Murder in the Mix (Books 1-3)

by Moore, Addison

  Oh my God.

  I bolt upright as if I had just been shot. She’s not making out with him, is she?

  Mom gives me a slight kick from under the table. “So Lottie, why don’t you tell us all how it feels to finally run the bakery of your dreams? You’ve been waiting for this moment all your life.” She offers a crimson-lipped smiled to both Noah and Wallace. “My daughter has been obsessed with baking ever since she got her hands on an Easy Bake Oven when she was three. Of course, all the girls used it.” She grimaces at the memory. “Meg would toss a little mud in for flavor. But not my Lottie. She only uses the finest ingredients.”

  She winks my way, and I can feel my face heating. I’ve never done well with compliments in general. Truth be told, there’s nothing more that makes me want to duck under this table and bury my face in my purse. It’s been a long-standing problem of mine. My therapist, back in New York, suggested it was a byproduct of the fact I far more prefer rejection. She claimed that I don’t actually believe the generous statements offered my way, that, in fact, I infer it to be mocking and satirical. My God, she is so right on the money. But this is my mother, and I know for a fact she would upsell me to a tree if she had to. So I take my therapist’s sage advice on how to handle any kind words slung my way and say a simple thank you.

  “Speaking of the bakery”—I start in on a perfect segue to Hunter and his financial woes—“I still haven’t quite gotten over the trauma of having a homicide occur on day one.”

  The waitress comes with our dishes, and I grunt at the fact she’s just ruined my momentum. Wallace isn’t even looking at me right now. He’s practically salivating over the chicken Parmesan they’ve set in front of him. I can’t help but twitch my nose at the sight. My father once said never trust a man who orders chicken when there is steak on the menu. Noah moans approvingly as his steak Toscano is set before him, and I brush my shoulder to his, proud to have him by my side. Both my mother and I opted for the lighter fare, angel hair with Alfredo and shrimp.

  Noah looks tenderly at me, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear we were having a moment. “I’m sorry you had such a dark event the night of the grand opening.” His dimples press in, and I’m openly swooning at the king by my side. Why are my mother and her prickly pear here again? Oh, right.

  “Yes.” I take a deep breath, looking to Wallace. “It was quite a trauma. Did you know him very well?” I ask at the precise moment he indulges in a mouthful of chicken. He didn’t even wait for my mother to place her napkin on her lap. I’m guessing his table etiquette is indicative of every other aspect of his life. He will always come first. And anyone who won’t put my mother first is last in my book. She might as well give him his walking papers tonight, because judging by the way he’s plowing through his meal—

  Noah leans over, his mouth set directly over my ear, and my insides melt like butter on a griddle. “You’re glaring.”

  I look up at him wild-eyed before bouncing in my seat and composing myself once again. “Your food looks wonderful, Wallace.” Take two. “I came this close to ordering the chicken myself.” Lies, all lies.

  “Mmm.” He lifts his fork as he swallows down a mouthful.

  “Did you know Hunter Fisher?” I look right into his eyes, and my mother gasps, waving her hand at me as if she were gunning to swat me.

  “Lottie Kenzie Lemon. You do not speak of the deceased while others are trying to enjoy their meal. It’s bad enough you brought it up at dinner.” She shudders, her narrowed beams of disapproval still set my way. “Noah, I promise you that I brought her up better than that. Lottie is always so rife with sparkling conversation. I don’t know what’s happened to her tonight.”

  Noah’s chest bounces with a quiet laugh. “It’s quite all right. I’ve already been treated to Lottie’s sparkling conversation. And I rather enjoy her natural curiosity.” He tilts his head while giving me the side eye, and I’m betting he’s onto me. Crap. This was going to be my great find. My very own sparkly new suspect.

  Noah reverts his gaze to Wallace. “So answer the question,” he spits it out with a friendly grin. “Did you know Hunter Fisher?”

  Wallace gives an eager nod while washing down his food.

  Figures. I pry and nothing happens. Noah asserts his male prowess, and suddenly Wallace is so eager to speak he’s practically choking on his food.

  “I tried to work with the kid.” His eyes flit to the depths of the room, and something about that ocular move raises my suspicions. He’s thinking about something, and I want to know what. “The kid didn’t have two dimes to rub together. It’s a little tough to put a portfolio together when you’re broke.” He barks out a laugh while toasting us with his wine, and my mouth falls open, incredulous.

  Anger is usually not my friend, but in this instance, it might be all I need.

  “Hey”—I play up the affronted angle—“Hunter was a great person. Sure, he wasn’t as financially savvy as yourself—” A good ego stroke always works with narcissistic men like Wallace. “But you could have helped him out, you know. Maybe got him started by giving him a loan?”

  “Lottie!” Mom’s fire engine red lips round out in a perfect O.

  “It’s fine.” Wallace lifts a finger. “I actually looked into a loan for the kid.” There’s a bleak look in his eyes as if it didn’t go so well. “Sometimes these things don’t pan out.”

  Ha! Knew it. There is a connection between Wallace and Hunter’s incessant need for green.

  “So, how does that work? I mean, the loan process. If I needed a loan for the bakery, would I just go to you?”

