by Gina LaManna
“Matt,” I said happily. “What brings you around?”
He had both hands behind his back and looked decidedly more chipper than the day before. Which wasn’t hard to do, seeing as he’d been a shadow of his former self after finding Shania’s body on his back porch. Not that I blamed him one bit.
He gave me the first smile I’d seen in over twenty-four hours, but it faded quickly as he glanced at my forehead. “What happened to you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve got a huge welt on your head.” Matt stepped closer, removing one hand from behind his back. He raised it, brushed a thumb lightly across the spot where I’d banged it on the cupboard. “How’d you hurt yourself?”
I grumped. “Trying to make coffee.”
Matt’s hand froze on my forehead, his face stiffening. At first, it looked like he was dismayed, upset even, but his expression quickly turned to one of amusement. He gave a bark of laughter that sounded involuntary, judging by the way he raised a hand to cover his mouth and hide a smile.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope,” I grumbled. “This is why I sneak over to your house every morning. I put myself in physical danger every time I try to cook.”
“Then it’s a good thing I came by before you took off your head completely.” Matt removed the other hand from behind his back, bringing it around to expose a carryout tray marked with the logo from June’s cafe.
“I woke up this morning and got to thinking: How can I expect Jenna McGovern to function without her Saturday morning coffee?”
My mouth dropped open. “You didn’t.”
“It’s my fault you had to go without this morning,” Matt said as he glanced at my forehead. “I’m sorry.”
“None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you for any of it.” The conversation turned somber at once. To avoid a trip into Debbie Downersville, I quickly added, “I mean the bonk to the head. That’s thanks to the old coffee pot I tried to revive with toilet paper and expired decaf. It didn’t work.”
I reached for one of the large coffee cups and wrapped my hands around it, relieved to see the shadow pass from Matt’s face. He watched as I inhaled the first sip of coffee, a smile tilting his lips upward when I groaned with satisfaction.
“My Saturday morning wouldn’t be complete without sharing a coffee with Jenna McGovern.” Matt winked, then fumbled for the small takeaway bag balanced on the coffee carrier. “That’s for you, too. Scone and an egg sandwich. Thought you might need some sustenance to get you through until you could make it to June’s on your own.”
“You spoil me, Matt Bridges,” I said, greedily reaching for the bag. “I wish I had enough shame to decline your goodies, but I’m afraid I don’t. I’m starving, and there’s not a shred of food in the house.”
Matt winked. “I figured.”
“You know me too well,” I said. “I would die of starvation without you. Why don’t you come inside? I don’t need all this to myself. Have a seat. I want to hear—” I was going to say how you’re doing, but again, that would have turned the conversation into a dark alley I wasn’t interested in traipsing through at the moment. Instead, I changed gears. “Any plans for the day?”
Matt wasn’t an idiot. He knew what I was going to say and why I’d changed the subject. His smile melted into a more demure one. “Actually, I have to head out.”
“Working today?”
“No,” he said. “Though I should prepare for tonight.”
“You? Prepare for tonight?” I blinked at him. “What do you have to do, take a shower and run a hand through your hair?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
“It’s not like you’re going to be on stage.”
“Neither are you.”
“Touché,” I agreed. “You really can’t stay for a bite to eat?”
“I should get going.” He dodged the question. “I’ll see you around.”
“Are you avoiding me?”
“Would I have brought you coffee if I was avoiding you?”
“You’re dodging the question again,” I said. “Why won’t you stay? I want a straight answer.”
“I told you already, Jenna. I don’t want you involved in this. Any of it.”
“Yet you showed up here at my door.”
“Only to prevent you having to go to the hospital for a concussion.”
I eked out a smile, but it didn’t shake me from the conversation at hand. “Funny. It worked, but I think that was just luck.”
He exhaled, scratched at his chin, stalling. “I came over here because I wanted to check on you. I hate that you’re over here by yourself.”
“I’m not by myself,” I said. “Angela has turned her binoculars on me at least six times over the last twenty-four hours. If there was any trouble, you’d have heard about it.”
He cracked a smile. “I don’t like the idea of you out here alone.”
“You say that like I’m in the boonies. We live in a neighborhood, Matt. I’m hardly alone. Okay, I’m alone in my house, but I’m used to it.”
“I know.”
“I’m an independent woman.”
“I know that, too.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know.”
“So?” I shrugged. “Nothing to worry about. It’s a lot safer out here than it was in LA.” I frowned. “Well, now that I think about it, I was never accused of murder in Los Angeles.”
“It’s not about that. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay.”
“I know you’ve sort of adopted me as your pity project—”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s a little true. You took me under your wing when I moved back to town, and I’m fine with it. I appreciate it more than you know. But it’s getting to the point where I’m not new around here anymore.”
“Jenna...”
“I’ve got to learn how to make my own coffee. Get a car. Fend for myself.” I paused, held up the coffee cup Matt had brought over. “I failed my first test, but I’ll get better at it. In fact, I’m going to go to the grocery store today. You guys have one here, right?”
