Cookies, Curses, and Kisses

by Jovee Winters

  “Oh, that’s quite a mouthful.”

  Edward, who was smiling from ear to ear, swiveled back and forth on his seat. Lapis, the sweeter of the two cats and a bonafide kid lover, came slinking over and stood up on her two hind feet, planting her front paws on Edward’s knees.

  He stopped moving and stared down in wonder at my needy and silly cat, who was now purring and twitching her ears back and forth. She loved nothing more than a good head scratch.

  Edward reached over and rubbed. Lapis looked like she would melt into a puddle of bliss.

  Malachite, never far from his sister, hissed from a shadowy corner somewhere. Cranky kitten.

  I smiled at Zane.

  “Little bit,” he said, finally responding to my statement. “What’s yours?”

  I blinked. Did he want to know my name? I swallowed. This man made me unaccountably nervous. Was this flirting? And if so, where was his wife? He had the child. Surely the wife wasn’t far behind.

  “Um, it’s, uh... Zinnia. Zinnia Rose Thorne.”

  His mouth twitched. “Far as names go, I’d say we’re birds of a feather, Zinna Rose.”

  My heart fluttered because I was fairly certain that had been flirting. Not knowing what to say, I nodded once and turned to grab a pot of freshly-brewed coffee. And maybe a cup of just squeezed OJ for the boy.

  “By the way,” he said softly, “Zinnia’s were my wife’s favorite flower.”

  Chapter 4

  Zane Huntington III

  I WATCHED THE STRANGE woman freeze up as I mentioned the flower. But she didn’t turn back toward me. Instead, she nodded once and scampered off, looking like a terrified little bunny.

  I frowned when she was finally out of my sight.

  What was I doing? Why had I even mentioned Elle, and why hadn’t it reduced me to tremors as it had done so often before?

  I stared down at my empty white mug with a hard frown. Coming here had been a bad idea, and yet...

  I glanced over to where I’d seen Zinnia Rose Thorne last. My fingers twitched, and my pulse hammered. She was gone, but her scent of wild roses still lingered.

  She’d been so unusual to look upon, and not because she lacked beauty. She was tall and thin with slight, soft curves and rich mahogany hair that she wore pinned up with a few loose, fat curls framing her heart-shaped face.

  She had mesmerizing glass-green eyes with long, dark lashes. But her face hadn’t been made up. She hadn’t worn a stitch of makeup save for the blood-red lipstick. It was silly, but her work costume reminded me of Lucille Ball. I couldn’t keep from grinning and rubbed at the center of my chest.

  A movement caught my eye. I glanced over and saw Edward sliding off his stool. I frowned. “Where are you going, son?”

  He paused, spine rigid and tense. He turned slowly on his heel and gave me a tight smile in return. One of Zinnia’s cats was now between his legs and flicking its long black tail back and forth between his ankles.

  Edward had never been an animal person before. He’d never much cared for them, or they for him. And yet he and the toad at the gas station, and he and this cat, seemed to be drawn to each other.

  I studied my boy, his cute face so reminiscent of Elle’s that it brought a sharp pang to my chest and heat to my throat. It’d been two years since the cancer had finally claimed her, and there were times when I swore looking at Edward was like staring into the face of a ghost.

  “I... bathroom, Daddy.” He shrugged, and I frowned deeper.

  He’d just gone to the bathroom earlier. I stared at his stomach. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He shrugged again. “I’m fine. Just have to pee.”

  Zinnia notwithstanding, something about Blue Moon Bay felt very strange to me. But it had nothing to do with the buildings that looked like they belonged on a 1930s postcard, or the townspeople who didn’t seem to be quite what they appeared. It was more than that. It was the Halloween decorations all over the place in the middle of July. It was the gentle hum of spooky songs pumping through hidden speakers all around, making my skin break out in a wash of goose pimples. And it was the women and men dressed in clothes that belonged in a completely different century.

  Maybe this town was themed. Maybe it was nothing more than just one giant tourist trap, but on our way to the diner, I’d passed an honest-to-God ice-cream parlor.