  Noah cuts me a quick look and gives a slight nod as if to say good work, and I can’t say I’m not gloating a bit at the moment.

  Wallace blows out a breath as if considering this. “It’s not an easy process, but since I know you”—he leans in toward Mom—“and I know your mother…” Eww. “I can see about pulling a few strings.”

  Mom coos and chortles as if those strings were directly connected to her body. Double eww.

  Noah clears his throat. “What’s the name of the financial institution?” There’s a hardness in his voice that has Wallace stiffening, so I give his knee a knock with mine, hoping he’ll take a hint. “I mean, I’m looking for office space, and I can certainly use a leg up.”

  “Martinelle Finance,” Wallace is quick to answer. “I’ve used them for several projects.” His demeanor darkens.

  We finish up with our meals, and soon Wallace and my mother are off to the late showing of some action adventure film at the Cineplex. I’m guessing that was not my mother’s pick. He is so into pleasing himself it sickens me to think what goes on behind closed doors.

  Noah and I take an inadvertent casual stroll down Main Street and end up at the huge fountain in the middle of Founders Square. He’s held my hand every step of the way, and it’s all I can do not to pull him into some dark alcove and have my way with him. To say Noah gets my heart pitter-pattering wouldn’t be skimming the surface of what this man does to me. Parts of my body are quivering that haven’t quivered in a good long while, and if I pant any faster, he’s going think I need a medic.

  Noah pulls me in, and my fingers glide down his tie as the moonlight washes him silver. The air is icy, and the wind blows the oak leaves around us like glittering confetti.

  “Lottie Lemon.” He doesn’t smile when he says my name. In fact, there’s a note of suspicion buried there somewhere. “You’re investigating Wallace, aren’t you?”

  “Aren’t you?” I tease. “I mean, professionals like Detective Fairbanks and yourself certainly must already have a bead on Wallace Chad by now.” I can’t help but flutter my lashes up at him. I might as well soften the blow to his ego with a little flirtation, and I do plan to spend the rest of the evening indulging in every flirtation possible with this shining moon god. The fountain rushes behind us, and the scent of night jasmine still clings to the air despite the fact autumn is well underway.

  Hi
s affect darkens as his expression turns serious on a dime. “We do,” he deadpans. “We also know that Martinelle Finance has a reputation, and they may be dealing in dicey waters. We found that out two days ago.” He brushes a stray hair from my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, and just because you hear it doesn’t mean you’ll listen—but we don’t need you in this investigation, Lottie. You’re right. We are professionals,” he says it sweetly enough, but it puts a pin in an ego I didn’t even know I had. “You keep baking pies, and brownies, and every cookie under the sun. You’re good at it. That’s what you do. This homicide investigation is what I do. And I’m good at it. So please, trust me to catch the bad guys and don’t go looking for them yourself. And I know you don’t care to hear that, but I couldn’t live with myself if anything happened to you.”

  Every last ounce of me sighs with defeat. A part of me wants to push aside the investigation for the night, push aside our differences in how that investigation should be run, and by who, and just take in the splendor of this god before me. I want to do a million carnal things with this beautiful man, but I can’t run away from this. Hunter meant something to me, and just because I’ve been bested doesn’t mean I’m going to let it go.

  “Okay, you are a professional, and my time and talents are better served mixing up cake batter and putting your favorite chocolate chip cookies in the oven.” I give a cheeky smile, and it’s genuine. “And thank you for sharing that tidbit with me. I know it’s not easy for you to share information, especially now that Detective Fairbanks has taken a blood oath from you.” I glower at the mention of her name.

  “Good.” His hand presses into my lower back, closing the distance between us. “If we weren’t having such a big day tomorrow, I’d invite you to my place right now.” There’s a glint of something decidedly naughty in his eyes, and I’m suddenly ready to eschew anything on my calendar tomorrow to explore the night in the Fox’s den.

  Then it hits me, and I tip my head back and groan.

  “I forgot all about the funeral in the morning.”

  “And I hope you didn’t forget about my real estate agent.”

  I suck in a quick breath, hopping up on the balls of my feet with excitement. “The rentals! I did forget all about them. But now that you’ve reminded me, I’m thrilled about it.” I cringe a moment. “It feels so wrong to be excited about anything tomorrow.”

  “I know.” He brushes a quick kiss to my lips, and my heart slaps hard against my chest as if it were trying to get out and get a kiss for itself. Noah Fox has pillow-soft lips, and I could eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  I’m not sure why, but there is a very real soul-crushing need for me to ask him about us, who we are, what we mean to one another. It sounds so silly, so schoolgirl to ask something as ridiculous as are you my new boyfriend? But inquiring minds would like to know if he’s interested in something more than just a few kisses.

  “What are you thinking?” he whispers into my ear, his lips softly outlining my temple, and the sensation alone has me outright moaning.

  “I’m thinking if you keep doing that I’ll need to take a dip in the fountain to cool off.” I pull back and look into his heated gaze. Noah is feeling something primal for me, and every last part of me is right there with him. “And I was wondering if”—my mouth remains open, but the words get lodged in my throat—“um, maybe we could grab lunch tomorrow. I really do enjoy spending time with you.”