Matt grinned. “Promise me one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get too self-sufficient,” Matt said, taking a step back and giving me a wink. “I’ve grown fond of your sneaking over to my place in the mornings.”
I thumbed at my forehead. “All that independent talk? I’m full of hot air. Don’t worry, there will be plenty more visits from a starving Jenna in search of food.”
Matt gave a wave, and we said our goodbyes. He stepped off the porch, hopped in his truck, and gave a final wave as he pulled away. I retreated inside with my goodies, only to glance at the clock and wonder why I felt like I’d forgotten something.
A moment later, my phone rang. “Hello?”
“Jenna?!” May’s voice rang tinny across the line. “I thought you said you’d meet us here?”
“Where? Oh, crap. I forgot to ask my mom to borrow her truck. I was so tired last night, and this morning—”
“Enough with the excuses. Get your well-dressed tush over here,” May said. “We managed to stall for you, but if you don’t get here soon, your slot’s going to be given up to a walk-in. This place is crazy today.”
“I’ll be there in...” I hesitated. “Twenty minutes.”
I glanced outside, saw zero cars in my driveway, which would make getting to Butternut Babes in time for my hair appointment somewhat difficult. I debated calling my mother, but she’d be busy at the store already. I’d missed the boat to borrow her car. Matt had made it clear that aside from checking in on me, he didn’t want anything to do with me.
Allie was already at the hair salon. That left one person I really didn’t want to call. But it was either I picked up the phone and made it across town, or I sat at home and missed out on all that hot gossip at the salon where Shania Boot had worked before she
’d died.
I picked up the phone.
“WHAT’D YOU DO TO YOUR head?”
“Good to see you, too,” I said, climbing into Cooper Dear’s police cruiser. “You look nice on this beautiful Saturday morning.”
Cooper gave his famous lopsided smile, then turned his head to glance out the window. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m your last resort this morning?”
“Because you are.”
“Gee whiz, thanks.”
“Now we’re even.”
“You never did explain what happened to your head.”
I flipped the visor mirror down as Cooper pulled away from my house. There was an unbecoming red lump right in the center of my forehead. “I was trying to make coffee.”
“Ah.”
“I don’t like that tone of yours, mister.”
“So, that’s what happens when Matt isn’t around?”
“I’m not going to answer your nosy questions. This isn’t an interview.”
“No, it’s a conversation,” Cooper said, flicking his gaze over toward me. “It’s what two people do when they’re alone.”
“Look, I appreciate the ride, but we don’t have to talk.”
“That’s not how this cab service works,” Cooper said. “I like to talk while I drive.”
“Then tell me about yourself,” I said. “Who are you going to bid on tonight?”
“I’m not bidding.”
“But you’re a police officer. Isn’t that basically a requirement?”
“There’s nobody I’m interested in bidding on.”
“It’s not about that. It’s about charity. You could bid on Linda—she bought a new dress for the occasion. And some alarming lingerie.”
Cooper’s eyebrows flew up. His cheeks turned a bit pink as he gave a muted cough. “I think I’ll pass. The older guys are thinking there’ll be a bidding war over her.”
“Who would’ve thought?”
“Blueberry Lake,” Cooper said in explanation. “Sometimes things just don’t make sense.”
“What’s the cheapest you think I could get a car?”
“What?”
“You know, a functioning, running vehicle,” I said. “I’ve got about three hundred bucks in my bank account if we hurry. You know, before my credit card comes due.”
“Why are you in such a rush? You can walk everywhere you need to get. Your mom’s store, June’s café, Matt’s...”
I frowned. “I need to do things like buy groceries and go places. I’m an adult. I should have a car and not have to beg my cousin or the chief of police for a ride to the beauty salon.”
“It’s Blueberry Lake,” Cooper said again. “You can get away with things like that around here.”
“I want my freedom,” I said. “I thought you might have an idea of where I could go to get a car on the cheap. Then again, you’re probably the wrong person to ask. You’ll only tell me about all the legal places.”
He barked a laugh. “That’s true. Although, if I were really hankering to prove you wrong, I might tell you there’s a garage on the outskirts of Sugarland Shores called Eddie’s. Your three hundred bucks will probably go a lot further down there if you don’t care about things like paint color and clean titles.”
I stared at Cooper. “Did you just give me directions to a shady garage?”
Cooper’s shoulders stiffened. “It was a joke.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
I leaned over, gave him an elbow and a sly grin. “I am so proud of you! Look at Cooper Dear breaking all the rules.”
He grumbled something about me being a bad influence.
“I’ll take it,” I chirped. “And maybe later you can take me down to Eddie’s.”
Another of his eyebrows crooked, and the corner of his lips raised into a grin. “You’re going to take a cop with you when trying to purchase a probably-stolen vehicle?”
“You’ve got a good point,” I said. “Maybe you wouldn’t mind waiting in the car.”
Cooper gave another laugh. “You are something else.”
“Thank you for the ride,” I said, once we pulled to a stop in front of Butternut Babes. “I’m running late, or else I’d offer to buy you a coffee or something for the effort.”
