“This is for you,” he interjected. He thrust the round container her way. “I brought you soup as well.”
Super sweet? No. The super sweetest! “Thank you, Beau. I love it.”
He blinked at her. “You haven’t even tasted it. It’s not from Daisy’s. I, uh, made it. On my own.”
From scratch soup? Super sweeter than the super sweetest! “It smells delicious, and now I have dinner. So about that deal. You’re keeping your end of the bargain, yes?”
“I’ll call you about the date, okay?” he said, spinning and hurrying away. He disappeared around the house. Heading for the front, where his truck was parked?
“I consider that a definite yes,” she called after him. Before he could reply with a refusal, she shut the door.
“Date?” Conrad asked, walking over.
She turned and faced him, then leaned against the wall, keeping a few feet of distance between them. “A double. Hey, speaking of, do you know a single man who might be willing to have dinner with me? Unless this is a conflict of interest?”
“I’m still confused.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Double date?”
“I’m setting Beau up with this really great girl, possibly, but he insists I bring a date too. Therefore, I’m on the prowl.”
“He insists,” Conrad echoed.
“I think he’s shy, and I’m a safety net.” Maybe. “Everyone needs a support system.” And moments ago, Beau had been willing to be hers. Right now, she held his homemade soup in her hands. So yes, she would be his support—his friend— in return.
“I get that. But why do you want to meet one of my friends?” Hard tone. Harder glint in his eyes.
Was he…jealous?
Her heart thudded, and she shuffled around him to set the new soup on the counter. But she didn’t take her seat. She kept her back to him. This was about to turn embarrassing, but she decided to spill the truth. “No one in town is interested in me and that’s okay, because I’m not interested in any of them either. Truth be told, I’m pretty anti-relationships.”
“Explain,” he said before she could continue.
Well. He asked for it so… “I’m a victim of the Ladling curse, and that’s all I’m willing to say.”
He moved directly behind her, the scent of spice enveloping her, leaving her weak in the knees. She breathed deep.
Conrad sifted a lock of her hair between his fingers. “One day soon, we’ll dissect this curse together. I want every detail, and you’ll give them to me. But I won’t be introducing you to any of my friends, Jane. When you go on that double date with Beau, I will be at your side. Me.”
Her mouth parted and for a heart-stopping moment, Jane thought Conrad might spin her around and kiss her.
In the end, he put his lips at her ear and rasped, “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Then he stalked out of her house, leaving her reeling.
Chapter Seven
Anne Mathis
Shhh, I’m sleeping.
Plot 859, Garden of Memories
From bad to better to the best.
Jane occupied the passenger seat of Beau’s pickup truck. Muted sunlight filled the cab, filtered through the thousand layers of dust that covered every window. On both her left and right, trees whizzed past. Cars, too. Behind the steering wheel, Beau brooded at a level of ten on a scale of five. The perfect amount. Not too much, not too little.
He’d kept his word and called this morning. Plus, he’d agreed to her plan. Everything from the trip to SCP—Summerhill Community Pediatric—to the date with Eunice Park or Ana Irons. He hadn’t even protested more than a dozen times.
Protests her deepest fears echoed. No, no. Not fears. Wisdoms. Experience told her: Don’t take Conrad.
But a new voice rose from the shadows. Hope whispered, Give him a shot.
If she guarded her heart, keeping it locked inside a concrete cage, she probably wouldn’t encounter any problems. Except, what if there was already a crack spreading through the cement?
Goodnight, sweetheart.
“Explain why we’re doing this again.” Beau merged the truck onto the highway, picking up speed.
Jane pulled her thoughts from the seductive purr of memory and focused on the matter at hand. “The murder victim volunteered at SCP. I’d like to question other volunteers and patients about their thoughts of him. Who slept with him or heard rumors about someone else who did, and whether or not they ever hunted treasures with him. But that’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all?”
