Can't Buy Me Love: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 3)

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Can't Buy Me Love: Romantic Comedy (Sinclair Sisters Trilogy Book 3) Page 7

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson


  “I can’t wear them outside, Dad. It’s dark and cold.”

  “Maybe take them off until we get home. By the smell of things, Gran has dinner about done anyway.” Plus, his half of the duplex came with a concrete-floored garage, where she could roller skate until she exhausted herself.

  “Hey, Mum.” He leaned down to kiss his mother’s cheek.

  “I made apple crumble for pudding.” Shona McBride smiled up at him. “You look tired.”

  “It’s going to be another long night tonight too.” He hung his jacket on the back of one of the chairs at the dining table. “Seeing as I’ve got a stakeout.” However, this stakeout wasn’t so much to catch the bad guys, but more to save the good guy from herself. Working for Benson Security was definitely very different from being a cop in Glasgow.

  “Oh!” Darcy squealed. “Can I come?”

  “No,” Logan and his mother said at the same time.

  “I never get to do anything fun,” Darcy complained as she sat down to take off her skates.

  Logan shared a look with his mum, and they both grinned.

  “So, you’re staking out the hotel?” his mum said with a sly smile. “Does Dougal know?”

  “No. And let’s keep it that way.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Yeah, right. As soon as he was out of sight, she’d be on the phone to her knitting cronies. And who knew what trouble they’d cause.

  “I’m serious,” he said. “No stirring up Knit or Die. No spreading rumors. This is my work. No using it as an excuse to wind up Dougal.”

  “I wouldn’t dare.” Although she sounded affronted, he detected a maniacal glint in her eye.

  He sighed. He’d done what he could to shut her down, and it was out of his hands now. “What can I do to help?” He shoved up the sleeves of his sweater.

  “Nothing. The kids will lay the table. You can go fetch your dad.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she lowered her voice. “He’s watching porn in the shed.”

  “You can’t embarrass me, so you might as well stop trying,” he said as he headed for the back door. “I was a cop. I’ve seen it all.”

  “Challenge accepted,” his mother said as she checked the oven.

  Even in her sixties, Shona McBride was still full of energy, looked years younger, and got up to a ton of mischief with her friends from the knitting club. Right now, the bizarre war the women of Knit or Die periodically waged against Dougal and the old men who played dominoes had ended, but it wouldn’t take much to start it up again. Both sides were always itching for a fight.

  Logan stepped out into the icy wind and jogged down the path to the shed. He didn’t knock, but then he knew his dad wasn’t really watching porn. You’d have to know how to work a computer for that, or a phone. Something Robert McBride, Rab to his friends, hadn’t mastered. Instead, he was bent over his workbench, tying flies for fishing.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Logan said.

  His dad grunted as he continued to tie off the fly, winding red silken thread around a serious-looking hook bedecked with feathers. Although Logan hadn’t inherited his dad’s love of fishing, he had inherited his build. At seventy, his father still had the same lean, muscular build he’d had Logan’s whole life. The only difference between them was his father’s gray hair and the lines on his face. Which boded well for Logan.

  “Are you coming?” Logan said.

  “In a minute.” When his dad was in the middle of something, there was no hurrying him, or stopping him—he did things at his own pace.

  “I’ll tell Mum you’re coming.”

  His only reply was another grunt. Logan grinned as he jogged back up the path to the house. He worked with an American guy they called Grunt, because he rarely talked, and Logan had once introduced him to his dad. It had been hysterical. A whole conversation in grunts, snorts and growls. It had been like watching an episode of Animal Planet.

  “He’s coming,” he told his mum when he opened the door, grateful the house was warm.

  “I’ll bet he is.” His mum never seemed to get anxious over her husband’s antisocial tendencies. If he didn’t come in for dinner, she made him a plate for later and got on with her life.

  “Hey.” Logan ruffled his son’s hair as he set the table. “How was school?”

  Drew grunted. There were no prizes for guessing who he took after personality-wise.

