Dying For a Cupcake: A Devereaux's Dime Store Mystery

by Denise Swanson

  “That had to be an awful commute.” A sprinkle of gold dust sparkled in Coop’s warm brown eyes, and he added, “Part of the condition of my employment was living inside the Shadow Bend city limits, which evidently put off some of the job candidates. But I would have moved here anyway. An hour or more on the highway each way every day is not my idea of a good time.”

  “I doubt anyone enjoys it. At least no one without a helicopter or a Maserati.” I toyed with the teaspoon, hating to end our pleasant conversation. Still, knowing that time was ticking by and I had a lot to do before the cupcake exhibition at three o’clock, I asked. “So, is my second floor structurally okay?”

  “Yes. There was no evidence of any additional fires.” Coop instantly became serious and the sharp planes that appeared in his face made me wondered if there was a touch of Native American blood in his pedigree. “The only damage is to the floor of the small office and you can just throw a rug over the scorch marks.”

  “Tell me about the fire.” I breathed a sigh of relief at his news.

  “Unless the injured woman was trying to roast marshmallows and then accidentally hit herself over the head with that trophy, it’s pretty safe to say it was arson.” Coop grinned, his sexy mouth and firm jaw sending a tingle of appreciation to my girl parts.

  “Well, by my count this is the third attempt on Kizzy’s life, so I’m going to go with rejecting the bonfire theory.” I grinned back.

  “No shit!” Coop’s slight Southern drawl that had been delighting my ear grew more pronounced. “She did seem a touch contrary—someone who made you itch to take her out behind the barn and show her what for and how to—but what in the holy hell did she do to piss off a person that much?”

  “That’s exactly what someone needs to figure out pretty damn soon.” I rinsed out my empty coffee cup and put it on the rack to dry, then came out from behind the soda fountain counter. “Otherwise this whole Cupcake Weekend extravaganza is going to fall faster and flatter than a soufflé in a cold breeze.”

  “Yep.” Coop nodded. “You all need to put a blanket on that horse so no one can see it’s ugly.”

  “Right.” I grinned, enjoying his way of talking.

  “A day-tripper who thinks there might be a murderer running loose is bound to be about as calm as a hog on ice,” Coop added.

  It took me a second to translate, but then I snickered at the picture of Porky sliding across a frozen pond and said, “Precisely.”

  “Too bad, you all have no more chance than a kerosene cat in hell with gasoline drawers on of keeping an attempted murder quiet.”

  After another pause to interpret Coop’s quaint colloquialisms, I agreed with his estimation, and then I asked, “So, is the fire department finished?” It was time to get back to the matter at hand—opening my business back up. “Chief Kincaid said he was sending his crime scene techs over to process my second floor, but I thought you guys were in charge of arson investigations.”

  “Kincaid is reluctantly sharing jurisdiction on this case.” Coop stood and was suddenly so close to me I could feel the heat from his body.

  “Oh.” I nodded stupidly. When had Coop moved? “Chief Kincaid can be a bit of a control freak, but then, who am I to talk?”

  “I find intense women mighty fetchin’.” Coop’s smile was suggestive. “They seem more passionate about everything they do.”

  “Really?” I wasn’t sure I liked the suggestive tone of his voice . . . but then again, I wasn’t sure that I didn’t. “I don’t know if that’s true. Most people find me somewhat aloof, even coldhearted.”

  “Maybe those folks don’t look far enough beneath the surface.” Coop pushed a loose curl behind my ear and raised an eyebrow.

  “Perhaps.” I stepped out of his reach. His strong callused fingers had sent a thrill through my body, and even though he radiated a vitality that drew me like a duck to bread crumbs, I knew I had to put a stop to the electricity flickering between us. “But on the other hand, there may not be anything underneath but more ice.”

  “It would be mighty fun to find out.” Coop leaned an impressive shoulder against a shelving unit and crossed his arms. “Are you married?”

  I shook my head.

  “Engaged?”

  “No.”