  It wasn’t that there was an ice-cream parlor in this town that baffled me, but the scope of the building. The façade had looked like... well, like an ice castle, which sounded stupid. But the place was enormous, with a high, vaulted roof covered in icy shingles and spires, like a little girl’s dream castle.

  First, a building like that must have cost a small fortune. Just getting the outside of it to look like reflective glass would have been near impossible unless a master props guys had been hired. Second, the blasted thing had even felt cold to the touch. I may have gotten out of the car just to touch it. The ice had stung my palm, it’d been so cold.

  “Go pee, then, Edward. But hurry back. We’re going to eat and then go.”

  “Aww, Dad,” Edward whined and clutched his hands together. “Can’t we spend the night here tonight? Please.”

  “I don’t know, son. I didn’t even see a—”

  “If you’re looking for a place to sleep tonight—”

  I jumped, not realizing Zinnia had reappeared until she was suddenly standing in front of me, holding a coffee pot full of dark, silky ambrosia.

  I gaped at her, feeling that same strange pull that I’d felt from the very second I’d walked through the doors, that feeling of being overwhelmed and punched in the gut all at the same time. I swallowed hard as I dug my fingers into my lap.

  “We do have a really cute bed-and-breakfast in town called The Haunted Boot. It’s on Mockingbird Lane, just up the hill a ways.”

  I frowned. Mockingbird Lane? “Of course it’s called The Haunted Boot, because why would it be called anything else in this place?” I groused, not realizing I’d said it out loud until Zinnia’s full lips twitched.

  She’d stopped pouring, curls of whitish, translucent steam stretching long fingers toward her face. My heart beat wildly in my chest. She stared at me with a quizzical frown on her face.

  “Zane?” She said my name so softly, like a gentle breeze brushing over me, and I twitched, suddenly aware of how hard I’d been staring.

  I jerked and grunted. “Sorry. Sorry. I, um, bathroom?”

  “Excuse me?” Glass-green eyes widened in surprise.

  “The... the restroom. Where is it?”

  She blinked and looked at me, then at Edward, then back at me again with understanding dawning in her pretty eyes. “Just around the corner, Edward. You can’t miss it. Look for the sign that says Little Boos.”

  Edward laughed, and I shifted on my seat. Had I given her my son’s name? Honestly, I couldn’t even remember anymore. I think maybe I had. This town made me feel off.

  But then she looked back at me and gave me a sweet smile, and the feeling of falling swept over me again. It was like being drowning and flying all at the same time.

  I’d felt this once before—only ever once before—and I’d told myself I could never feel it again. Yet here I was, in a strange town, with a strange woman, and it was happening to me all over again.

  I wet my lips, and she visibly trembled.

  She smiled, but it appeared forced and timid. “Had a chance to study the menu yet?”

  I shook my head. I was a grown man, not a college quarterback of barely twenty-one who thought he knew everything about everything until a sassy Southern girl upended my spoiled views on life and made me a slave to her in all things. I shouldn’t be like this again. This shouldn’t be able to happen to me again. Not again.

  I was going to tell her thank you, and that I was leaving, taking my son and getting the hell out of Dodge for my sanity and his.

  A little voice in the back of my head called me a liar as images flashed in my mind of Edward smiling m
ore in the past hour than he had in the past two years.

  Upset at myself, I cleared my throat and said, “Not really, but it all smells so good in here.”

  I was going. I really was.

  “Would you like a suggestion?” she asked, and I found myself leaning forward so much that mere inches separated us.

  My nostrils flared as I dragged her scent of wild roses, cinnamon, and sugar deep inside of me.

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Tell me.”

  Her lips twitched. “Well, I’ve always been partial to my bourbon-glazed apple pancakes.”

  “I love apples.”

  She grinned. “Edward too?”

  I nodded, a small part in the back of my head wondering why I was ordering food instead of leaving. Maybe I was tired. Maybe it was the inevitable caffeine crash coming over me. I didn’t know, but I didn’t move off my seat.

  “Yes,” I said. “He loves them too.”

