by Lucy Quinn
Which was true, Cookie thought. Her mom would be only too happy to chase after Hunter and subject him to her advances. Of course, more than once Cookie had thought about doing the same thing, as recently as yesterday.
So why didn’t she? The way he’d looked at her just now, Cookie suspected her mom was right, that Hunter was waiting to see if she followed him up. And a part of her certainly wanted to. But, just as when he’d been here before, she stopped herself.
Because although Hunter was a great guy, and a great partner, and hot as all hell, Cookie knew that anything that happened between them wouldn’t lead anywhere. It would be fun, sexy and exciting, and then it would be over. And she didn’t want that. She wanted something more.
She thought she might know where to get what she was after. At least, she’d caught a few tantalizing glimpses of it here and there. It wouldn’t be easy, and she might have to do a little groveling first, but she suspected there was still a chance. And that was something she was definitely willing to fight for.
Right now, however, she was dead on her feet. “I’m off to bed,” she said loudly, and turned away from her mother and Winter and now Hayley, all swaying and dancing and giggling, to head upstairs.
Alone.
Which, at the moment, was all she needed.
25
Pounding on her door woke Cookie the next morning.
“Whuzzat?” she asked blearily, lifting her head from her pillow and blinking at the alarm clock on her bedside table. According to its blurry numbers, it was almost nine in the morning.
Far too early to be awakened so rudely, in her opinion.
But Cookie’s opinion had rarely stopped Rain before, and it was her mother who cracked the door open and stuck her head in. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” she called out, far too chipper for someone who had presumably stayed up half the night partying with Hayley Holloway. And had been drinking. And smoking pot. And who knew what else.
Then again, Cookie had been the one involved in taking down two armed blackmailers, so she did have an excuse for sleeping half the day away.
Her mother was unrelenting, however. “Come on, sweetie,” she said, bustling into the room and pulling back the curtains, making Cookie flinch away from the warm sunlight beating down upon her. “Breakfast is already on the table, so you need to get your butt in gear and get on downstairs if you want a bite. Especially if you want a chance to say good-bye.”
“Good-bye? What? To whom?” Cookie demanded, starting to wake up now. But Rain ignored her questions and sashayed out as quickly as she’d entered, leaving Cookie alone to contemplate her choices. Burrow back under the covers and try desperately to go back to sleep? Or concede defeat and get up and find out what the hell her mother was talking about?
Curiosity won out, as it always did. With a groan, she dragged herself to her feet and lurched toward the door. Hopefully Hunter was already downstairs, because if he got a look at her he might think it was the zombie apocalypse and start shooting.
Twenty minutes later, showered and dressed and finally feeling almost human again, Cookie made it downstairs. Rain was humming to herself as she bounced around in the kitchen, but there was a murmur of conversation coming from the dining room, so Cookie headed there instead.
“… some way to thank you,” Hayley was saying as Cookie walked in. The singer looked a lot better than she had the night before—a lot better than Cookie felt, which made her wonder what exactly her mother and Winter had put in those brownies—and seemed to have recovered some of her trademark sparkle.
All of which she was currently aiming at a blushing Hunter, who sat beside her, with her hand resting gently on his muscled forearm.
For just a second, Cookie saw red. Then she shook it off. It wasn’t like she had any claim on Hunter, after all. Not of that sort, anyway. He’d offered, and she’d refused—she could hardly blame him if he played the field after that. Especially when it looked like Hayley was the one making all the moves.
Hunter saw her coming, and straightened up. “Good morning,” he called out, shifting slightly so that his arm pulled free of Hayley’s touch. “I wasn’t sure I’d see you before we left.”
“What, you were going to duck out without even saying good-bye?” Cookie wagged a finger at him as she sank into the seat across from them. “Not a good way to get yourself invited back for the next crime, is it?”
He laughed. “Knowing you, that’s no empty threat,” he said, grinning.
“Good morning, Cookie,” Hayley said, and if the beautiful singer wasn’t flirting with her, she was still smiling warmly. “I was just telling Hunter how much I appreciate everything the two of you have done for me. And for Dickie. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t dealt with those two last night.”
“Our pleasure,” Cookie replied, and meant it. She couldn’t help smiling back at Hayley. “Besides, how many girls get to help their childhood hero?”
Hayley laughed and blushed a little—she even did that prettily. “Well, I’ll be sure to send you an autographed copy of the new album as soon as it’s out,” she promised. “Maybe you and your mom and her friend can put on a little performance of your own with it.”