  “In a committed relationship with one guy?” His smile had grown wider with each question and answer, until now he was beaming.

  “Uh . . .” I stuttered, searching for a way to describe my love life that didn’t make me sound either a complete ditz or the worst kind of slut. “Sort of.”

  “How can the answer be sort of?” Coop straightened and narrowed his eyes. “If it’s not a definite yes, then you aren’t.”

  How to explain the situation with Noah and Jake? I pondered the problem, then said, “It’s complicated. My whole existence is complicated.” I sensed that I was blushing, something I rarely did, and it made me feel like a ten-year-old with her first crush. “Believe me; you don’t want to get into the middle of my messy life.”

  “I’m partial to complicated.” Coop peered at me intently. “Keeps things interesting.” He shrugged. “After all, no one calls nine-one-one if they’re having a good day. Most firefighters are adrenaline junkies, so we don’t do well with predictable or simple. I find it’s best not to let myself get bored.”

  Having no rejoinder to that, I decided it was time to change the subject. Turning my back to him, I pretended to be unaffected by his teasing tone, but I couldn’t help myself from noticing the tingle of excitement his words had ignited. Why was it that opportunity only knocked once, but temptation repeatedly used a battering ram? I rearranged some merchandise until I had myself under control.

  Finally, clearing my throat, I said, “Be that as it may”—Shit! I sounded like an uptight spinster—“there’s a cupcake contest to deal with, and within the hour I have to get those two display units currently sitting in the large room upstairs over to Gossip Central or I’ll be in big trouble.” I walked away from where Coop stood. “Chief Kincaid said he won’t release the second floor until late this afternoon, which leaves me with a problem that I need to concentrate on.”

  “Maybe I can help you with that,” Coop said. “As I stated earlier, this is a joint investigation and Kincaid doesn’t have the last word.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Before I even turned around, I knew Coop was behind me. His scent tugged at some primitive female response deep inside me. “But I don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”

  “I’m sure I could think of something that would even the score.” Coop’s expression was innocent and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Do you sew? I need some patches put on my duty shirts.”

  “Sorry.” My feeble attempt to construct an apron in home ec class popped into my head and I winced. “I’m all thumbs with a needle and thread.”

  “Hmm.” He moved a little closer. “How about baking? I sure do miss my mama’s made-from-scratch brown sugar pound cake with rum glaze.”

  “I’m sure my grandmother could whip that up for you, but baking isn’t my thing.” I pondered what I could offer him that didn’t include me getting naked and horizontal. Wait a minute! Where had that thought come from? I’d only met the guy a few hours ago.

  “Then you’d be in your grandma’s debt.” Coop shook his head. “So, what are you good at? I’m sure you have a talent that I’d like.”

  “I doubt you need your books balanced or the perfect gift basket.” I watched him closely. I did need his help, so I had to figure out something I could give him in exchange for riling up Chief Kincaid. “How about some investment advice?”

  “Nope.” Coop frowned. “If I want to gamble, I’ll put my money on a sweet little filly in the fifth race at Hialeah.”

  “Then I’m stumped.” My shoulders sagged. I really needed his help.

  “You said you don’t bake.”
Coop’s eyes brightened. “Do you cook?”

  “I make a mean lasagna dinner,” I admitted. My other specialty was eggs Benedict, but that smacked of breakfast and I wasn’t going there.

  “Homemade marinara sauce?” Coop asked, his expression hopeful.

  “Yes, sir.” I sketched a mock salute. “Caesar salad and garlic bread, too.”

  “I’ve been hankering for a meal that didn’t come out of the freezer or a cardboard box or from a local carryout joint.” Coop licked his lips. “How about I get you those cupcake displays and you promise to come to my place and make me an Italian feast? Chianti’s on me.”

  “I thought firehouses had good cooks.” I raised a skeptical brow. “Aren’t you getting homemade food at work?”

  “When I’m on duty, yes,” Coop admitted. “I’m talking about when I’m on my own.” He crossed his arms. “So, do we have a deal or not?”