His dry tone drew a laugh from her. “We’re also having fun,” she said. “Well, as much fun as we can at a memorial service. And I can’t thank you enough for doing this. For everything.” When she’d gotten sick in the past, she’d phoned a temp agency or put a Closed sign on the door, and let the place handle itself.
“I had the time. No big deal.”
Wrong. Big deal. Huge. “You deserved to be paid for your work, Beau. Please, I’m begging you, give me a bill.” Did he think he owed her for something in their childhood?
“Sure,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.
Frustrating man! “In the meantime,” she said with a firm nod, “I’m buying your lunch and filling your truck with gas, and I won’t hear any arguments on the matter. I’m also planning the best double date in the history of histories. In fact, I’ve already found your perfect match.” Why not rip the bandage?
His brows dropped. “My match?”
“She’s amazing, I swear! You will love her, probably. She—”
“No, don’t tell me.” He gave a clipped shake of his head. Already nervous? “I’ll learn what I need to know on the date. Are you bringing Conrad?”
She bit her lip and ran a finger along her seatbelt. “Yes. I think so. Yes.”
A stilted pause before he grudgingly admitted, “I don’t hate him. He’s not a terrible guy.”
They really had worked together. “What changed?”
“I had a friend look into him. He’s well-respected. Known for being honest, even when it hurts. A loner ”
“Wait. Why did you have your friend look into him?”
“What about the Ladling curse?” he said in lieu of an answer.
Had she spilled her greatest flaw to him, too? “First of all, I said I wanted to date Conrad, not marry him, so the curse has no bearing on the situation,” she sputtered. “I’m never getting married. I’ll bask in the love glow of other couples. What about you? Willing to take the plunge one day?”
He drew in a breath. “Let me think about my answer before I respond.”
“Think away. I have my own thoughts to unravel.” Except, for once she didn’t.
Jane peered out the window the rest of the drive, watching trees and cars whiz past, enjoying the reflective silence. As Beau parked across from their destination, she studied the center. Not what she expected. A large metal building, almost a barn, complete with shuttered windows and a wraparound porch. Lush green grass. A smattering of rose bushes and peach trees. Looked like a home away from home, a farmhouse with an edge. A handful of cars peppered the parking lot, a cluster of women dressed in black making their way inside.
She had opted to wear black as well. A more form-fitting dress than usual, sewn by Grandma Lily. Her I am an independent woman, take me seriously outfit. Best to blend in with confidence when you were crashing a memorial.
“Stay there. Don’t move.” Beau exited and rounded the car. The sunlight loved him more than ever, the gold in his skin and hair almost otherworldly. He wore a white button-down and dark slacks, his soldier’s body stretching the material.
Jane bet Eunice or Ana ended up feeling incredibly safe with him. As the couple built something lasting, Jane wouldn’t have to worry about losing everything just as things got good; unlike Jane, Eunice and Ana had a bright romantic future ahead.
Why, why, why must curses be real?
As Beau opened her door and offered her a hand, his expression remained as warm as th
e spring day. Fiona would be cheering his impeccable manners.
“Thank you,” she said, cupping her fingers to his and beaming as he helped her exit. “Come on.” She hooked her arm through his and urged him forward. “I’m counting on you to charm and distract every woman we encounter so I can unearth their deepest, darkest secrets.”
“Then you brought the wrong guy. Charm isn’t my strong suit.”
“No offense, but that might be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. Charm comes in many forms, my friend, and with you, grumpy is one of them. You are absolutely adorable when you brood. Yes, just like that. See?” She patted his cheek. “Adorable.”
He blinked down at her with a comical mix of incredulity and—dare she believe it?—amusement. “Adorable. Me. That’s a first.”
They entered the reception area. As if drawn by an invisible force, she zoomed her attention to the back of the room, where a buffet table of snacks waited. Mmm. Finger sandwiches, the best of all sandwiches. Cookies. Cupcakes. Chips and dip. Her empty stomach grumbled, and she licked her lips.
Inner shake. People first, food second. Right. Bouquets of flowers abounded, perfuming every inhalation. Long tables displayed pictures of Dr. Hotchkins, both from his personal life and his job. Oh! How perfect.
