Murder in the Mix (Books 1-3) Page 11

  Noah barks out a laugh that quickly softens to something sorrowful. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing that happened to you. You’re better off without him.”

  “I know, but as pitiful as it sounds, it took me a while to get that through my thick head. I guess I’ve always felt like a castoff, unwanted, unlovable. Deep in my heart I knew Curtis and I were too good to be true.” Tears come uninvited, and I’m quick to blink them away. “My mother left me in a firehouse when I was just a few hours old. Not a stitch of clothing on. Still had my umbilical cord attached.” I wipe a lone tear away before it has the chance to roll down my cheek. “My dad found me, took me home, and the rest is Lemon family history as my mother likes to say.”

  “And that’s how you became Lottie Lemon.” He examines me with a warm smile, his tender eyes taking in my features. “That’s a beautiful story. And you’re wrong. You are no castoff. It was a great mercy you ended up in that firehouse that day. The Lemons sound like wonderful people.”

  “They are.”

  The wind picks up with a violent force and blows our napkins all over the place as if they were confetti. Noah and I laugh while chasing down every last one. We put our food away and start in on a walk around the trailhead that leads to a viewpoint through the forest to our left. The winding dirt trail is rife with rocks and pinecones, so Noah takes up my hand as we head up. His fingers are warm and sure, strong and thick, and I drink down the feel of them against my own. We get to the top and his grip loosens a moment, but I firm my grasp over his.

  “It’s okay,” I say it so soft the wind carries my voice right up into the boughs above us. “I don’t mind.”

  The hint of a smile twitches on his lips as his hand tightens a bit over mine.

  “Good. I don’t mind either.”

  Noah and I walk to the edge of the scenic lookout, hand in hand, my heart doing its best to drill right through my chest, my adrenaline hitting its zenith. But we don’t look out at the golden glory below us. We’re not at all interested in this new vantage point to examine the majesty nature has on display. Our gaze remains firmly locked on one another.

  Noah leans in, and my eyes widen a notch. It’s happening. Noah Corbin Fox is going for the kill, and I can’t help but hold my breath in anticipation. A smile twitches on his lips as he bows in and brushes his lips over mine with a barely there pass, and my body pulsates with a heartbeat all its own. A sudden wave of dizziness hits me as my eyes remain closed, and I would swear on all that is good and right that the world just swayed beneath my feet.

  He pulls back as his Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I would apologize, but I’m not in the least bit sorry.”

  My lips part, but nothing comes out as a laugh gets locked in my throat. “Me neither.” I hike up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his and feel their softness before I open for him and let him in. Noah Fox kisses me tenderly, sweetly, and then with a greater intensity, something darker and deeper. There have been many kisses in my life, but none as beautiful, none this alive and electrifying.

  Noah and I spend a couple of unapologetic hours with our arms wrapped around one another, our bodies sealed at the lips.

  The ground spins beneath my feet again, and I wrap my arms around him to keep from falling. But I’m falling in a far different way. I can feel it. No matter how much I swore it would never happen again, it’s too late.

  It’s happening.

  And I can’t do a thing about it.

  * * *

  We’re late to the game, missing the entire first half. But we cheer with the crowd as the Ashford Spartans beat their crosstown rivals. I watched Coach Hagan as much as I did the game.

  “This is great,” I say as we head to the field long after the stands have all but cleared. “He’ll be in a good mood. I bet we can ask him anything.”

  “That’s the thing.” Noah pulls his hand from mine and takes a few giant steps ahead while walking backwards. “You’re going to stand safely on the sidelines while I do the talking. If he’s the one we’re after, there’s no way I’m putting you in harm’s way.”

  “Aren’t you adorable.” I can’t help but frown as I speed past him. “But I don’t need you to protect me, Noah. I can handle myself. I come from a long line of strong women.” At least those that I know of.

  I spot Coach Hagan just finishing up an interview and pull the hood of my wool coat halfway over my face. “Coach! Just a few questions.” I jog up to him before glancing back to where Noah looks on disapprovingly. “I’m with the Ashford Times. Where did you pull that last-minute energy from? The chips were down, but you rallied in that last half and came back to life.” Chips were down? Are there chips in football? I think not. And came back to life? Well, at least that’s heading in the right direction—onto my next topic, death.

  He babbles on in something akin to Latin to me, and I nod along as if I understand everything about that long-drive, punt, Hail Mary of a conversation.

  “Sounds great.” I take a small step in. “I would like to offer my condolences. I understand a colleague of yours was brutally murdered in Honey Hollow. Do you have anything you’d like to say about that? Perhaps a word of comfort to her family? Is there a good memory you had of the victim that you would like to be made public?” Made public? Nobody wants their dirty laundry aired anywhere near their fellow neighbor! Maybe I should have let Noah work his dark magic after all.

  Coach Hagan takes in a sharp breath and holds it as his attention drifts toward the empty stands for a moment. “You think you know someone. You give up everything, and then you find out it was all a lie,” he says the word under his breath, and it’s all I can do to strain to hear it. His jaw clenches. “Tell her family I’m sorry it happened. It’s a terrible, terrible thing.” He starts to walk off, and I jump in his path.

  “It sounds like you really knew her.” I need something else. Something that confirms he was angry enough to kill her, but my brain can’t seem to spit out the right words.

  He shakes his head as he steps around me. “Turns out, I didn’t know her at all.”

  I watch as he disappears out the gate along with the trickling of what’s left of the crowd.