  I wrenched my attention from my ridiculous preoccupation with his handsome face—he was too attractive by far—and I stuck out my hand. “Deal.”

  Instead of shaking, Coop leaned forward, planted a soft kiss on my cheek, then walked toward the stairs, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll go get those cupcake stands. I think they’ll fit in the back of my unit so I can run them over to Gossip Central for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Getting them released from the crime scene is enough,” I protested, but remembered that when I realized that we wouldn’t be reopening the store until evening, I’d sent Hannah and Dad home. By the time I reached my father and asked him to come back with his Grand Cherokee, it might be too late. Which meant I had no other way of getting the displays over to Poppy’s place. “But it’s really sweet of you to offer.”

  “No problem.” Coop turned and his hot chocolate gaze met mine. “I look forward to collecting my payment.”

  My heart turned over in response and I realized I was smiling. I wiped the idiotic grin from my face and said, “Let me know when you want your lasagna dinner and Sinclair Catering Service will be there.”

  “How about Monday night?” He winked. “All the cupcake people will be gone and we can relax.”

  “I never relax,” I cautioned him, then watched his sexy rear end as he took the stairs two at a time.

  Shaking my head, I dug out my cell to call Poppy and tell her the displays were on their way. He was so damn good-looking and his powerful presence really resonated with something inside me. What combination of Karma and chemistry had put me in this position? For years, I hadn’t felt a spark with any of the men I dated, and now I was attracted to not one, not two, but three guys. I had been either very, very good in a past life or extremely bad. Sadly, I suspected that it was the latter, as I couldn’t see myself wearing wings and a halo in any incarnation.

  CHAPTER 13

  Whistling Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger,” Coop started his Ford Expedition. He purely loved competition, and doing battle for a girl’s affections didn’t scare him one little bit. In fact, it revved his motor. As did feisty gals with generous curves and red amber hair that reminded him of the heart of a fire. He could still see the bumfuzzled expression in Dev’s pretty blue-green eyes as she tried to deny the attraction that had sizzled between them.

  Looking into his rearview mirror as he backed into the road, Coop caught sight of the huge neon pink Ferris wheel and bright yellow roller coaster wedged in the cargo area of his SUV and felt a twinge of guilt. His mama would have tanned his backside for misleading Devereaux into believing that he was going against the police chief and sneaking those cupcake stands out of a crime scene, when in reality he’d just asked the techs to dust the displays for prints ASAP and then taken them as soon as they finished.

  It hadn’t been exactly chivalrous to bend the truth, and letting Dev think she owed him a favor wasn’t any too gallant, either. But how else was he going to get her to agree to see him again? It was clear that she was already involved with some romantic situation that was addling her brain and wasn’t too keen on adding another guy to the mix.

  Coop hated to disappoint his mama, but Miss Laura Jane McCall might just cheer him on if it meant him finding a good woman, settling down, and producing grandbabies. Having settled the matter of his slight detour from the path of true righteousness with his conscience, he sat back and enjoyed the ride out to Gossip Central.

  Patting the Expedition’s leather-covered steering wheel, Coop grinned. He’d been mighty pleased his first day as chief when the city council presented him with the keys to a brand-spanking-new command unit. The bright red Ford was tricked out with light bars, sirens, long- and short-range radio antennas, bumper guards, communications systems, souped-up engine, and all sorts of other cool equipment.

  He’d wondered how a small town like Shadow Bend could afford such an awesome vehicle. But then one of his men had given him the scoop regarding the feud between the mayor and the police chief. The guy had explained that because of the vendetta, the lion’s share of the money that would normally have had to be split with the police was allocated for the fire department.

  Coop felt kind of sorry for Kincaid, but the situation sure worked for him. And as a young first-time chief, he needed all the advantages he could get. He liked Shadow Bend. It was a nice community that reminded him of home. Small towns fit his personality better than big cities, and now that he’d met Dev, he intended to stick around for a long, long time. Maybe the rest of his life.