Just then Rain emerged with a fresh pot of coffee. “Breakfast was excellent, thank you, Rain,” Hayley told her, and Cookie’s mother beamed.
“Thank you, dear,” she said. “That’s sweet of you.” Then she winked. “Make sure to tell all your singer friends about us, hm?”
“I definitely will,” Hayley replied. Cookie believed her, too. She knew enough about the singer’s life to know that Hayley was the type who kept her promises.
Something that had been said was bugging Cookie, though, and it took her a few more seconds—and a long sip of hot, strong coffee—before it registered. “We?” she asked Hunter when she came up for air again. “You said ‘before we left.’”
“Oh, um, yeah,” he answered, getting flustered again. “Well, we were talking and I mentioned that I needed to get back, and—”
“I told him it was silly for him to go to all the trouble of taking ferries, buses, cabs and commercial flights when I could simply give him a ride instead,” Hayley cut in. She snagged a piece of toast off a plate and began daintily coating it with marmalade. “I’m on my way down to Miami but there’s no reason I can’t stop off in Philadelphia along the way.”
“Hayley has a private jet,” Hunter explained, not meeting Cookie’s eyes. “And apparently there’s a space out by the artist colony that makes a perfect runway for a plane its size. She already called her pilot and told him to come and get her at noon.”
“That’s great,” Cookie said. “It’ll save you a ton of time getting back, and you’ll get to travel in style. Thank you,” she added to Hayley.
“Of course.” The singer smiled, showing her dimples, and, having set down the knife, her hand crept over to pat Hunter’s arm again. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Again, Cookie had the urge to snap and snarl, but repressed it. Down girl, she reminded herself. You don’t get to turn him down and still lay claim to him. If he wanted to have a fling with a famous, successful, talented, beautiful superstar, who was she to stop him?
She turned her attention back to her coffee and contemplated breakfast, but was interrupted when a knock sounded on the screen door.
“Come on in!” Rain shouted from the kitchen, and a second later, the thud of boots on the wood floor preceded the appearance of the other tall, handsome man in Cookie’s life.
“Morning,” Dylan said as he came into the dining room. His eyes went first to Cookie, then to Hayley, and finally to Hunter, not missing the hand on his arm. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Not at all.” This time it was Hayley who pulled away, rising to her feet to approach Dylan. “I’m glad you could come over. I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in for a long, slow kiss.
This
time Cookie really did see red, a wash of rage drowning out all other thought and sound. Oh, no, sister, she declared in her head, you do not get to take both of them! That so isn’t happening!
She was already rising from her chair, ready to come around the table and yank the singer off Dylan by her pretty blond hair if necessary, when the messages from her eyes finally pierced the fog that had settled over her brain.
Hayley was kissing Dylan, yes.
But Dylan, it seemed, was not kissing her back.
Oh, he had his arms around her, sure. But now that Cookie studied the situation more closely, it looked like a simple hug. The kind you would give a close friend. Or a family member.
He wasn’t pushing her away, but he wasn’t kissing her. He was simply letting her kiss him. And after a second, Hayley stopped that of her own accord, pulling back slightly to study him. Though she couldn’t see the singer’s face fully, Cookie thought the other woman seemed a little confused. And maybe even a trifle hurt.
“It was great seeing you, Hayley,” Dylan told her, and the obvious affection in his tone smoothed away her pout. “You know you’re always welcome out here, any time you want to get away from it all.” He released her from his embrace, only to take her hands in his. “And any time you need me, just call.”
“Thank you, Dylan,” she told him softly, clutching his hands briefly before letting go. “That means a lot to me.” Then she glanced over at Hunter, and actually fluttered her eyelashes. “Shall we?”
“We should,” Hunter agreed, rising to his feet. His bag was already packed and sitting by the doorway to the hall, Cookie realized, and he stepped over to hoist it onto his shoulder, digging in one pocket as he did. “Hey, Charlie, do me a favor?” he called out, turning back toward her.
“What’s that?” she asked, stepping around the table now that she’d calmed down and wasn’t about to attack anyone.
“I’m going to drive us over to the plane, but could you bring the car back to the rental place? It’s in Hancock—I’ll leave the keys in the ignition, and there’s a map in the glove compartment.”