  “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

  Lunch? That’s the best I could do? I frown over at him without meaning to. At least I’ll get to eat one of my favorite meals, and if Noah takes me to his place, I might get to take a bite out of something else my mouth is watering for.

  Noah cups my cheeks and pulls me in gently while landing those magic lips over mine. There is a sweetness to Noah’s kisses, a willingness to linger, and we do. Noah and I kiss in front of that fountain as if we were offering up a nonverbal proclamation to the townspeople of Honey Hollow. We are saying here we are, together, and that’s how we’ll remain. We are real. We are falling hard for one another. The only thing I can’t say with certainty is whether or not we’re officially together. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and seeing that I’ve been engaged before, that’s saying a lot.

  Noah has blown the doors off any expectations I might have had for the opposite gender. He’s blown the doors off what I thought I knew about the boundaries of my feelings, and that closed door to my heart has been taken right off the hinges.

  Yes, I will give Noah his space as far as the investigation is concerned, but only so he doesn’t bump into mine.

  Noah mentioned that Martinelle Finances may be dealing in dicey waters. And if he’s not looking to assist me in delving in further, I know a certain judge who owes me a favor for wrangling out the deepest, darkest secret from me.

  Noah is right. He can ask me a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean I’ll listen.

  And when it comes to solving Hunter’s murder, I sure as heck won’t.

  Chapter 27

  Honey Hollow Covenant Church is packed to maximum capacity as the entire town shows up to bid farewell to one of its own. The funeral is brief, and both Bear and his mother offer up moving eulogies. But once they roll that video montage of Hunter’s beautiful life, there isn’t a dry eye in the house. Then just like that, the service is over.

  Keelie threads her arm through mine as the bodies disappear and the sanctuary begins to drain. “That was beautiful, Lottie. If by chance I happen to die before you, please make sure to vet any photos my mother is willing to toss into the pictorial. That picture with Hunter’s bedhead made me cringe. Rest assured, if anything untimely should happen to me and things at my funeral do not go as instructed, I’m not above ditching paradise to commence a good old-fashioned haunting.”

  “Duly noted, and, might I add, more than a little morbid considering the venue.”

  Keelie openly scowls at someone seated near the back, and I crane my neck to get a better look. “Can you believe he brought her?”

  “Who brought whom?” No sooner do I say it than I spot them, and my heart lurches in my chest.

  Noah offers a quick wave, along with what looks to be an apologetic smile, as a very unimpressed Detective Fairbanks stands dutifully by his side.

  “That’s funny. He didn’t mention anything about her last night.”

  A light tap lands on my shoulder, and I turn to find the good judge nodding solemnly my way. Keelie spots her sister and takes off singing hello in such an alarmingly cheery tone half the congregation turns to inspect her. But that’s Keelie. Nell always says you can’t keep a good Keelie down. And she’s definitely right about that. Knowing Keelie, she’d come back to haunt us just to say hello.

  “Everett! What a surprise.” And as quick as the joy of seeing him comes, it dissipates once I realize what he knows. My cheeks heat on cue.

  “Lemon.” He bows slightly. “My condolences.”

  “Accepted.” I frown up at him because a part of me is waiting for him to whisk me away to some psychiatric facility for a prompt and necessary evaluation.

  “Collette asked me to join her. She was extremely distraught so, of course, I couldn’t say no.”

  “I bet she was.” That woman never had a kind thing to say about Hunter. She’s simply using his funeral to get into Mr. Sexy’s pants. “So? How are you doing with the news I shared?”

  He pulls back with confusion, and regret takes over his features. “Honestly, I don’t know what to make of it. And, that’s why I was hoping to talk to you this afternoon. I think I need you to elaborate.”

  “So you can firm up the case against me to have me committed? No thank you.” I glance back to where Noah and his date were just a few minutes ago, but they’ve done a disappearing act. Probably outside inspecting the casket for clues before they bury poor Hunter. “But since you pulled something so intimate from me—a
feat no other human has ever achieved before—” I told Nell myself, and that was willingly. Everett offers the hint of a smug grin. “I’d like to ask a favor of you. I need you to meet me in Ashford sometime this week.”

  “Stepping out for a clandestine meeting behind my stepbrother’s back so soon? I’m intrigued. Where are we meeting? Just a heads-up. I prefer hotels to motels.”

  “Ha-ha. You’re not funny. I’ll text you with the details. Do me a favor, though, and try not to look so official. You’re downright intimidating in a suit.” He breaks out into an outright grin. “We’ll have to pretend to be a couple going in for a loan. And it has to be believable.”

  “A couple looking for a loan?” Gone is any trace of a smile, and he’s right back to being his intimidating self. “It sounds like you’re investigating. What’s in this for me?” He folds his arms across his chest as if we were suddenly in the boardroom going over hostile negotiations.

  “This is a prepaid venture. I handed you the secrets of my soul on a silver platter, remember?”

  He leans in, stern. “I want more. A full and thorough examination from A to Z. I need to know when this began, how often it occurs, and if you’re hearing voices.”