  “I’ll take that as you had a good day,” Logan said with a smile.

  As they settled in at the pine table in the corner of the kitchen, Logan glanced around the room, feeling the tension of the day melt from him at the sense of being home. His mother had decorated the room in lemon and blue, as she liked bright colors and couldn’t grasp the concept of neutral decorating. Each room in her house was a different color scheme, and she was always tinkering with it. He wasn’t overly fond of the orange living room, but the kitchen was warm and welcoming, with the radiator blasting in the corner and the smell of good food.

  As they passed around the dishes of beef stew, roast potatoes, and bread, Darcy elbowed her older brother. “Ask him,” she hissed.

  Logan wasn’t sure whether he should pretend he hadn’t heard the order or give in to curiosity. Fortunately, he didn’t have to decide because after a scowl at his sister, Drew looked over at him. “Can I go into Fort William on Saturday?”

  Their nearest big town was about an hour away, and they often popped over there for the things they couldn’t get locally. This was the first time Drew had asked to go alone.

  “You want to tell me why?” Logan loaded his plate as he watched his son.

  A slow pink blush filled his cheeks. “No reason. Just some kids from school getting together. We thought we might see a movie and, you know, hang out.”

  “Which kids from school?”

  As the kids’ secondary school was in Fort William and they bussed there every day, Logan hadn’t met all of their friends—yet. But he intended to. He was a hands-on parent, and he liked to get to know the kids they hung out with, even if it meant his house was an open home to their friends. He’d rather they were in his house than roaming around and getting into trouble.

  “Just Zander and Harris, and maybe Zander’s sister…”

  Ah, so there was the reason for the blush. “Zander’s twin sister, right?”

  “Aye.” Drew suddenly found his plate fascinating.

  Meanwhile, his sister was bouncing in her seat, bursting to get in on the conversation. Logan shared a look with his mother, who was trying not to grin.

  “So, can I go?” Drew said.

  “Seeing as I already know Zander and Harris, I don’t see why not.”

  “And Zoe,” Darcy blurted out. “Don’t forget Zoe. She’ll be there too.” She grinned at her brother. “Drew wants to be Zoe’s boyfriend.” The words came out in a delighted rush.

  “Do not!” Drew shouted, but his face was now beetroot red.

  “Do too.” Darcy stabbed the air between them with her finger. “You stare at her all the time, and you go red every time you talk to her. You totally want to be her boyfriend.”

  It looked like Drew’s head was about to explode, so Logan held up his hands to stop them. “Enough, you two. We’re having dinner here. And a guy can be friends with a girl without anything going on.”

  “Exactly,” Drew muttered, before stuffing food in his mouth.

  Logan’s mother gave him a suspiciously sweet smile. “Like you and the new hotel manager?” she said with fake lightness.

  Darcy shot to her feet, the excitement clearly too much for her to stay seated. “Does Dad have a girlfriend?” She looked awestruck.

  “Sit down,” Logan ordered. “No, I don’t have a girlfriend. I’m working a job at the hotel, and that means working with the manager.”

  “The very pretty manager,” his meddling mother said. “I heard you were helping her inspect the storeroom last night.”

  Bloody gossip grapevine. There was no such thing as a s
ecret in Invertary. It had to have been Mrs. Edwards who’d told on him. That woman had already ingratiated herself with the town’s gossipmongers.

  “Things have been going missing from that cupboard,” he said, sounding overly defensive even to his own ears.

  Thankfully, his father chose that moment to come in for dinner. He banged through the door, pulled out his chair, and loaded his plate—all without saying a word. Slowly, he seemed to become aware that no one was talking and stopped dishing up potatoes to look at each of them.

  “What’s going on?” he said.

  “Dad’s got a girlfriend,” Darcy blurted. “He was in a cupboard with her last night.” She frowned and looked over at Logan. “Why were you in a cupboard with your girlfriend?”

  Drew laughed and reached for his water. “I know why kids my age go into cupboards with girls.”

