“Jordy, can I ask how things are going with Camila?” For the last few weeks they’ve been seeing one another off and on. I know for a fact Camila isn’t all in with Jordy because she’s still scheming to sink her claws into Jasper.
Jordy takes a breath as he settles the box of Christmas decorations against the counter for a moment. “She’s a tough nut to crack.”
“Try harder.” I just might gift him a jackhammer as an early Christmas gift to aid in the effort.
“What?” He belts out a quick laugh. “I’m doing my best, Bizzy. Some girls aren’t interested in being tied down.”
“You weren’t interested in being tied down five minutes ago. Maybe you’re sending her the wrong signal? When was the last time you went out?”
“I don’t know, five, six days ago? We had dinner at the pier.”
“Dinner at the pier?” It comes out in a huff, filled with disappointment without meaning to. “Jordy, you have to step up your game. I’m talking romantic things that will knock her socks off like holding hands while ice skating.” I think better of it for a second. A dragon like Camila most likely eats hands—she doesn’t want to hold them. “Actually, you might want to buy her a very pricy handbag from the mall. A girl like Camila looks as if she’s got very expensive taste. I bet the way to her heart is to spend a lot of money.”
Jordy grunts as if his wallet were just mortally wounded. Okay, so he doesn’t make that much working as a groundskeeper here at the inn, but it’s a decent living and he’s able to pay all of his bills. Although, if he could pull off a Camila-based miracle, I might just give him a raise.
“Maybe whisk her off to Bear Mountain for a ski trip?” I’m quick to suggest getting her as far away from Cider Cove as possible. “You love to ski. Or take her out with a thermos full of hot cocoa and build snowmen together? In Antarctica.”
Someone clears their throat from behind and I turn to find a scorching hot homicide detective looking lean and mean with a crooked smile gliding up his face and my cheeks turn red as a Christmas ornament. Hopefully, he didn’t hear the part about Antarctica—or in the least who I’m hoping to send there.
“Giving dating tips, I see.” Those crystal gray eyes of his seem to hold a smile all their own before that grin of his melts away. I wonder why Bizzy feels the need to give Jordy ideas on where to take Camila? Unless… He closes his eyes a moment. Camila’s gotten to Bizzy. I know Camila is still interested in me. But that’s not happening. And the last thing I want is for Bizzy to feel insecure.
An audible groan comes from me. The last thing I want is for Jasper to think I’m insecure. Which I’m not. Not all that much anyway. Besides, the wicked witch is all but set to out me and my oddball abilities. I have to be proactive. Antarctica or bust.
“Jordy was asking for suggestions.” I shrug over at Jasper while Jordy puts in a mild protest as he heads up the stairs. “I even suggested a double date.” My entire body heats with the lie. “I mean, it’s not like I’m insecure.” I offer him a sharp look for even thinking it.
“Double date?” a female voice calls from behind and we turn to find the she-devil herself clad in a red tight-fitted dress. Camila looks as if she just stepped off of a vindictive runway. And by her side is my father’s wicked bride-to-be looking every bit as sharp with her dark hair swept up into a chignon, wrapped in a black and white wool houndstooth coat. “Why, I’d love to.” Camila doesn’t miss a beat. “Jordy and I are free every night this week. We’ll leave the ball in your court. Just tell us when and where and we’ll be there with sleigh bells on.”
Jasper takes a breath. Great. I’m positive that neither Bizzy nor I want this. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Bizzy does. And who knows? It might be good for Camila to see me with the woman who’s stolen my heart.
I can’t help but smile up at him. “We’ll get back to you, Camila.” Like never. “What can I help you ladies with?” An eviction springs to mind. Although, I suppose since Gwyneth will be my new stepmother, I should have a change of heart with her sooner than later.
Gwyneth peels off her dark leather gloves that adhere to her like a second skin.
She flashes those luminescent eyes my way. “We’ll need to see the ballroom. I need to know how many people we can fit in there. I’m still debating on whether or not to have a small, intimate gathering. If we can’t squeeze in there, I suppose I can rent out the country club.”
