Bourbon Creme Killer: Book 9 in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

by Summer Prescott

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  BOURBON CREME KILLER

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bourbon Creme

  Killer

  Book Nine in

  The INNcredibly Sweet Series

  By

  Summer Prescott

  Copyright 2016 Summer Prescott Books

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication nor any of the information herein may be quoted from, nor reproduced, in any form, including but not limited to: printing, scanning, photocopying, or any other printed, digital, or audio formats, without prior express written consent of the copyright holder

  **This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons, living or dead, places of business, or situations past or present, is completely unintentional.

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  Also…

  … if you’re looking for more great reads, I am proud to announce that Summer Prescott Books publishes a popular series by new cozy author Patti Benning. Check out my book catalog

  http://summerprescottbooks.com/book-catalog/ for her delicious stories.

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  BOURBON CREME

  KILLER

  Book Nine in The INNcredibly Sweet Series

  CHAPTER ONE

  Melissa Gladstone-Beckett eyed the untouched vegan lemon chiffon cupcake sitting in front of her best friend, flame-haired, gypsy-souled Echo Willis, with a concerned frown.

  “You’re not eating, darlin,” she said softly, her southern accent conspicuous. Missy always seemed to slip back into her Louisiana drawl whenever she was worried about something.

  “I feel icky,” Echo groaned, leaning her head on her hand.

  The forty-something free spirit had very recently found out that she was three months pregnant. Her fiancé was thrilled, but she was terrified. A severe case of morning sickness wasn’t helping matters, so her southern friend was constantly trying to feed her and keep her hydrated.

  “Well, cupcakes probably aren’t what you need anyway,” Missy mused. “Can I make you some soup or pasta or something?”

  Echo turned green at the mere thought of food, and shook her head.

  “I want coffee.”

  “I know you do, sweetie, but the doctor said that you need to cut down…” she began.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Echo waved her off weakly. “I swear that doctor hates me. No coffee, no wine, and I’m supposed to take in more calcium and protein, yuck.”

  Missy chuckled. “Oh come on, it’s not as bad as all that. He didn’t say NO coffee or wine, he just said that you had to closely watch your intake. How about some rice with banana?”

  “If I say yes, will you stop bugging me about food?” her friend gave her a faint grin.

  “For now,” she chuckled, then kissed Echo on the top of the head and went to the kitchen to mash some bananas.

  While Missy was in the kitchen of Cupcakes in Paradise, the cozy little shop that she owned and operated, Echo’s fiancé, Phillip “Kel” Kellerman came in and sat down next to his beloved at their favorite bistro table in the eating area.

  “Hey Kel,” Missy greeted him, setting down Echo’s breakfast in front of her.

  “Good morning, lovely lady. I see that someone has finally succeeded in getting this delicate creature to eat,” he lovingly stroked the back of Echo’s hand.

  “Well, not yet, but I’m trying. How’s life with you?” Missy asked, gathering a mug of coffee and a Bourbon Creme cupcake and setting them down in front of him.

  Kel was a local, world-renowned artist in his early sixties who thought that the sun rose and set in Echo’s eyes and smile. He’d loved her from the moment he’d met her, and now he was delighted at the prospect of marrying her and raising their baby together.

  “Never better. I have a show in Atlanta next week, so I’m hoping that you’ll keep an eye on my bride-to-be while I’m gone,” he announced, taking a huge bite of cupcake.

  “I’m not a toddler, I don’t need a babysitter,” Echo folded her arms crossly.

  “You sound like one at the moment,” Missy grinned. “Now quit pouting and eat your breakfast,” she teased.

  Echo raised an eyebrow then stuck out her tongue, barely suppressing a grin, but she picked up her spoon and began eating the mush in front of her.

  “I don’t know why, it’s just going to come up later anyway,” she muttered, grimacing.

  “Are you going to eat that cupcake then?” her fiancé asked, eyeing the treat and putting his hands up defensively when he saw her glare.

  “Okay, okay, sorry. I just didn’t want it to go to waste.”

  Missy giggled at their antics, her heart warm with love for both of them.

  “So… in light of recent events,” she said casually, referring to the news that Echo was pregnant. “Have you two thought about maybe setting a wedding date?”

  “Well, my dear lady, as you well know, I would marry this beautiful lass at the drop of a hat, but she’s been quite adept at dragging her feet thus far,” Kel gazed at his beloved affectionately over the top of his stylish wire-rimmed glasses.

