I thought he was being a bit naïve, considering he was a police detective—no doubt there were worse excuses. But he’d said Silver Springs didn’t see many murders. “Thanks for letting me know. I appreciate it.” Strangely, I didn’t feel all that reassured about my safety.
“No problem, ma’am. I’ll let you know when we hear more about the problems you’ve been having.”
That reminded me. “Right. I meant to call you, but today has been rather overfilled with events. I found out who spray painted my window and I’ve taken care of it, so you can close the case.”
His eyes narrowed and grew wary. “You’ve taken care of it? Miss Crawford, you taking care of things is why your window was vandalized in the first place.”
As he wasn’t entirely wrong on that point—no matter how much I wished to deny it—I decided he deserved an explanation. “It was my ex-finance, Bronson. Marge’s gift shop across the street caught him on a surveillance camera. I gave him the option of cleaning it up and going home, or me pressing charges. He chose the former—which was my preference, as it got rid of him. Anyway, it’s over.”
“Good.” He lifted a hand in farewell. “You have a nice day, and I look forward to your store opening.”
“Thanks.” I felt confused when I shut the door behind him. He could be right. Maybe Millie had enough of the high and mighty routine Valerie had been pulling. Maybe she and Valerie got into a fight—but it didn’t feel right to me. I couldn’t decide what to think, so I turned my thoughts back to my date.
I really liked Shawn. He had integrity, he was fun and intelligent, willing to help out and man, was he a good kisser! But I wasn’t ready to become serious in another relationship right now. It wasn’t a problem, I reminded myself. We were having fun, and that was it.
I hurried to get ready, even pulling out an old pair of red boots I’d carried around with me for years—the same pair I’d purchased when I was sixteen. They had been worn many times over the years, though mostly when I came to visit my grandma. I wondered why I hadn’t worn them before now.
As I slid them on, touching the red leather, dusting the contours with my index finger, I remembered the way I’d felt when I bought them. Grandma had taken me to the store for a pair of real boots, she said. I was going to do some horseback riding with a guy I had a major crush on, and she said if I was going to spend much time around horses, I’d need the right footwear.
Though I’d balked at first—they didn’t fit into my idea of fashion—I found them super comfortable. They were so, so much better than the tight and uncomfortable high heels I now wore at every opportunity—though not nearly as cute. Eventually the boots were my favorite footwear, so much that I’d nearly taken them back to New York with me, but I could still hear the taunts I’d imagined from my friends. Being labeled a hick was not on my to-do list at the time, so I’d set them side-by-side on the closet floor and mourned them from New York. It wasn’t until after my apprenticeship in France that I’d finally taken them with me.
Amazingly, after all these years, they still fit well and I slid the legs of my jeans down over them. Good thing we’d popped into a store to pick up some boot-cut jeans, as I’d forgotten to bring my only pair with me when I left Chicago. These were not designer, but I liked the way they fit over my rear end and the slimming look they gave my legs. I wasn’t the skinniest person on the planet, but they made me look good.
I topped the outfit with a soft red shirt that buttoned up the front and a beaded necklace with a big silver amulet at the bottom. It was heavy, so it wouldn’t fly around too much when I danced.
I heard the clomp of boots on the stairs just before the knock on the door. Shawn stood on the other side, a single tulip, no doubt filched from someone’s yard, twisting in his fingers.
He was such a strange mixture of contrasts. His eyes slid down me appreciatively, stopped on the boots and his brow furrowed before he lifted his gaze to my face again. “Those boots are scuffed.”
“Very observant of you. That’s what happens when you wear them,” I answered as I accepted the flower.
“Who did you borrow them from? Honey?”
I turned my back on him and moved to the kitchen for a vase, smiling at his surprise. At the last minute, I detoured to the cupboard and pulled out an old pint jam jar. Somehow it seemed more fitting than my slim crystal bud vase. “Nope, I didn’t borrow them. I’ve owned them for years. I just haven’t had a reason to put them on since I got back.”