A dull laugh rattles in my chest. “Gwyn, the ballroom holds up to four hundred people.”
She shrugs over at Camila. “That’s far smaller and far more intimate than I imagined, but for the sake of saying we did it, let’s head on over.”
My mouth falls open. “Grady is in there now helping Nessa with decorations. I’m sure they won’t have any problem with the two of you looking around.”
Both Grady and Nessa help out with the front desk. They’re my right hand when I’m not here. They both graduated from college last year and keep insisting their time at the inn is just a stepping stone, but I don’t know what I would do if they up and left. Fish and Sherlock can only do so much. Although they do make fabulous greeters.
Camila and Gwyneth take off just as Jasper’s phone rings.
He frowns down at the screen. “I’d better take this. I’ll be right back.” He wanders off down the hall just as my sister Macy and my best friend Emmie stroll up with a giant platter of the Country Cottage Café’s latest great treat.
“Gingerbread whoopie pies?” Emmie lands the tray on the counter and I quickly snap up the round treat dusted with powdered sugar. Without hesitating, I shove as much as I can into my mouth and moan my way through it.
Emmie—Elizabeth—Crosby and I have been best friends since preschool. We share the same dark, wavy hair and icy blue eyes, and have been mistaken for sisters most of our lives. Since both of our formal first names are Elizabeth, we’ve both stuck to the nicknames our families gifted us.
“Oh, Emmie.” I quickly indulge in another bite before continuing. Emmie runs the Country Cottage Café located in the back of the inn. It overlooks the white sandy cove that sits right in front of the expansive Atlantic. And even this time of year it’s a treat to sit on the glass-covered porch out back.
Emmie has always had a knack for baking sweet treats, and I’ve always had a knack for burning them. Not that I’ve ever let that necrotic little detail detour me from the effort. Emmie and I came up with the idea to make the gingerbread whoopie pies together. And in typical Emmie style, she executed them perfectly.
Macy grunts as she picks up the smaller kitten of the two. “I think what my sister is trying to say is these whoopie pies are to die for. But coming from Bizzy, that’s essentially a death threat. I’d get a restraining order if I were you.” She gurgles a dark laugh.
Macy is one year older than me, far more hardened by life, and runs off strong coffee and a steady diet of sarcasm. She’s dyed her black hair blonde and has spent the last few months entertaining Jamison and Dalton Wilder, two of Jasper’s brothers, with her body. It’s not a fact I’m proud of. And oddly, she is.
Emmie leans in. “Guess what, Biz? Macy’s finally set me up with Jamison.”
A shudder runs through me. “Don’t do it. Don’t take any of Macy’s castoffs. They’ve been defiled.” It’s true. But besides that bawdy fact, I don’t want Jamison thinking that Emmie is just as easy as my sister, even if it’s not all that big of a stretch.
Both Emmie and Macy seem to have a propensity to run through men, which I don’t usually mind, but Jasper is involved, thus involving by proxy the delicate state of our rather new relationship.
Emmie makes a face as she picks up the taller kitten. “I like Macy’s castoffs. She warms them up nicely for me. Besides, Jamison and I are going to the Seaview pier. He said there’s a bar with a great happy hour.”
“Happy hour?” I balk. “Come on, Emmie. Make him work a little harder than that.”
“What’s wrong with happy hour?” Emmie brush
es a kiss against the tiny kitten’s ear. “Macy says she hits up happy hour on just about every date.”
“First of all, Macy is clinically insane.” I wrinkle my nose over at my sister. “Sorry,” I say as I take another quick bite from my gingerbread whoopie pie and Macy waves me off as if it were no big deal. The truth often isn’t. “And second, I don’t want to see my best friend following my sister into a life of depravity. Macy is destined to live the rest of her life alone with a house full of cats.”
