil against her planner then borrowed Audrey’s Kindle.

  “Well, my pregnancy book says Damian’s sperm holds the deciding gender vote,” Audrey said, grateful to dodge the sex frequency issue.

  “Okay, so back to when exactly did Damian cast his most recent ballot?” Roxy asked, gloating over her clever re-direct with a wickedly sassy smile.

  “Cute.” Audrey rolled her eyes, knowing now there was no escape from Roxy’s interrogation other than fessing-up the info she demanded. “We make love about three times a week. Are you satisfied?”

  “Am I satisfied? Sounds like you sure as hell are,” Roxy said, harrumphing while clicking more buttons on her Blackberry.

  “Okay, you two,” Jules said, “from what this book says, if we can’t pinpoint conception, we need to use your last ovulation date. Oh…we are screwed, huh? Are you still so irregular?”

  “As irregular as irregular can be defined,” Audrey said, opening her calendar, trying to ward off the panic of all these
unknowns closing-in on her psyche. “So what’s the due date formula in the book?”

  “We need to subtract three months from the first day of your last menstrual period then add seven days. That should be the date we need,” Jules said then looked to Audrey to get to work with her calendar.

  Jules moved her chair next to Audrey’s. Roxy did the same so that both of them were flanking Audrey’s sides and staring into her laptop screen.

  Nestled between them, Audrey felt some of the tension leave her body. They could get through this together…right?

  She clicked on November’s month-at-a-glance. That was the timing of her last menstrual period. Moving the cursor over the days of the month she needed, her fingers trembled.

  “I started my last period on November thirteenth,” she said.

  Remembering how Damian had teased her that he wouldn’t get laid on his birthday, she giggled all to herself. But he had indeed gotten some. Her first day was always too light to even count as a day one.

  “You started on Damian’s birthday?” Roxy said then laughed. “Bet that made him happy.”

  “As a matter of fact, he didn’t miss out on a thing,” Audrey said, reveling in the smug grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She loved sparring with Roxy. Fun stuff.

  “Do I need to separate you two?” Jules offered, turning pages in her planner. “Can we figure this out first? Then you two can duke it out over who has the best sex life.”

  “Hey, we’re just trying to keep up with you and your Aphrodisiac King,” Roxy said while maneuvering Audrey’s calendar page three months back to August.

  “Y’all should be so lucky,” Jules purred, an ornery lift of her gorgeously full eyebrows signaling Roxy may be right that aphrodisiacs did spice things up a bit.

  Audrey laughed out loud, willing to give this round to Jules.

  Jules’ beau Cody, the best fruit and vegetable producer in Nashville, had partnered with her Sex Therapist by degree Aunt Tulip to create Music City’s first Aphrodisiac Produce Market. Thinking of the market and seeing August highlighted on her screen, Audrey’s mind geared into overdrive.