TABLE OF CONTENTS
PEPPERMINT MOCHA 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
Peppermint
Mocha
Killer
Book Thirteen 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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PEPPERMINT MOCHA
KILLER
Book Thirteen in The INNcredibly Sweet Series
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
Melissa Gladstone-Beckett ground the fragrant canes of peppermint candy with perhaps a bit more force than was truly necessary, as she prepared the topping for multiple batches of cupcakes that were a time-tested favorite. The owner of Cupcakes in Paradise, a charming little shop in the seaside town of Calgon, Florida, had made her special Peppermint Mocha cupcakes every year since her parents first allowed her to help out in the kitchen of their bakery in LaChance, Louisiana, where she grew up.
The petite forty-something blonde glanced at the clock to see how much time she had left before she could start frosting the delightful little dark chocolate and espresso cakes. Each one had a peppermint cream-cheese center, and would be topped with a luscious dollop of chocolate frosting along with a sprinkle of finely crushed peppermint candy canes. She sold out of them every day during the month of December, and often received bulk orders for them for holiday parties from schools, churches, businesses and families.
Missy was a bit stressed about getting her cupcakes made this morning, because her month was busy and getting busier. Not only was she doing a bustling business at her shop, but she’d committed to supplying cupcakes for the annual City of Calgon Santa Claus Parade downtown, and was sponsoring a parade float for the bed and breakfast inn that she owned with her dashing and clever husband, Detective Chas Beckett. The couple was selling the inn to a dear friend, but had already committed to the parade float, so Missy was determined that it would be the best one in the entire parade. She wasn’t known for exercising a great deal of restraint when it came to anything centered around the holidays, and going all out for the float was something that her friends and family entirely expected out of her, vowing to help as much as they possibly could.
Ding! A timer went off, indicating that the first few batches were cooled enough to be frosted, so Missy quickly finished pulverizing the candy canes in the metal bowl. Turning her attention to the bowl of fluffy chocolate buttercream in front of her, armed with a frosting bag that would make beautiful swirls of chocolatey delight on top of the cupcakes, she began methodically topping the festively wrapped cakes, knowing they’d be gone in a matter of hours after opening.
“I’m here!” Missy heard her very pregnant best friend, Echo Willis, call out from the front of the shop.
She dashed out just in time to see the typically lithe redhead waddling in and easing ever-so-gently into a chair at their favorite bistro table. The two had coffee and cupcakes together a few times a week to catch up with each other’s lives. Often, Echo’s new husband, a world renowned, but local artist, Phillip “Kel” Kellerman, who had been born and raised in Calgon, would join them.
“Darlin, you look like you could just burst,” Missy grinned in sympathy and shook her head, her Louisiana accent prominent. She came over, kissed her friend on the top of her curly mass of red hair, and took a seat for a moment to catch her breath.
“Any day now,” Echo sighed. “And I’m more than ready,” she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, shifting her considerable bulk.
“I bet. I have some cupcakes to frost…are you up for helping out while we chat?” Missy asked hopefully, thinking that giving Echo something to do might help take her mind off being so hugely, miserably pregnant.
“Are there any vegan ones?” her eyes lit up.
“Three batches,” Missy grinned. “I’ll be right back.”
Echo, a former Californian, had been vegan her entire life. Missy had begun making vegan versions of her cupcakes after the two had become friends, when they both lived in Louisiana, and had discovered a huge market for the somewhat healthier alternative cupcakes. Now, it was common practice for her to make both vegan and non-vegan versions of her featured cupcakes. She returned in short order, bearing two large trays of cupcakes, which nearly filled the entire surface of their table, and two bowls of frosting, with bags and tips for each. The two friends filled their bags and went at the cupcakes with a comfortable familiarity.
“Oh!” Echo exclaimed, one hand going to her bulbous belly, the other holding her bag of frosting aloft.
Missy’s eyes widened in concern. “Are you okay? What was it? A kick?”
Echo winced, held her hand to her abdomen for a moment, staring into space, and shook her head. “I think it’s one of those pre-labor contractions. They happen every now and again.”
Missy was frozen in place, staring at her friend until at last Echo relaxed, blowing out a breath.
“Whew, that was a strong one,” she sighed, closing her eyes briefly.
Missy glanced at the clock, wanting to know what time it was so that if another contraction struck, she’d know how far apart they were. “Should we call Kel?”
Echo chuckled. “No, I’ll be fine. My body is just doing what it needs to in order to get ready for the main event. Don’t worry, I won’t be delivering in your shop.”