  “Why?” Darcy demanded, her eyes wide. “Were you kissing?”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Logan gave everyone a firm look. They were just amused. Well, except for his dad, who looked confused. “I was investigating some thefts at the hotel, with the hotel manager.”

  “And you just had to examine the store cupboard in the middle of the night, in the dark, with the manager…” his wicked mother said.

  Darcy gasped. “You were kissing in the cupboard!”

  “Caught.” Drew laughed.

  “Why were you in a cupboard?” his dad said. “Why didn’t you take this woman on a proper date? In my day, we took them out for dinner. We didn’t steal kisses in cupboards.”

  “It was work,” Logan said firmly.

  “Oh, I hope you didn’t tell her that,” his mother said. “Women don’t like to hear that sort of thing.”

  It was official. He’d lost control of the conversation.

  “So,” Darcy said, “when can we meet her?”

  “She isn’t my girlfriend,” he tried again, but it was pointless. And he wasn’t about to humiliate himself by admitting that she’d shut him down cold after the world’s most perfect kiss. “This is work. Nothing more. You can get any other ideas out of your head.”

  “He’s seeing her again tonight.” His mum stirred further. “They’re going on a stakeout together.”

  “No. We’re not. Agnes is up to something, and I’m watching her. There’s no together.” It was like explaining physics to toddlers.

  “Agnes?” Darcy said. “Is that her name? It’s lovely.”

  Logan groaned.

  “Come on, Dad,” Drew said, obviously happy he was no longer the center of attention. “You haven’t had a proper girlfriend since Mum left, so it’s about time. But we should definitely get a veto. After all, we are talking about a possible stepmother here.”

  Logan glared at him. “Do you want to go to Fort William on Saturday or not?”

  “I take it back,” Drew said. “It’s totally a work relationship. There’s nothing to see here. Moving on…”

  Logan nodded, satisfied that someone got the message. Then he saw Darcy’s excited face.

  “I’ve always wanted a stepmother,” she gushed. “I’m sure the movies get it wrong—they can’t all be evil.”

  Logan just shook his head as everyone, except his bewildered father, laughed.

  Chapter 8

  It had taken some doing, but Agnes had turned her hotel room into command central. Using her room’s TV, the computer screen from her office, her tablet, and her cell phone, she’d managed to send the signal from each of the cameras they’d set up to different screens. Now she could watch every camera view at the same time. Like an evil mastermind. Or a gamer getting ready for a marathon session.

  There were plenty of snacks and high caffeine drinks stuffed into the mini-fridge. Blankets were draped over the curtains to ensure that anyone outside the hotel would think she was asleep or her room was empty. She’d placed a rolled-up towel at the bottom of her door, to stop any light leaking out, and stuck a Post-it Note over the spy hole to stop light escaping there. To the world, she was asleep. As she normally would have been at past midnight. But instead, she was holed up in her bat cave, jacked up on caffeine and sugar.

  The pub had closed an hour earlier, the staff leaving not long after that. Dougal had been last to go, his dog following close behind. The alarms were set, and the guests were asleep. All she had to do now was wait. Pen poised, ready to note anything suspicious for follow up later, she sat and ate her way through a family-sized bag of Maltesers as she watched the feeds from the security cameras.

  It was like watching paint dry.

  After fifteen minutes, her eyelids began to droop. She jerked up straight, gave herself a shake, and popped another can of Red Bull.

  “Focus,” Agnes muttered to herself. “This is important. Your career depends on it. You already have a bad rep in the hotel industry. You don’t want to get fired from your first job because your boss suspects you’re a thief. Find the real thief. Do a victory dance. Rule the world. You can do this!”

  All she needed to do was get into a rhythm. Sitting on the end of the bed, facing the screens on the dresser in front of her, Agnes worked from left to right. The TV showed a split view from the two hall cameras on the ground floor. The halls were empty. Her desktop computer monitor showed another split view of the first-floor hallway and the store cupboard door. Again, nothing. Her tablet showed a view of the hallway outside her room, with, the main guest rooms on the first floor visible on her cell phone. Her eyes flicked back to the TV, and then she went through the whole routine again…and again…and again…and ag…

  When a knock at the door jerked her awake, she realized she’d fallen asleep at some point and was now lying on the bed, her pen still clutched in her hand. Bleary-eyed, she sat up, and a glance at the tablet showing the view outside her room made her heart sink—Logan.