“True.” Macy snaps up a gingerbread whoopie pie and holds it out to me. “But only because I hate people.” She stops shy of taking a bite. “Wait a minute… Aren’t you the one who lives alone with a house full of cats? I’ll take this one off your hands, by the way.” She nuzzles her nose to the tiny cat’s snout. “Yes, I will, you little cutie patootie.”
“Sorry,” I say. “But I can’t break up the set.”
Emmie squishes the cat she’s holding up against her cheek. “What are their names, anyway?”
“They don’t have names yet.” I reach over to give the one Emmie is holding a quick scratch on the back. “But we should name them quickly. Jasper and I are about to take our entire menagerie to the v-e-t to get f-i-x-e-d.”
Macy rolls her eyes. “I’m pretty sure they can’t understand you, Bizzy.” She looks down at Sherlock Bones. “Hear that, big guy? The next time you walk into this place you’ll be a soprano.”
Sherlock gives a lazy blink my way. Do sopranos get more bacon?
I nod over to him. “Don’t you worry, Sherlock. You’ll have all the bacon you want.”
Macy and Emmie land the kittens back to their bed and take their platter of gingerbread whoopie pies off to the grand room.
Jasper finishes up with his phone call and heads this way.
“The coroner’s report just came in.” A comma-like dimple cinches next to his lips. “You were right. Lincoln Brooks was poisoned.”
“Knew it,” I hiss as I come around the counter and head over to him. “Now what?”
He takes a breath as he glances out the door a moment. “I’d better start questioning the suspects. And there’s one that I might need your help with.”
“You’re letting me help with the case?” A thrill rides through me at the thought.
“No way. There is a very real killer out there, and I want you staying as far away from him or her as possible.”
“Well, who’s the suspect you want my help with?”
He swallows hard as he looks into my eyes. “It’s your mother, Bizzy. It turns out, she’s the one that brought over the eggnog from across the street. And right now, she’s sitting at the top of the suspect list.”
My mother.
At the top of the suspect list.
Just try to keep me out of this investigation, Detective.
I offer him a knowing nod.
It sounds to me, I have a killer to catch.
Chapter Five
Winter in Cider Cove is as frosty as the arctic, and today is no different. Jasper drove us out to the veterinarian’s office this afternoon where both Fish and Sherlock threatened to disown us for allowing those people to cage them up like animals—their words, not mine.
Of course, Jasper and I felt bad, but it’s their big day. Jasper and I decided to have both Fish spayed and Sherlock neutered at the very same time. And while we were visiting with the vet, we had the new kittens looked over and vaccinated. And well, they’re not all that happy with us either at the moment.
I overheard one of them yearning for better days gone by, sleeping in the trunk of Mary Beth’s car. The vet let us know they are British semi-longhaired cats and that they are purrfectly healthy—the vet’s joke, not mine—but cute nonetheless.
But now that we’re through, I convinced Jasper to take us to the Sugar Plum Tree Lot on the edge of town, where rumor has it, the frost is sticking.
“Ooh, it’s so beautiful,” I sing as we hop out of the car and take in the sheet of white on the ground. It looks magical juxtaposed against the miles and miles of evergreens lining the lot, cut and ready to be delivered to a happy home. There are tons of families here, happily picking out a special tree to call their own. Just beyond the parking lot there are bounce houses for the younger sect and a stand that sells both hot cocoa and cookies, which prompts an idea to spring to my mind.
I pull the tiny kittens close to my chest. “Would you look at all of this Christmas magic? I tell you, there is nothing better than the scent of fresh cut pines.”
Not true, mewls the smaller one. That litter box you set up for us smells like heaven. I want to live there, Bizzy.
Ooh, me too, the taller one perks up.
“That was lemon-scented kitty litter.” I twitch my nose at the two of them. “I’m glad you’re easy to please. And I’m really going to have to give you names today.”
“Need some help?” Jasper takes the bigger of the two from me. “What kind of names are you thinking?” He gives the red bow on the back of her collar a little tug. “Festive touch, by the way.”
“Thanks. And I think their names should be equally festive, like Donner and Vixen, or Noelle and Joy. I don’t know… just something along those lines.”