“I just want to make sure that you have all of the help that you need and that you get to the hospital in time,” Missy worried.
“I think you’re more worried than I am,” she grinned, going back to frosting.
“I think you’re right about that,” Missy murmured, picking up another cupcake.
The bells over the front door jingled merrily, which was entirely appropriate for
the season, and Izzy Gilmore, the famous young horror writer, who had moved to Calgon to escape the hustle and bustle of New York, breezed in.
“Okay, before I change my mind,” she announced, “I’m here to tell you that I will help you with your parade float and will even sit on it and wave and throw candy as needed.”
“That’s wonderful,” Missy got up to give her a hug. “We’re planning on working on it tomorrow, so that Saturday morning we’ll have nothing to do but proceed to the parade route.”
“Perfect. I’ll do some writing this afternoon, so that I’m a bit ahead on my latest book, and I’ll be able to join you for as long as you need me tomorrow.”
Missy and Echo exchanged a look.
“What?” Izzy asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
She was a stickler for details, and a keen observer of human interaction, jokingly calling it an “occupational hazard,” which meant that she missed nothing when it came to matters of intuition.
“Spencer will be helping out, too,” Missy said softly, referring to the handsome young Marine veteran whom she employed at the inn and cupcake shop. He and Izzy had been an item until Izzy pushed him away one too many times. Now the young woman lived with the regret of having let him go.
A flash of pain appeared in Izzy’s eyes before she tightened her jaw and nodded bravely. “I figured that he would be. Calgon is a small town, and I can’t avoid him forever. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to avoid him at all. This will be good for me. I can do this,” she added resolutely, not quite looking as though she believed it.
“You sure?” Echo raised an eyebrow.
“No,” Izzy replied in a small voice. “But I have to try, right?”
“Right,” Missy put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “Do you have time to help frost?” she gestured at the cupcakes, deftly changing the subject.
“Unfortunately, no. If I want to get ahead in my book, I should probably get going, but…” she gazed longingly at the trays of luscious cupcakes on the table.
“Stay right here, I’ll box some up for you,” Missy promised, patting her on the arm.
“Are you sure?” Izzy asked, not wanting to seem too forward.
“Anything for my favorite author. You’ll need your strength for all that writing,” Missy called over her shoulder as she headed behind the counter for a cupcake box.
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
“I’ve never seen so much crepe paper in my entire life,” tall, dark-haired detective, Chas Beckett observed, standing in the open doorway of the inn’s multi-stall garage.
“It does look like Santa’s elves went on a bit of a spree,” Kel, Echo’s husband nodded.
Missy rose from a squatted position near the rear tire of the parade float and put her hands on her hips.
“We don’t need supervisors around here, we need workers. If you two aren’t going to lend a hand, you can just go on your merry way,” she directed, giving the two amused men a pointed look.
“We’re on our way out to pick up the boards for framing out the igloo,” Chas put his hands out in supplication, then went to his feisty wife and gave her a quick kiss. “We’ll be back soon. Spencer said that he’ll be building the rest of the float after we get back. Do you need anything else while we’re out, my little Christmas elf?” he teased, eyes sparkling.
“You’re lucky you’re so darn cute,” Missy grinned as he kissed the tip of her nose. “I think we’ll need three more big packages of hot glue sticks. It’s going to take a ton of crepe paper snowflakes to cover the igloo.”
“Looks like you’re set in that department,” Kel observed, clearing his throat and gazing at the mountain of crepe paper rolls in the corner of the garage.
“I hope so,” she sighed. “You boys run along now, and bring this poor pregnant woman some lunch on the way back,” she glanced over to where Echo was sitting with her feet up on a folding chair, twisting strips of crepe paper into fluffy white snowflakes. Echo responded with a tired smile. Izzy was beside her, adding to her massive bag of “snowflakes,” and had pretended not to react when Chas mentioned Spencer’s name.
“Your wish is our command, dear lady,” Kel saluted, then went over and tenderly kissed his wife, who shooed him away so that she could keep working.
When Chas and Kel came back with the lumber and the glue, as well as bags full of deli food, the ladies took a break and went to the dining room of the inn to eat their lunch, while the guys unloaded the inn’s van and started the framing of the igloo. The float would have a Styrofoam snowman, the igloo, and a throne made of “ice” upon which the Ice Princess, (aka Izzy), would sit, waving and tossing candies to the parade watchers. Missy wanted to win the “Best Float” contest, and thought that something outside the traditional red and green decor would be just the ticket. The float would be a sparkling combination of blues, silver and white, and would bring a bit of winter to the sunny Florida town.