Roughly thirty mourners milled around. Some grouped together, chatting about the doctor. Others remained alone, smiling or crying while studying the photos. Jane found every single one of them suspicious in some way or another. Especially those two. The most intent studiers. She’d memorized the face and bio of every employee listed on the clinic’s website. Now, she had only to insert herself—oh crap!
“Conrad,” she whispered. Her pulse leaped, and her stomach fluttered. He was here, looking drool-worthy in a suit and tie, and he stared right at her. He’d told her not to investigate, yet here she was, investigating.
Her mouth opened while his lips pressed together in a thin line.
He dragged a heating gaze down her dress. When he met her eyes once again, his irises were ablaze and hot enough to torch her composure. She halfway expected him to stomp across the room and throw her over his impressively wide shoulder. Which she absolutely positively would not enjoy, probably. Instead, he raised his chin and returned his attention to his companion. Another employee she recognized. Dr. Diana Williams. An attractive, forty-something general practitioner who specialized in chronic conditions. One of Dr. Hotchkins’s side slices?
“Your agent noticed you the moment you walked in,” Beau told her.
He did? If she hadn’t waxed poetic about the sandwiches, she might have noticed him right away too. “Help me avoid him, okay? He’ll tell me to leave the moment he’s near me.”
“That,” Beau replied, suddenly vibrating with amusement, “I can do.”
He wasn’t wrong. He dodged and evaded, and he did it well. As Jane made several passes around the room, speaking to different people, sneaking notes into her investigation pad, Beau ran interference.
Something she learned for their efforts: She had no stealth. Dr. Hotchkins had been adored or hated and nothing in between. Everyone he’d ever encountered had a motive—more than she’d realized in the beginning. Jane was now addicted to cucumber sandwiches, and the doctor had always brought a nurse to SCP. Usually the same one. A woman matching Emma Miller’s description, who just happened to go by the name of Nurse Emma. Once, the two were caught kissing after hours.
Affair confirmed and then some.
“—wanted to know about a time this drunk lawyer stormed into the clinic and punched the doctor in the face,” the person beside Jane was saying. Oh right. She was in the middle of eavesdropping on a gossip session between a volunteer who had worked alongside Dr. Hotchkins.
Who had wanted to know about the lawyer? Conrad?
“How terrible,” the girlfriend said. “Did anyone ever identify the assailant?”
“No. Dr. Hotchkins refused to press charges.”
A lawyer? Emma’s husband, perhaps? Anthony Miller. The couple had just solidified their place as number one and two on her lists of suspects. Circled, underlined and surrounded by stars.
Emma and Dr. Hotchkins. A woman capable of betraying her husband might not shy away from murder if, say, her doctor lover refused to leave his wife for her.
As Jane’s stomach rumbled, she cast a glance to Beau. He stepped in front of Conrad and crossed his arms. The perfect distraction. She worked her way to the snack table for a quick recharge. A moment to get her thoughts together.
Already she could visualize what had happened the night of the murder. After Dr. Hotchkins and Emma got caught at the clinic—the reason for the uproar among staff—they needed a new location to conduct their affair. Somewhere their spouses wouldn’t think to look. What better spot than a cemetery? Except the husband had been suspicious of his wife’s extracurricular activities for weeks. He followed her and seized the first opportunity to strike, surprising the couple as they desecrated a grave. Hubby Dearest knocked out his wife, killed the doctor and dug up the burial plot, planning to hide the body inside the casket. But something interrupted him.
Or maybe Emma had learned of the doctor’s other women and snapped. Maybe she’d planned the whole thing, with or without her husband’s aid.
Then, she or they started spray painting the fleur-de-lys on everything, hoping to throw people off their trail. A good plan. Get everyone’s mind on gold instead of romance. Or possibly things were reversed, and the romance had been meant to distract from the gold. So many possibilities, all of them one hundred percent valid and without (many) flaws.