“I’ll take the coffee some other time,” Cooper volunteered. “So long as it’s on me. Save your three hundred bucks for Eddie’s.”
I grinned as I climbed out of the car. “You got it.”
“Jenna—” Cooper’s hand reached over and grabbed my wrist before I could pull it out of the vehicle. “One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t think I’m not well aware why you’re here.”
“Here?” I gave him a confused look. “You mean, in your car? At the salon?”
“Are you participating in the Bachelorette Ball tonight?”
“If participating can be described as sitting in the audience, then yes, I am.”
“Exactly. So, you don’t need your hair done.”
“I always need my hair done.”
“And you choosing this particular salon—for the first time ever—has nothing to do with the fact that Shania Boot was working here when she died?”
“I suppose you would know that,” I mused, “seeing as you’re the cop investigating the case.”
Cooper winked. “Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, Jenna. I know everything.”
“Okay then. I’m just here as support for May and Allie. And because my split ends are horrendous.”
Cooper’s eyes flicked to my hair. “You look fine.”
“Well, maybe tonight I’ll look better than fine.”
Cooper opened his mouth to respond, then he seemed to reconsider whatever he was about to say. “Maybe,” he said finally. “Well, I’d say call me if you need a ride back, but I don’t want word to get out that I’m a taxi service or else my cell phone will never stop ringing. It’s already bad enough with people calling me to change lightbulbs or chase lost lizards.”
“Got it,” I said. “Tell everyone you were questioning me or something.”
“See you, Jenna.”
“Thanks for the advice on Eddie.”
I shut the door before Cooper and I lingered any longer in the parking lot. A few more minutes, and my hair slot would be given to someone else—and my split ends really couldn’t stand the rejection. Especially not if I wanted to prove Cooper Dear wrong and look better than ‘fine’ at tonight’s event.
I strode inside and stopped at the front desk. A young woman with Little Mermaid-red hair smiled up at me from behind the counter. According to the sparkling tag on the desk, her name was Kendra.
“Hello, can I help you?” she asked. “Welcome to Butternut Babes. You must be new here—I recognize most of the regulars.”
“Er, yes,” I said. “I have an appointment, but my cousin set it up. It might be under her name?”
“Oh, you must be talking about May.” Kendra gave a bright smile. “Yes, she and Allie are in the back now. I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.”
The eyes of several women lounging in the waiting room shifted over to me as I tried to blend in with the vials of shampoos and curling irons on the walls. Their glances were filled with curiosity and intrigue, and I knew the second I left, there’d be mutters. There always were in towns this size. Despite my telling Matt I wasn’t new around these parts any longer, the truth was that I was new. Which meant gossip.
“There you are!” May leapt from her seat. She had curlers in her hair and a smile on her face. She swept into the lobby and grabbed me mid-check-in with a quick, “She’s with me.”
“I don’t think they’re all that happy with me,” I said, nodding toward the lobby. “I got some side-eyes.”
“Yeah, because you showed up late for your appointment,” May said with an eye roll, “and we saved you a seat. It’s very competitive to get an appointment at But
ternut Babes—especially on the day of a huge event.”
“I didn’t know the Bachelorette Ball brought on such competitive feelings.”
“Are you joking?” May retorted. “It’s like, one of the biggest events of the year second to Christmas. It’s the equivalent of senior prom. Last year, Stacey Simone won the biggest bid by a thousand dollars, and she’s been, like, the queen bee of the hot single women for the past year.”
I thought back to the woman who’d led bingo. “Interesting. Who bid on her?”
“Lots of people. Rumor is she’s into...” May’s voice dropped to an impossible decibel and she leaned in, “some interesting things.”
“What sort of interesting?”
“I don’t know.” She scowled. “Joe wouldn’t tell me. He said it was locker room talk and not fit for a lady’s ears.”
“That’s a load of baloney.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Stacey Simone,” I said. “Who would’ve thought?”
May shrugged. “Take a seat. I’ve told Ellen you’ll take a trim and a blowout.”
“I thought maybe an updo?”
May glanced at me, shook her head. “Nope, sorry. You’re going glam tonight. Hair down and gorgeous. You wear it in a bun too much as it is.”
“I like it out of my face. I prefer to shine with my shoes.”
“Tonight’s not the night for practicality,” May said. “Tonight’s the night to wow.”
I was all set to continue arguing, but before I opened my mouth, I thought back to Cooper’s near-challenge in the car. Maybe he hadn’t meant it as a challenge—but I’d taken it as one.
“That sounds good,” I said. “But I’ve been thinking, I don’t really have a nice enough dress to wear. I mean, I have plenty of dresses, but apparently I underestimated the importance of this ball.”
“Don’t worry,” Allie chirped from under a hairdryer. The level of her voice was that of someone shouting. “We’ve got you covered.”
I tried to mask the low groan that emerged at the thought of Allie styling me for an important local event. May, however, caught sight of the stricken expression probably overtaking my face, and gave me an elbow and a wink.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I picked it out.”