Coming back from a light but delicious lunch of deli sandwiches, salads and sparkling water, the ladies were refreshed and ready to get back to work. The parade was only a day away and there was much to be done. They walked slowly in consideration of Echo’s condition, and could hear the sounds of a table saw and multiple hammers being used as they approached. A brief, pained looked flickered across Izzy’s delicate features, which caused Missy to reach out and squeeze her hand briefly. Spencer was inside the garage, and seeing him would be a test of the young author’s mettle.
Echo, Missy and Izzy caught their collective breath when they saw the outline of their float. The igloo framing was complete, and Chas was stretching canvas over it, stapling it to the wood frame. The igloo would then be covered in spray-on “snow”. Kel was attaching a paper mache carrot to a large Styrofoam ball that would ultimately be the head of their snowman, who would be almost as tall as their Ice Princess, and Spencer was carefully crafting the throne at the back of the float. The entire scene was being built atop an extra-long flatbed, and was certain to be a hit with the kids at the parade. Once all of the spray-on and crepe paper “snow” was firmly in place, there would be iridescent bows and glitter applied liberally, making the entire thing sparkle, with ribbons and bows curling around the throne of the Ice Princess, who would be dressed in a light blue gown covered in sequins and fluffy toile. Izzy would wear a crown and fake eyelashes, and had wondered aloud how she’d allowed Missy and Echo to talk her into such a spectacle.
Izzy avoided looking at Spencer directly, but stole several quick glances at the muscular Marine as he worked. She and Echo kept up their production of crepe paper snowflakes, while Missy hot-glued them onto the skirt of the flatbed, so that it would look like a winter wonderland from top to bottom. The author was so absorbed in her own thoughts, folding and twisting and tossing snowflakes into a giant black yard waste bag, that she had no idea that Spencer was standing in front of her, watching the process with a faint smile. She happened to glance up for a moment and took a sharp inhalation of surprise, her face flushing with color.
“Hi,” she said awkwardly, looking over at Echo for help.
The pregnant woman was suddenly totally fixated on the crepe paper in her hands and didn’t acknowledge the author’s glance.
“Hi Izzy,” Spencer said, his deep, kind voice melting her soul in a most excruciating way. “Do you have a minute?”
“I…well, um…” she stuttered, caught off guard.
“Sure she does. I’ve got this under control,” Echo decided to join in. Izzy shot her a look. “You two go ahead,” she made a shooing motion with her hand. “And please bring me a lemonade when you come back.”
Izzy raised her gaze to where Spencer stood over her, waiting expectantly, and attempted to smile. “Well then…I guess I do have a minute.”
She rose from her folding chair, conscious of the fact that Missy was watching sympathetically from behind the tire of the flatbed, and followed Spencer out of the garage.
“Where are we
going?” she asked, as he headed through the back yard of the inn, toward the beach.
“I thought it’d be nice to sit on the beach for a bit, if that’s okay with you,” he glanced at her over his shoulder, his eyes unreadable.
He’d made it pretty clear to Izzy that he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship with her since she’d turned him away twice, so she couldn’t fathom why he suddenly wanted to sit on the beach with her, but her curiosity got the best of her, so she played along, slipping off her shoes and stepping onto the warm sand. There were two lounge chairs, which belonged to the inn, set up under the shade of a palm tree, and the Marine made a beeline for them, with Izzy close behind. Settling himself on one, he watched her sink into the other.
“I feel like we left things unfinished,” he said gently, without preamble.
Izzy blushed again, unprepared for a serious conversation and caught entirely by surprise. “I don’t know what you mean. You made it pretty clear that we were finished,” she replied, wincing at how bitter her words sounded. “I didn’t mean to sound like that,” she explained hurriedly. “I just meant…”
“It’s okay,” he smiled his understanding. “I get what you mean. I guess I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry. I wish things could be different…I never wanted to hurt your feelings,” Spencer said softly.
“Thanks,” she said, searching his cobalt eyes, then glancing downward quickly as hers filled with tears.
“I really…” he began, seeming uncomfortable. “I just want…” he gazed at the ocean in front of him, not finishing his sentence.
Izzy’s heart leaped with hope. “Yes? What is it? What do you want, Spence?” she asked, breathless, her stomach in knots. Could he possibly want to rekindle their romance?
“Honestly…” he sighed, considering his words carefully. “I have no idea what I want. I know that I value your friendship. We can’t keep pretending that nothing happened and acting like we don’t even know each other. There are going to be too many times that we’re at the same events and running into each other all the time. We need to be able to be comfortable around each other again.”
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