Shawn came up behind me, took the jar from my hand and set it on the counter. He turned me to face him. “You’re so different than I expected.” His hand lifted to my face, and his thumb ran along my bottom lip. “You intrigue me.”
My heart rate picked up, despite everything I’d told myself about the non-future of our relationship. I allowed my mouth to slide into a teasing smile. “Good. I wouldn’t want to become predictable.”
His mouth covered mine in a sweet, lingering kiss. I felt goose bumps rise across my arms and a yearning for something more enter my chest. Shawn made me feel good about myself and I loved being with him, wanted more of it. He moved back and took my hand, pulling me toward the door. “Do you need a purse or anything?”
“Nope, I’ve got what I need in my pocket.” My emergency stash included lipstick, cell phone, a twenty dollar bill, my ID and the key to the apartment.
“I thought it was against a woman’s genetic makeup to go around without a purse.”
I followed him down the last of the outside stairs before responding. “If we were going dancing somewhere that required a slinky dress, I’d have a purse. Thankfully, these jeans have pockets.”
He scanned me again as we approached his car. “Though I like the way you look right now, I admit that the thought of you in a slinky dress interests me.”
“Too bad Nogales calls, isn’t it? I have several dresses that would qualify.” Okay, so they were all in my closet in Chicago, but they’d be in Silver Springs soon.
Shawn opened the car door and watched me sit, letting his eyes linger for a long moment. “It sure is a shame.” He shut the door and rounded the front of the car to the driver’s side.
I loved the way he made me feel special and beautiful.
When he’d pulled the car onto the road, he slid me a sidelong glance. “I admit, I think of you as more of a symphony and Broadway musical type of gal than as a cowboy bar woman.”
“No reason I can’t be both,” I pointed out. “Diversity is the joy of life.”
“True.” He squeezed my fingers. “Any info about your vandal? I’ve been poking around, but haven’t turned up anything useful.”
We pulled up to the bar a while later. I’d spent the drive telling him what I’d learned about Bronson and what I did about it.
He parked the truck, then came around to my side to let me out. “I think you might scare me a little,” Shawn said as he took my hand to help me out of the vehicle. Yes, he actually gave me his hand and helped me up—not that I needed assistance, but it was a sweet gesture.
“You don’t act scared.”
“I have a really good brave face. It comes in handy with my job.” He shut the door, locking it with his keychain fob. We headed for the bar, and he didn’t release my hand.
“I see. I’ll remember that I can be scary, and hold that in reserve for when someone earns my wrath.” Of course, Bronson had more than deserved what little I had dished out to him that morning, so I didn’t feel guilty about it.
Shawn led me inside, we ordered food and he pulled me toward the dance floor as a fast song started. “Do you know how to swing dance?” he asked as he led me away from the group line dancing on one side of the floor.
I grinned. “It’s been a while, but if you can be a little patient, I’ll pick it up again.”
The dancing was fun, the chicken strips and fries I ordered were delicious and Shawn kept me dancing until midnight with water breaks in between to stay hydrated. Not only was he a fant
astic swing dancer, but he showed off smooth moves on the slow dances as well.
“Not much of a beer drinker, are you?” he asked as we pulled out of the parking lot at the end of the evening.
“You’re one to talk. You didn’t have one either.”
“I was driving tonight, and I don’t drink much anyway. Do you avoid alcohol on principle, or was this an exception?” His question was light, curious.
“It dulls the senses, and I was having too much fun for that. Besides, I think I need to keep my wits about me where you’re concerned.” It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Shawn, because I had no reason to think he’d take advantage, but keeping a clear head had definite benefits. Since I’d recently learned I wasn’t nearly as good a judge of character as I’d thought, a clear head was a good thing. I had long-ago vowed to stay away from the stuff—my family history of alcoholism went back many generations.
“You may be right there.” His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, his face a study in thought. “The thing is, I like you, and I enjoy spending time with you. Nogales isn’t exactly next door.”