  Echo put her spoon down and wound her fingers through Kel’s.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” she began, blushing. “I think that we should…”

  Missy and Kel both leaned forward, listening intently.

  “I think we should get married before the baby comes,” she gazed up at her adoring fiancé, touched by the sweet surprise that she saw in his eyes.

  Missy clapped her hands with glee.

  “Oh honey, that’s wonderful,” she practically bounced out of her chair with delight. “We’ve got to start planning. We’ll have the reception at the inn of course,” she said, referring to the beachside bed and breakfast that she owned with her dashing and clever husband, Detective Chas Beckett. The Beach House was right next door to her cupcake shop and was seamlessly run by Maggie, the innkeeper. It would be a perfect locati
on for a wedding reception.

  Echo shook her head and interrupted her friend.

  “No, we don’t need to plan, it’s not going to be that involved. We’ll just go to the courthouse with whoever can be there, and we don’t need a reception. I can’t drink anyway,” she smiled.

  Kel was clearly thunderstruck.

  “If that’s okay with you,” she said softly.

  “My beloved, you have made all of my dreams come true in this moment,” he brought her hand to his lips. “We shall do whatever you think is best, and the sooner the better.”

  Missy blinked at her friend, excited that she’d finally made up her mind about when to get married, but more than a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to throw the reception of the century for her best friend’s wedding.

  Echo grinned at Kel, seeming relieved.

  “Well, Grayson and Sarah are going to be coming down here to get married in two months, and I don’t want to steal any of their thunder, so I’d like for it to happen before then. How about next week? That way Missy and I will have time to shop for new dresses.”

  Grayson Myers, whom Missy and Chas had met while living in LaChance, Louisiana, was like a son to them. When the couple moved to Florida from Louisiana, Missy had given her cupcake shop in LaChance to the talented young man as a present for his graduation from art school. His artistry with cupcakes was legendary, and he’d improved on what Missy had taught him about cupcakes.

  “Next week,” Kel beamed. “Next week this amazing woman will be my bride. Works for me.”

  He glanced over at Missy who nodded enthusiastically, her eyes shining.

  “I’m so happy for you two,” she grinned, her happiness spilling over onto her cheeks as she squeezed their hands across the table.

  “I’m off then,” Kel replied, standing to go and grabbing Echo’s cupcake. “I have to find a tuxedo.”

  “Oh Kel, a tux? To a courthouse wedding?” Echo protested, reaching to snatch the cupcake from him and missing.

  “Indeed, my love. I’m only getting married once, and it certainly won’t be in a suit,” he grinned, holding the cupcake aloft and heading for the door.

  “That means my dress will be expensive,” she taunted.

  “My credit card is at your service, ma’am,” he shot back, stuffing the cupcake in his mouth on his way out the door.

  “That man is just like a teenager,” Missy giggled, watching him go.

  “So it seems,” Echo remarked, gazing after him thoughtfully.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Phillip “Kel” Kellerman walked with an extra bounce in his step these days. In just over a week, he’d finally be marrying the woman of his dreams, who was also going to be the mother of his child. He’d never seriously considered fatherhood, but now the prospect of it filled him with joy. It was a feeling unlike any other he’d ever experienced. A proud, protective male instinct rose up within him every time he saw his glowing fiancée, and he was on top of the world, making sure her every need and want was fulfilled. His work had been inspired and his productivity had gone through the roof. The artist couldn’t wait to take his new bride to Paris for their honeymoon and show her off to all of his friends in the French art scene, as well as spending some quality romantic time together.

  Kel was checking his hair in the hall mirror one last time before heading out to his studio when the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries, and hadn’t made any appointments with clients. Perplexed, he opened the front door and saw a handsome blue-eyed youth, whose floppy blond hair covered one eye. The teenaged boy was lean, almost hungry-looking, and seemed strangely familiar, but Kel couldn’t fathom where he might know him from. Pizza delivery maybe?

  “Hello. What can I do for you, young man?” he asked, itching to get to his studio, but in good spirits.

  “Umm… hi,” the boy’s eyes darted back and forth, and he was clearly nervous as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, causing Kel to look at him even more closely. There was something about those eyes. “Are you… uh… Phil Kellerman?” he asked, blushing furiously.

  Kel chuckled. “No one ever calls me that, dear boy, but yes, I am he. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I… uh… I mean… can I come in and talk to you for a minute?” the lad asked, not quite meeting Kel’s eyes.