“How about Mistletoe and Holly?”
“Hey! I like that. What do you girls think?” I give the shorter one in my arms a quick bounce. “You can be Mistletoe”—I look to her pink-nosed twin—“and you can be Holly.”
Mistletoe looks up at me. Is that better than Fleabag and Critter?
A groan comes from me. “Mary Beth was positively monstrous to these poor cuties.”
Jasper opens his mouth as if to say something before doing a double take at something over my shoulder. I glance that way to find a man standing by the trailer, talking to a group of women dressed as elves.
It’s Calvin St. James, the same man who spent the better part of last night glaring at Lincoln Brooks.
“Bizzy.” The tone in Jasper’s voice lets me know he’s more than suspicious as to why I’ve dragged him out here. “I recognize that man and I’m guessing you do, too.”
“What?” A tiny smile curls on my lips and I can’t help but steal a moment to flirt with him. “Fine. I knew he’d be here. But only because last night Lincoln’s secretary told me that he and Lincoln own this place together.”
A sly smile glides up his cheek. “You spoke to Lincoln’s secretary last night?”
“Didn’t you?”
His lids hood dangerously low and it sends a spear of heat bisecting across my stomach.
“Okay, I did,” he confesses. “I spoke to a few people who happened to be witnesses—in the event you were right and this turned into a homicide investigation.” He glances briefly over his shoulder. “But I didn’t speak to that guy.”
I land my hands over Jasper’s chest. “Rest assured, Detective. I didn’t ask you here under false pretenses. I really should get a tree for the entry of the inn and a behemoth for the grand room. Do you think it would be too much to get one for the dining room? Oh! And the ballroom. Usually I have Jordy come and pick them up, but I see a bright red sign that says they deliver for free right here in town. It sounds as if I’m in luck.”
Jasper’s brows depress and he looks dashingly puzzled. Is there a thing this man can’t do without looking vexingly sexy?
“So how are we going to do this?” He nods over to the tree lot buzzing with life.
“Oh, I’ll just pick out four or five trees. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. And by the way, I insist we both get one for ourselves. That way we can order takeout and decorate my tree one night and do the same at your place the next.”
The hint of a lazy grin starts to take over as he leans in. “I meant the investigation, but I like where your head is.” He leans in and steals a quick kiss, and a trio of women glance this way and break out in titters. Believe me when I say Jasper Wilder is more than titter worthy. He pulls back and his eyes gloss over as if he were dru
gged. “Have I ever mentioned how easily distracted I am whenever you’re around?”
“I do my best to cast a spell.”
“It’s working.” His rough stubble brushes against my cheek. “How do we talk to Calvin? He knows I’m with the Seaview Sheriff’s Department.”
“Oh, right.” I glance over to where he is and find him behind the register at the moment ringing up a customer. “We’ll just tell him the truth. We’re here to pick up a half a dozen trees. And if he’s a true-blue businessman, he’ll love us to death and will tell us anything we want to hear.”
“Let’s do it.”
We start to head over and crest a banner that reads Welcome to the Sugar Plum Tree Lot, where sugar sweet deals wait for you! No sooner do we step inside the maze of trees in every shape and size—not to mention the flocked trees of every pastel color—than we see an alarmingly familiar sight.
“Bizzy Baker.” Mayor Woods offers a brief smile that stretches across her lips. And behind her pops up her steady Eddie—or steady Leo for that matter.
“Mack. Deputy Granger,” I all but growl out his name. I’m still not thrilled with him for spilling his darkest secret to that beast he stole from Jasper.
Leo tips his head my way. I know you’re angry about Camila and her threats, and you have every right to be, but I promise we’ll work this out.
Jasper stiffens by my side. “Mack. Leo.” There he goes leering at Bizzy again. I am going to have one serious talk with him. “Leo”—he ticks his head to the side—“let’s talk shop.” And about the fact you keep ogling my girlfriend like she’s a juicy steak set in front of you.
Santa Claws Calamity (Country Cottage Mysteries Book 3) Page 4