“I know. And I’m going to be honest—while I’ve had a great time with you, I’ve only been unengaged for two weeks and I’m not ready for a new relationship.” I studied his profile for a moment. He was so gorgeous. And strong. And sweet. “If I were looking for a rebound relationship, though, you’d be my first choice.”
His smile broadened. “What, no declaring your undying devotion? I’m only good enough for a rebound guy? I’m hurt.”
“No, you’re not.” And though I would miss him, I found I wasn’t upset that he wouldn’t be nearby, that it could be months before I saw him again. There would be lingering pain over Bronson’s betrayals, but I thought I could live with them, too. “And I’ll admit, flirting with you has made this whole thing with Bronson easier, so thanks.”
Shawn parked the car behind my building. “He didn’t deserve you.”
“I’m starting to think you’re right.” And eventually I’d be able to say that without a little ache in my chest. I decided that was more than enough seriousness. “Do you make it back here often?”
“Not as often as I’d like. But if you agree to see me again some time, I think I might find a way to work it into my schedule.” His eyes lingered on mine, making me warm inside.
“In that case, I’ll expect to see you knocking on my door, or better yet, coming in for a cupcake or something, before the summer’s over.” I’d miss him, and definitely looked forward to seeing him again down the road—when my brain had calmed and the business was established.
He came around to open the door for me, offering me his assistance to stand. “How soon do you think you’ll be able to open?”
“Before Easter, with any luck. I’ve got equipment and supplies coming in from all over, and I have another wedding cake scheduled.” The thought filled me with glee, even if it would be simple by my usual standards. There was nothing wrong with simple, and the most minimal cakes had their own built-in trials.
“Already? I have the feeling you’ll hit it big here.”
We reached the top of the stairs and I unlocked the door, but didn’t open it, then turned to face him. “Travel safe.” I couldn’t help lifting my hand to run my fingertips over his cheek. His face was still smooth from his evening shave.
He caught my hand and held it there. “I will. You take care of yourself. It’s become a dangerous world since you stepped into Silver Springs.” He tipped his head to brush his lips against my palm, though he didn’t take his eyes off mine.
I felt that little shiver of anticipation that usually precedes a first kiss. Strange, considering he’d already kissed me several times. “It seems like that, doesn’t it? And I always thought of Silver Springs as such a safe haven.”
Shawn stopped my words by pressing his lips to mine. There was no bitter sweetness, no promises of see you later, but it wasn’t exactly goodbye, either. When he lifted his mouth, I knew I would see him again, and I looked forward to it.
I reached for the door handle behind me, twisted it and stepped back into my apartment. “See you.”
His eyes were still on mine. “See you.”
I turned to face my apartment and sucked in a breath of surprise. “Holy crap.” Chaos. Pictures were off the walls, the knickknacks off the tables and shelves, several were broken and my grandma’s CD collection was scattered across the floor.
Shawn only took one retreating step before he paused. “What?” He saw the mess in the apartment, swore and pushed past me.
I didn’t know what to say, but though I may still have been in shock, Shawn didn’t seem hampered by the same problem. He whipped out his cell phone and called the police. For the third time that week, they responded to my house.
“This is getting to be a habit,” Detective Tingey said when he arrived at my front door.
“It’s not my habit,” I assured him. “It’s something about this town.”
“You say that, but you’re the only one having continuous problems.” He wrote in his notebook, then looked back at me, his expression apologetic. “I thought this would stop when we arrested Millie.”
“Me too. Kinda makes me wonder if maybe she’s only guilty of stealing the necklace,” I said. He had to be thinking it too.
He nodded, though he didn’t appear to like what I’d said. “Yes. Other than the window, these incidents and the murder all appear to be connected.”
“Yes, they do.” At least, I hoped they were connected. The thought of two more people out to get me was too much to deal with at the moment. Of course, we’d thought the window vandalism was connected too, at first.