  It was one fifty-eight when he turned into Gossip Central’s crowded parking lot. Dev had emphasized that the deadline for delivery was two o’clock, so he pulled the Expedition up to the back entrance and honked. As he was wrestling the five-foot-tall Ferris wheel from the back of the SUV, the door swung open and his jaw dropped. Outside of the movies or magazines, he’d never seen such a gorgeous woman.

  As she walked toward him, her long white-blond curls seemed to float in the breeze. When she got closer, he saw that her eyes looked exactly like the violets that his granny grew in a pot on the shelf over her kitchen sink. This gal looked like a fairy princess. Well, except for the pissed-off expression on her beautiful face. But even that couldn’t make her any less stunning.

  Wow! He was definitely staying in Shadow Bend forever. The ladies here were incredible. He crossed his fingers that the men weren’t as impressive. Without being vain, Coop knew that he was passably good-looking and there were always firehouse groupies who wanted to sleep with firefighters. On the other hand, there were a lot of women who weren’t thrilled with the idea of dating a guy who ran into burning buildings for a living. A man who could never guarantee that he’d be around for a holiday. He sure hoped that his occupation wouldn’t be a negative for the gals in his new hometown.

  Flashing his dimples, Coop held out his hand and said, “I’m Coop McCall. Dev sent me with the cupcake displays. Are you Poppy?”

  “That I am.” Poppy place her fingers in his outstretched palm and nodded toward the words stenciled on the side of the Ford. “And you must be our new fire chief. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Coop noticed that Poppy barely squeezed his hand, while Dev’s grip had been firm. He imagined that wasn’t the only difference between these two women. “Where would you like the stands?”

  “They go in the Hayloft.” Poppy’s gaze was speculative. “I’ll get one of my guys to carry them up there. Why don’t you come in and have a beer?” She winked. “You can tell me how Dev persuaded the fire chief to run errands for her. She’s not usually so . . .”

  “So?” Coop asked, scowling. He’d understood Dev to say that Poppy was one of her best friends. Was the striking club owner implying that Dev wasn’t attractive enough to get men to help her?

  After a moment of thought, Poppy finished her sentence. “So ready to accept favors.” She smoothed her palms over her tiny waist and slim hips. “Dev tends to be unwilling to depend on the kindn
ess of strangers. I, on the other hand, am more than happy to let men do things for me.” She winked. “In fact, I encourage it.”

  “Yeah.” Coop nodded. “Dev did strike me as the independent type.”

  “Very perceptive.” Poppy tilted her head. “Are you coming in?”

  “Sure.” Coop was off duty, but since he was driving an official vehicle, he said, “But, if you have it, I’ll take a Dew rather than a brew.”

  “Sure.” Poppy marched through the outer door, pointed to an office off the hallway, and said, “Have a seat in there. The contest cupcakes should be arriving any minute, and I can listen for the delivery better back here.” She waved as she walked away. “I’ll get your pop and tell the boys to take the displays to the Hayloft.”

  Coop settled into a folding chair and watched the club owner walk away. She was wearing some sort of stretchy black jumpsuit that looked as if it were spray-painted to her butt. He appreciated the plunging neckline but wasn’t sure about the elbow-length leather gloves with metal studs or the pointy-toed high-heeled ankle boots. Both those items seemed as though they could inflict some serious pain, and no way, no how was he into that kind of kinky stuff.

  When Poppy returned, Coop was examining a picture of Dev, Poppy, and some guy. She handed him a can of Mountain Dew, then sank gracefully into her desk chair and said, “So, tell me what happened at the dime store.”

  Coop outlined the facts, finishing with, “Dev tells me this is the third crack on that cupcake gal’s life. What else happened to her?”

  “There was a hit-and-run last night, but Dev pushed Kizzy out of the way.” Poppy tented her fingers. “As for the other try, Dev and I haven’t had a chance to talk about it, but my guess is that Dev must think that Fallon’s death was murder, and the killer was after Kizzy, not her assistant.”

  “The police must agree since Kincaid is all over the situation,” Cooper mused, then asked, “Is the chief any relation to you?”