  She smiled with a grin that was real and stole the very breath from my body. I was trembling, shaking like a sapling in a stiff breeze. Her smile pierced my chest like a fiery arrow, blazing a trail right through me.

  “Good. Then maybe less bourbon for him, and more candied pecans?”

  I nodded. “Beautiful.”

  Her lovely lips parted into a tiny O shape as she brushed a stray curl out of her eyes. Those hypnotic glass-green eyes rounded, and I noticed, for the first time, the light smattering of freckles bridging her nose.

  She blinked. “I’ll... I’ll get right on that.”

  Then she was gone.

  And I was groaning.

  Beautiful?

  “Beautiful?” I groused and scowled down at my hands. What in gods name was wrong with me tonight?

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d sat there staring at my hands before I heard, “Daddy, you okay?”

  Giving my head a swift shake, I looked at my son, with his large eyes and hopeful, but slightly nervous smile, and I smiled back at him. My voice was a deep, heavy rumble as I said, “I’m okay, Eddie. I’m okay.”

  But I wasn’t. I wasn’t at all.

  THE FOOD HAD BEEN THE stuff songs were written about, which sounded incredibly corny, but not even Mother’s cook could have whipped up something so simple and yet so incredibly complex all at the same time.

  Eating Zinnia’s food had been heaven for me. I’d told myself not to moan and groan in appreciation with each and every bite. But once I realized I wasn’t the only one making those noises, I’d stopped caring.

  I could definitely understand why her little diner was so crowded. The apples tasted like the most perfect, sweetest, crispest apples plucked fresh from the tree. The bourbon glaze was creamy and delicate but robust all at the same time, chock full of spices like cinnamon and nutmeg and a host of other things I couldn’t possibly name. The cakes themselves were fat and fluffy. God, it was all I could do not to write a sonnet about it.

  I didn’t look up at Zinnia again after that, just muttered thank you whenever she returned to refill my coffee cup. I felt off tonight, but that wasn’t her fault. The truth was that being around the strange woman wasn’t good for my sanity. I hadn’t liked the way I felt around her.

  Or maybe, a small voice in the back of my head called me out, you liked it too much.

  Gritting my teeth, I glanced up at the imposing white-and-red Victorian home, with the fancy wraparound porch and old-fashioned screened door, and shook my head.

  Why was I still in Blue Moon Bay? After I’d paid for our meal, I’d had every intention of high tailing out of there.

  But I’d taken one look at his slumped over, sleeping form the very second he’d climbed back into the car, and my heart had softened. Just because I wanted to run away didn’t mean it was fair to keep pushing my young son.

  Elle would have been furious with me if I’d dared.

  Young children need a good’s night rest, I heard the ghost of her whisper.

  So here I was, sitting in the tiny parking lot of the only hotel in all of Blue Moon Bay, staring at the numbers stenciled beside the doorframe.

  “1313 Mockingbird Lane.” I snorted and shook my head. This town took itself far too seriously. If Eddie Munster showed up to greet us, I was definitely leaving.

  With a muttered oath, I stepped out of the car and walked around to my son’s side to pick him up. He was so light and weighed practically nothing for a boy his age. He’d lost a good fifteen pounds since Elle’s death since he often refused to eat. I hated it and had tried so hard to get the bare minimum of nutrients in him. There was no struggle tonight, though. He’d inhaled Zinnia’s food like a child starved. I frowned, shutting out all thoughts of her.

  I should just go. I really should. I kept telling myself that over and over. But the next town was too far away, my phone was still acting up, the map I’d copied at the library had confirmed the old woman’s words—that there was literally nothing else for a hundred miles—and I was running on fumes.

  I needed sleep. Desperately. I had been needing it for the past two years. I hadn’t slept much since Elle’s death or even for a few months before it. No matter how exhausted I was, the second my head hit the pillow, my brain replayed the last two years of her life in glaring detail.

  I swallowed hard and glanced up to note a short woman with a kind and deeply wrinkled face smiling back at us from her porch swing. She had a full head of snow-white hair caught up in a bun.

  “Evening,” she said, her voice sounding strong despite her appearance of frailty. “Me name’s Glenda, and you may call me so. How can I help you, young man?”