  The artist weighed his options. He didn’t typically invite strangers into his home, but clearly the boy was no threat to him, and he figured that the sooner the boy asked for whatever it was that he wanted, the sooner he’d be on his way to the studio, so he opened the door wide and gestured for him to enter.

  “Thanks,” the blue-eyed waif said softly, ducking his head as he went by.

  Kel sunk into his favorite club chair and gestured to the couch. The boy sat obediently, looking very uncomfortable and obviously in awe of his surroundings.

  “You’re an artist,” he observed, wide-eyed.

  “Indeed. Now what is it that brought you to my door, young man?” Kel asked pleasantly.

  “This is a little embarrassing, sir,” he murmured.

  “No worries, this is a judgment-free zone. Out with it,” the artist encouraged.

  “My name is Scott. Scott Hammond,” the youth began, picking at a hangnail rather than looking at Kel.

  The name rang a bell somewhere in the back of the older man’s mind, but again, he couldn’t determine why.

  “Nice to meet you, Scott.”

  “Thank you, sir. So, the reason that I’m here is that… well, my mom is missing, and…” he began.

  “Good heavens,” Kel exclaimed, interrupting. “Have you called the police?” He now figured that the boy must look familiar because he lived nearby.

  “Uh… no. I can’t,” he looked helpless and embarrassed all at once.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I think she might be in danger and I think that it might be worse if I go to the cops… uh, police.”

  “Are you in danger?” Kel leaned forward, frowning.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so, at least, not for now, while I’m here in Florida,” Scott sighed.

  “Where else would you be?” the artist was confused. “Aren’t you from here?”

  “No sir, I’m from Illinois.”

  “Well, you’re a long way from home,” he observed, growing more befuddled by the second. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me what you’re doing here, and what led to you appearing on my doorstep.”

  “Okay,” Scott nodded, taking a breath. Kel got up and got him a glass of water. “Thanks,” he said, drinking deeply. “So, my mom was dating this guy for a while, and things seemed fine, but after her car broke down and she got it fixed, they started arguing a lot. I don’t know what they were arguing about, but she always seemed pretty upset afterwards.”

  “So, you think that her boyfriend might have had something to do with her disappearance?” Kel interrupted.

  “I think it’s possible. I mean, she’d never just stay gone without talking to me about it, or at least calling or texting or something,” Scott shrugged, looking scared.

  Kel chose his next words carefully. “Forgive me if I sound callous, because that’s certainly not my intention, but what does the disappearance of a woman from Illinois have to do with me? How did you even know my name? Are you a budding artist? And how did you get here?”

  Scott took another deep breath and set down his glass.

  “I do enjoy art… a lot. I paint and sculpt and make things out of other people’s trash, but that’s not how I found you,” the color rose in his cheeks again.

  “I was really worried about my mom, so I looked through her desk, I even used my pocketknife to unlock the locked drawers, and I found a box. It was wooden and really pretty. I felt bad because when I jimmied the lock, it broke off a chunk of wood, but I figured she’d understand,” the youth rambled.

  “So anyway, in the box was a bundle of letters and they were all from the same person�
�� you.”

  “Letters?” Kel was baffled.

  “Well, more like personal notes. They didn’t go through the mail or anything,” Scott squirmed a bit.

  “Scott… who is your mother?”

  “Jeanette, Jeanette Hammond,” he said, looking the man squarely in the eye.

  Suddenly Kel couldn’t breathe, and had to take a moment to gather his wits.

  “I haven’t heard that name in…” he began, staring into the distance.

  “About fifteen years?” the youth asked.

  Kel’s eyes went wide and refocused on his visitor. “Do you… are you saying… ?”

  “Yes, sir,” Scott nodded. “I went through the letters and looked at the dates. The last one was dated seven months before my birthday. You’re… my father.”

  “Jeanette was…” Kel paled at the realization that his former girlfriend had known she was pregnant when she had moved away forever.

  He stared at the youth, blinking and now realized why the boy’s eyes looked so familiar… it was like looking into a mirror, and the floppy blond hair looked much like Kel’s had at the same age.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he whispered hoarsely.

  “Well, sir, the way that I see it, we can worry about all of that later. I had enough money to take a bus to Georgia, and I hitchhiked the rest of the way because I need help finding my mom,” Scott replied earnestly, his blush reaching the tips of his ears.

  “How did you find me?” Kel asked, in a daze.

  “I did an internet search and found a name that matched, in the town that was on Mom’s birth certificate. It seemed to be pretty obvious,” the determined youth shrugged.

  Kel nodded, his heart thumping in his chest. “Okay, then.”