For a second Cookie considered saying no, he should have thought about returning the car before agreeing to fly home with some pop star in her private jet. But that would have been petty of her. And uncalled-for. She owed Hunter more than that.
Besides, it was a sweet ride. This way she’d get to drive it, even if only to the ferry and then a few blocks over.
So instead she said, “Sure, no problem.” Then she smirked at him. “But don’t think you’re getting out of here without a proper good-bye.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He scooped her up into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?” he asked as he squeezed her in a warm embrace. “Let me know how you’re doing. And if you need anything. Or if there’s any more trouble out here. Or if Mr. Ratchet over there gets too handy. Or—”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cookie said, laughing as she hugged him back. “I got it.” She pulled away so she could look her ex-partner in the eye. “Thanks, Hunter. I mean it.”
He shrugged and hit her with one of those soft, sweet, shy smiles he rarely revealed. “Any time.”
Cookie turned to Hayley, who was waiting, arms open wide. “Thank you so much,” the singer whispered in her ear as they hugged. “Really.”
“It was so amazing meeting you,” Cookie replied. “And I’m glad we could help.” She grinned as they pulled apart. “Me and Hayley Holloway. My teen self is squeeing right now.”
Hayley laughed and pulled out her phone. “Well, this should put her over the top, then.” She quickly leaned in to snap a selfie of the two of them together. “I’ll get your number from Hunter and text that to you,” she promised as she gathered her suitcases—and just as quickly passed them off to Hunter, who seemed only too happy to carry them for her.
Then the two of them, the singer and the FBI agent, headed for the door.
The screen door banged shut behind them, and Cookie glanced over at Dylan. “Hey,” she said softly. The whirlwind departure had left her a little dazed.
“Hey, yourself.” He grinned a little, which sent all kinds of warm thoughts and feelings running through her but did nothing to clear her head. “So, I hear I missed some excitement last night.” The grin widened. “And that at least one part of it might’ve involved my boat.”
“Um, yeah.” Cookie bit her lip. “Sorry about that. It was an emergency. There wasn’t time to call you, but I shouldn’t have just—”
“It’s okay,” he interrupted, and she could see he meant it. “You probably saved Hayley’s life, and definitely both her money and her reputation. I think I can forgive a little boatnapping for that.”
“Oh? Good. Great. Thanks.” Cookie shook her head, trying to snap out of it. But Dylan’s smile and his eyes were too distracting. “So…” She smiled. “I’ve got to head over to Hancock later, drop off a car. Ever taken a ride in a Mustang?”
“I have, actually,” he told her, and she remembered him stuffed in the back seat of Hunter’s rental just a few weeks ago as they’d worked a different case, “but I’d be happy to take another. Especially if it’s with the right person.”
“Yeah?” She brushed her hair back out of her face. “Great.”
He nodded. “In the meantime,” he looked past her, toward the window, “it’s a gorgeous day out. Supposed to be nice and smooth on the water, too. Perfect day for a boat ride. And I seem to recall we’ve still got a picnic to finish…?”
Cookie smiled back at him. “We do, don’t we?” she agreed happily. “And maybe you could give me some more tips on how to drive a motorboat, while we’re at it? Because I kind of enjoyed it last night.”
“You did?” he smirked, doing dangerous things to her insides. “I think that could be arranged. We’d have to discuss my fee for lessons, though.”
The way his gaze lingered on her lips, Cookie had the feeling it would be a price she’d be more than happy to pay.
***
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About the Author
Lucy Quinn is the brainchild of New York Times bestselling author Deanna Chase and USA Today bestselling author Violet Vaughn. Having met over a decade ago in a lampwork bead forum, the pair were first what they like to call “show wives” as they traveled the country together, selling their handmade glass beads. So when they both started writing fiction, it seemed only natural for the two friends to pair up with their hilarious, laugh-out-loud, cozy mysteries. At least they think so. Now they travel the country, meeting up in various cities to plan each new Lucy Quinn book while giggling madly at themselves and the ridiculous situations they force on their characters. They very much hope you enjoy them as much as they do.
Deanna Chase, is a native Californian, transplanted to the slower paced lifestyle of southeastern Louisiana. When she isn’t writing, she is often goofing off with her husband in New Orleans, playing with her two shih tzu dogs, or making glass beads.
Violet Vaughn lives in coastal New Hampshire where she spends most mornings in the woods with her dogs, summer at the ocean, and winters skiing in the mountains of Maine.
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www.lucyquinnauthor.com
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