  I instantly liked her and found myself smiling tiredly back. She reminded me of my great-grandmother Ethel, if she’d been kind and gentle-sounding. They were the same approximate height—five foot nothin’—and their hair was exactly the same. The rest... well, if I imagined Ethel’s blue eyes had been kind and not frosty as glass, and her smile genuine and not forced, I could see the similarities.

  I frowned and looked around. Did I maybe have the wrong house? I hadn’t seen a sign for the Haunted Boot, but the description I’d been given by the cashier at the Golden Goose sounded about right.

  “I, um... well, I was wondering if you had any available rooms for the night?”

  She chuckled and nodded, tossing a long, thorny rose stem over the railing and into the tall but manicured grass as she stood up from the swing. “Weel, son, you’re in luck. We do happen to have one room left, though it’s only got one bed, if ye don’t mind sharing.”

  I cringed. Edward was a whirling dervish in his sleep, arms and legs kicking out and slapping me repeatedly throughout the night. But the exhaustion was creeping over me forcefully, and I didn’t think I had another ten miles left in me, let alone the hundred it would take to get us to the next town.

  “It’s a California King, if that makes a difference.”

  That could work. I nodded. “Well, we’ve had a long day, and right now, sleep is all we need.”

  “How many nights you be needing it for, son?”

  “One.” I shook my head. “We’ll be gone by morning.”

  “Och, weel”—she grinned and winked—“if that’s all ye think ye’ll be needing it for, I’m sure we can accommodate ye both. Now, I dinna cook—”

  I chuckled. “Not much of a bed-and-breakfast, then.”

  Her eyes danced with laughter, and I grinned at her. She patted my hand with her soft, gnarled fingers. “Weel, ye are a tease, aren’t ye, you handsome devil.” She winked, and I swear to God, I blushed, which was the darndest thing.

  I was clearly more tired than I knew. “If you say so, Ms. Glenda.”

  She grinned. “Aye, I do. Now, take the stairs to the third landing. Only room up there. Sorry about the décor, but you are taking me last room, so there’s no much in the way of options.”

  I frowned. “Don’t I have to check-in?”

  “Ye just did, son. We’ll settle the matter of money in the morning.”

&
nbsp; “I’d hoped to check-out before the sun—”

  “Och, dinna fash yerself, boyo. I never sleep. Not at my age.” She inhaled deeply. “I’ll be up, whenever ye need me. Now, Oswald will see to your luggage. He’s my husband, ye see.”

  It went against the grain for me to allow a perfect stranger to carry my luggage, but my arms were getting tired from holding my son’s deadweight for so long, and there was something about Glenda I immediately trusted.

  “I’ve only got two small suitcases. They’re in the backseat.”

  “Does he need a key?”

  “No, it’s a convertible. In fact, I really should go and—”

  She swatted my words away. “Nobody around here will steal anything, I can promise ye that. No rain tonight, neither. Leave it down if you’ve a mind to.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re not planning to kill me in my sleep, are you Ms. Glenda?”

  Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she let out a great big peal of pure, unadulterated laughter.

  “Och, weel, ye are a fine one, aren’t you? Kill ye in your sleep, indeed.”

  My lips twitched. “Guess I saw one too many horror movies when I was younger. And I’m tired, because I doubt very much I’d have said that to you if I wasn’t.”

  She snorted. “I do like you—”

  She waited, clearly prompting me for a name. “Zane. Zane Huntington, and this is Edward.” I held up my son for her inspection. “Thank you.”

  She shrugged and patted my cheek. “It’s me job, Zane.”

  A feeling of warmth spread through me, a wash of peace so profound and overwhelming that I felt years of anxiety and depression rush out of me like a tide sweeping back toward the ocean.

  Suddenly, Blue Moon Bay didn’t seem like such a bad little place at all.

  “As I said,” she said sweetly, “I dinna cook. I can, but believe me, you’d not be wanting what I’d be making. No, all breakfast is delivered to us from the Golden Goose on the morrow. There’s a menu in your room. Make sure to fill it out and place it outside your door before midnight.”