  “I know you’re in there, and I know you aren’t asleep. Open up.”

  How could he know that? He couldn’t possibly. It was a bluff.

  “Go away. I’m asleep,” she called.

  “You’re watching the security camera feeds. I have the same app, and I can see they’re all being accessed, which means you’re awake.”

  A curse on his detective skills. With a grumble, she crossed the room and threw open her door.

  “What are you doing here in the middle of the night, anyway? I told you I’d call if anything came up.” Was it still the middle of the night? What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Agnes glanced back into the room, but the bedside clock was at the wrong angle so she couldn’t see its face, and as there were no windows in the hallway, she couldn’t go by the sun either.

  As a horrible thought occurred to her, she looked down. Relief flooded her and she smiled. Thank goodness, she wasn’t naked. For a second, she thought she’d stripped to sleep, as she usually did, but she was still wearing the yoga pants and camisole she’d donned for her stakeout.

  “I take it back,” Logan drawled as he watched her. “Looks like you were sleeping on the job after all.” He didn’t so much push past her as stroll into the room.

  “I didn’t invite you in.” But she did shut the door behind him and put the towel back along the bottom of it.

  “I’m not a vampire, so I don’t need an invitation to enter. What are you doing with the towel?”

  “Blocking out light.” Her head was a little foggy, but she was pretty sure he was supposed to be the one experienced in subterfuge.

  Agnes walked over and pointed at her bedside alarm clock. “Ha! I was only asleep for fifteen minutes.” She flopped into the armchair in the corner of the room. “Stakeouts are the worst. How do people do this? It’s mind-numbing.”

  Logan took off his leather jacket and tossed it over the desk chair. “How long have you been staring at the screens?” he asked as he checked the monitors.

  “Years,” she groaned.

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Fine, about an hour.”

  That made him gri
n. “Amateur. You couldn’t even stay awake for more than an hour.”

  She wasn’t about to admit she’d fallen asleep twice in that time. In fact, she would probably still be asleep if he hadn’t come knocking. And right now, she wished he hadn’t.

  Although…

  “How about we do this in shifts?” She batted her lashes at him and flashed, what she hoped was, a non-threatening smile. “You watch while I nap, and then I’ll watch while you nap.”

  “How about you come over here and explain exactly what you’ve set up that makes you so sure someone will try to steal from the hotel tonight?”

  “And then naps?” she asked hopefully.

  There wasn’t much reassurance in his answering grin.

  “Fine,” she grumbled as she crossed the room to sit on the end of the bed facing the screens. She pointed at room ten, where the Dutch couple had been staying. “The de Jongs checked out this morning, but I didn’t have their room prepped for a new arrival. Instead, I spread the word that they were away for the night but would be back tomorrow to pick up their belongings. I made sure to tell housekeeping to keep an eye on the room because there were valuables inside.”

  “Why housekeeping? They go home mid-afternoon.” His eyes were on her and not on the screens.

  “Because they chat and I figured they’d get the word out. Meanwhile, I made sure everyone knew about the new delivery of sundries this morning.” She’d been proud of that part of her plan—it’d gone like clockwork.

  Logan obviously wasn’t as impressed as she was. “You think new soap will attract the thief?”

  “These soaps are handcrafted using pure goat’s milk and organic fragrances. There’s a waiting list of boutique hotels wanting to get this range. The only reason we have it is that I’ve dealt with the company a lot in the past and have a good relationship with them.” And because they hadn’t heard she’d been blacklisted. But she kept that part to herself. “These toiletries are so good that I even bought extra for my personal use.”

  “Okay, okay.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I get it. This is the gold standard of hotel soap. How did you get them here so fast?”

 

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