After breakfast, Special Agent Morgan had made himself scarce so Dave and I could say goodbye to my parents in private. It had been a more hopeful, less tearful parting than I’d expected. Mom and Dad were eager to resolve their legal troubles, and they trusted Colin to treat them fairly.
Because of the giant pile of state and federal criminal charges that Herk the Jerk was facing, my parents were going to be important witnesses for the prosecution in multiple cases. Special Agent Morgan assured us their cooperation wouldn’t go unrewarded.
So, when the government-issued car pulled out from the long circular driveway, my heart was surprisingly light. Dave wrapped his arm around my waist. The morning sun warmed my bare shoulders. A rose-breasted grosbeak perched in the tree near the porch sang, and the wind carried its song, rich and sweet and melodious, on the air.
We watched the car disappear from view. After a moment, Dave turned to me and grinned.
“So, I suppose the honeymoon starts now, Mrs. Drummond. What would my wife like to do today?”
I rested my head on his shoulder. “I’d love to go down to the beach and watch the tide roll in with my husband.”
“That can be arranged,” he said, catching my earlobe playfully between his teeth. “Any other requests?”
I pressed my palms against his chest and stretched up to kiss him then teasingly said, “Oh, I have lots of requests, Mr. Drummond. But there’s no hurry. We have the place to ourselves until Wednesday.”
A slow smile spread across his face and he pulled me tight. “Two whole days with no crimes to solve, no events to cater, and no dog to walk. I don’t know how we’ll pass the time.”
I put on a serious face and said, “My husband’s inordinately clever and creative. I’m sure he’ll think of something.”
Then I dissolved into giggles and took off running toward the beach. Dave caught up with me halfway there and swooped me into his arms to carry me the rest of the way.
Much, much later, when the afternoon sun was high in the sky, we returned to our room to remove sand from body parts that had no business being sandy. We were soaking in the oversized clawfoot tub and listening to the waves crash down on the shore, when my cell phone rang.
I reached for it on the vanity.
“Ignore it,” he urged, as he gently pulled me back into the water.
I hesitated for a half-second before sinking back into the foamy bubbles with a satisfied smile. I rested my head on his broad chest and leaned against him.
We stayed in the tub until we realized we hadn’t eaten since breakfast. By the time we got out, the water had turned cold and the bubbles were just a sudsy memory. I could almost hear the bed calling my name.
After I wrapped myself in a thick robe, I remembered my missed call. I listened to my voicemail message once, then a second time. Then I sprawled on the bed next to Dave, who looked as though he was also contemplating taking an early evening nap.
“Who called?” he asked.
“A potential client. She’s looking for someone to cater a destination wedding.”
“I thought you were never catering another wedding again,” he teased. “Isn’t that what you said after the Steinbrenner-Moskowitz shindig?”
“I did say that,” I agreed. “But this bride has very specifically requested my honeysuckle lemon cake with lavender cream for her wedding reception.”
He turned on to his side and gave me a surprised look. “Would you really make our cake for someone else? Can’t you suggest different flavors?”
I felt my mouth curve into a smile.
“I could. But it sounded as if Sage and Roman already have their minds made up.”
Thank You!
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Acknowledgments
As always, I’m grateful to my editing team for putting the polish on my work. I’m also wildly lucky to have a husband and children who support my writing, especially around deadline time!
About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Melissa F. Miller was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Although life and love led her to Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, D.C., and, ultimately, South Central Pennsylvania, she secretly still considers Pittsburgh home.
In college, she majored in English literature with concentrations in creative writing poetry and medieval literature and was STUNNED, upon graduation, to learn that there’s not exactly a job market for such a degree. After working as an editor for several years, she returned to school to earn a law degree. She was that annoying girl who loved class and always raised her hand. She practiced law for fifteen years, including a stint as a clerk for a federal judge, nearly a decade as an attorney at major international law firms, and several years running a two-person law firm with her lawyer husband.
Now, powered by coffee, she writes legal thrillers and homeschools her three children. When she’s not writing, and sometimes when she is, Melissa travels around the country in an RV with her husband, her kids, and her cat.
Connect with me:
www.melissafmiller.com
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