“And do I take it from the fact that your apartment is trashed that you haven’t backed down?” His expression was bland and it was clear he already knew the answer, but waited to hear it from me.
I fought not to squirm. “I suppose you can.”
“Have you learned anything else I should know?” Detective Tingey tapped his pen on the top of the notebook.
I considered telling him about Dahlia’s true paternity, but it was still speculation, though it would explain a lot. I decided it wasn’t relevant, and shook my head. When I had real answers for him, I’d tell him.
His brows lifted in doubt. “I don’t know that I believe you.” He sighed. “Tell me what happened here.”
I told him, Shawn told him, they took pictures and I sorted through things. As far as I could tell, nothing had been stolen, but Detective Tingey said to make a list of the damaged or missing items.
Shawn stayed to help me put things mostly to rights in the living room and kitchen—I didn’t let him into my bedroom. “You gonna be okay here?” he asked when he stood at the door to leave again. “I could bunk on the couch, if you’re worried.”
The couch would be insanely uncomfortable for someone his size, so the image made me smile despite the situation. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for sticking around.”
“No problem. Take care of yourself, and use your deadbolt, will you?”
“Yes,” I promised, feeling my face heat with embarrassment and consternation.
He bent his head and brushed his lips over mine in farewell, then left with a wave.
When I had double-checked the locks, I picked up my cell phone and dialed a Chicago number. Despite the ridiculously late hour there, I knew Lenny was a night owl, so he should be up. “Hey, Lenny, it’s Tess. I have a favor to ask,” I greeted him after he answered his phone. I pulled the tiny note from my pocket. “I have a cell phone number and need you to see if you can find out the calls from last Friday.” When he said he was ready, I rattled it off.
“Twice in one week. What’s this all about? You’re not trying to get me in trouble, are you?” he asked.
“No way. I just need your mad computer skills. This is for the murder again. I wondered who she talked to last.” I dug into my cupboard, way too upset to go to bed after the break-in. Maybe a soothing cup o
f chamomile tea? The bags were left over from my grandmother, but I decided not to worry about how old they were—I needed something, and it was far too late for a cup of coffee if I was going to sleep before three.
“What’s it to you? She a friend of yours?” His thick Bronx accent made me feel like I was home.
“No, it’s complicated.” After I filled the teapot and put it on to heat, I lined flour, eggs, sugar and butter on the counter, then double-checked to make sure I still had whipping cream and cream cheese in the fridge. I was set.
“Maybe it’s better if I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll check into this after I catch a few Zs. I’ll call you tomorrow with results, if that’s okay?”
“Perfect. You’re the best.” I put the butter and water in a saucepan to heat.
“Yeah, yeah. You say that, but it’s DeMille’s ring you accepted. I see how it works.” He was such a shameless flirt.
I tried to keep my voice light as I measured out my flour and set it aside. “There’s no risk that I’ll be wearing it ever again.” Not after everything the creep pulled.
The sound of the elevated train clattered in the background. “I thought he was romancing you this week to bring you back here.”
I started cracking eggs into a bowl. “He tried. I can’t do it, though. It was time I realized what a jerk he is.” I whipped the eggs with fury. Some piece of my subconscious must have known all along—he’d been cajoling me into the engagement for months before I accepted.
“Way past time. Your business out there is gonna do awesome. Everyone will love your desserts. Oh, Kat’s calling through. I’ll get back to you tomorrow with that info.”
I thought of the tattooed, pierced and bleached-hair Lenny with sweet, mousy little Kat. They were an odd couple. “Thanks, Lenny. I owe you one.”
It came in handy sometimes, having friends with certain skill sets. Whomever Valerie called, they were likely responsible for her death, or at the very least, the last person to talk to her.
I’d had enough of this game and wanted some answers. I knew there was no way Detective Tingey would share with me.
Brownies & Betrayal (Sweet Bites Mysteries, Book 1) Page 18