Think. What did Jane know about Mr. Anthony Miller? For starters, his face occupied several benches in town. Fiona often touted him as an ambulance chaser. Interviewing him might be tough. A death had occurred, and he had a connection to the victim. As an attorney, he knew better than anyone that his name automatically rose to the top of the suspect list. But for the sake of Jane’s reputation, she had to try.
Beau rushed up behind her, startling her. “Incoming,” he said. “I couldn’t hold him off any longer.”
Jane straightened and twisted with a snap, bringing the last four cucumber finger sandwiches with her. “But I’m not…my food—” A scowling Conrad approached.
She shoveled two of the treats into her mouth, barely chewed, and swallowed, destroying the evidence of her greed. As a mix of foreboding, excitement and heat zipped over her nerve endings, she pasted on a bright smile.
His burning gaze remained fixed on her. “What are you doing here, Jane?”
“Don’t answer that,” Beau advised, maintaining his post behind her.
She frowned at them both before concentrating on the agent. As she and Conrad sized up each other up close and personal, she finished off another sandwich and stayed as cool as, well, a cucumber.
He waited her out, saying nothing.
“Am I committing a crime, officer?” she finally asked.
“It’s detective—” He blinked. “It’s special agent. And you tell me. Are you committing a crime?”
“No?” Was she? Who knew anymore? “I’m performing a public service. In fact, I already have a lead in our case.”
“My case. Mine.” He stepped closer, a slow ease into her space. “You will not follow this lead, Jane. Say it. Let me hear you.”
“But you haven’t even heard my idea yet,” she said, his scent hitting her. Oh, sweet goodness. So freaking good. Her eyelids dipped as heat washed over her.
“I don’t need an explanation. I can guess. You suspect Emma Miller’s husband, and you’re planning to speak to him. But you won’t do it, because I’m telling you not to. You will not visit his office, and you most definitely will not show up on his doorstep. I mean it, Jane.”
“Not bad, Officer Detective Special Agent Conrad Ryan.” She added just enough sneer in her voice to let him know he could take his silent intimidation and shove it. And yeah, sure, also her deepest defenses had been pric
ked. He’d used her name twice in two minutes, a bad sign. Clearly he was beyond irritated with her. The first clue that their breakup loomed. Before their first date!
If ever she fell in love with him? Which she wouldn’t do. Nope. Not her.
“Jane,” he grated.
“All right. Fine. You win, okay? I won’t drop by Mr. Miller’s office or show up on his doorstep.” Truth.
Instead, she would approach him somewhere else. Did Mr. Miller workout at the town’s only gym? Frequent a favorite restaurant? Attend the theater? People bumped into each other all the time. Hardly a big deal.
“Now, if you’ll excuse us…” She backed up a step, bumping into Beau, who rested a hand on her lower back to stop her from falling.
“Jane.” Conrad's annoyance had only sharpened.
“Nope, no need to continue saying what you’re saying. Trust me. I’ve already deduced the highlights. You meant every word. I’ll be in huge trouble if I disobey. And finally, I better go home and stay there or else.” She spread her arms wide and rolled her eyes. “See? I can detective like a boss, too.”
“And if the killer decides to go after you?”
Was this an attempt to scare her? “There’s no stronger motivation to catch the fiend as quickly as possible.”
He pursed his lips and switched his gaze to Beau. “You’ll keep her safe?”
Gold-star solve for Conrad. He suspected her of misleading him, and he was taking measures to ensure her well-being, anyway. Her chest clenched with the realization, but that was okay. Because it meant nothing. Less than nothing, most likely.
“I will,” Beau vowed. “I’ll take a bullet for her if necessary.”
What? “No one is taking a bullet for anyone.” But awww. How sweet. He cared about her well-being, just as she cared about his. Because they were the best of friends.
Look at that. She now had a buddy at her side and a short-term boyfriend on the horizon. Maybe. Possibly. Either way, things were looking up for this Ladling girl.
A silent exchange seemed to transpire between the guys. That, she didn’t like. What were they saying without saying it?
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