  Noah steps in beside me. “Well, Detective Lemon? What’s the verdict? Is the coach a killer?”

  “I think he just might be.”

  Chapter 14

  The secret to a successful piecrust is not to skimp on the butter or shortening, whichever the recipe calls for. The key to a delicious crust is to not over-mix after adding the chilled water to the aforementioned ingredients and flour. It is a delicate dance of well-timed, well-orchestrated ingredients that if done right will produce an amazing flaky crust that is guaranteed to melt in your mouth.

  Some people choose to go for a run, get a massage, or even veg out and watch TV to help alleviate the stress in their lives, but for me baking has always been my solace. I’ve found that the ingredients need me to make a successful dessert a reality, and in a way I need them, too.

  “You kissed him?” Lainey shouts with an undue level of excitement as she hops into her stilettos. My sister might work in a library, but she’s been known to glam it up on more than one occasion. By every definition, Lainey is the hot librarian.

  Keelie leans against the baking counter, eager to hear once again all about that magical lip-lock, and I shoo her right back off. Thankfully, we’re in the rear of the Honey Pot’s kitchen, a safe distance from the prying ears around us. “Sorry.” She swipes a piece of a chopped apple from the mixing bowl, already drenched in thick, rich caramel sauce and moans as she bites into it. The entire restaurant is filled with the heavenly scent of warm caramel apple pie. “Of course, she kissed him. I didn’t raise no fool. That man is a force of nature to be reckoned with. She was simply showing him who’s boss.” Her lips curl, and I can practically see her undressing Noah in her mind’s eye.

  “For the record, he kissed me first. And well, I didn’t want to be rude, so I kissed him back.”


  The two of them sigh in unison.

  “You’re both being ridiculous. It was nothing. It was just a kiss among friends, I guess.” It sure didn’t feel like nothing. My body still trembles just thinking about those oven-hot kisses we shared yesterday.

  I shake myself loose from the thought. “Look, the Apple Festival is less than two days away, and I need to get these pies done and delivered by Tuesday. Holland called and said he wants the pies there early to help set up.”

  Keelie and Lainey watch mesmerized as my fingers work slowly to lace the lattice over each and every cutie pie, and there are hundreds of them lining every surface area in the Honey Pot. I’ve only got a couple of ovens to work with, and, at that, it will take hours to bake all of these pies.

  “Someone’s changing the subject.” Lainey puts down her purse for the first time in an hour and washes her hands to help.

  “The subject should never be on me to begin with. Merilee was just buried hours ago, and her killer is still prowling the mean streets of Honey Hollow.”

  Keelie scoffs at the analogy. “Please, there’s not a person who lives here who’s capable of carrying out an act like that. Have you considered that it might be a total stranger? Some crazed psychotic from the city coming in for a tour of the orchard? I spoke with my father. He said there was an uptick in foot traffic at the apple farm that day.”

  “Your father still hasn’t crossed me off the suspect list.” I shoot her a sour look without meaning to.

  “It’s a formality,” she over annunciates the word because she’s already repeated it to me a half dozen times.

  Lainey stands across from me and ties an apron on. “So, who do you think did it?”

  “I don’t know.” My mind swirls with the possibilities. “For sure I didn’t have a thing to do with it.” That long-departed orange tabby flits through my mind, and I give a guilty glance to both my best friend and my sister but don’t breathe a word. The last thing I need is for them to question my sanity. Lord knows I’ve done that enough on my own. “Mom got Eve Hollister to talk, and it turns out, it was Melissa Hagan, Coach Hagan’s wife. She’s pretty petite. I don’t know if she’d have the strength to plunge that knife in and out so fast and make a break for it. But then she did look fit. Coach Hagan was seeing Merilee. He all but confirmed it.”

  “So strange.” Lainey tries to steal an apple slice from a cutie pie, and I bat her hand away. “I mean the fact you said Merilee potentially had two boyfriends.”

  Keelie grunts, “The fact she had one and I have none makes me question everything. She was so angry and bitter all the time. Is that what men are looking for? Angry and bitter?”

  “Nope,” a male voice rumbles from our left, and we look over to find a smiling Noah Fox. My heart thumps out a riot just for him as I smile back.

  “Welcome to my kitchen, Detective. We were just going over suspects and motives. I’m thinking Melissa could have been angry enough to do it.”

  “I agree.” He leans against the wall and folds his arms over that enormous chest of his. Noah is pretty fit, too. It’s been mere hours since we last saw one another, and yet my mouth is already watering for more of those delicious kisses. “Anger can trump strength, I can assure you of that.”

  That note crops up in my mind, but I submerge it once again.

  “Then there’s Moose—Coach Hagan himself.” I think on it for a moment. “He’s determined to win on and off the field. He had that kind of a fire in his belly. Not to mention, his off-handed comment about people not being trustworthy still has me rattled.” I told them all about it. Lainey thought I should have reported that to the sheriff’s department right away, but I can’t help but think something isn’t clicking. “He’s got kids, though. I can’t see him throwing away his whole life just because he was scorned by a woman.”

  Keelie waves me off. “Prison cells are full of men just like that.”

  “She’s right,” Noah is quick to agree. “Then there’s boyfriend number two.”

  Keelie shakes her head as she hurries to swallow down her next mouthful of caramelized apples. “Travis Darren? Naomi was wrong. I bet she mixed him up with Coach Hagan.”

  Lainey holds up a finger. “I bet you’re right! Travis Darren could have been a code name for her real boy toy.”

  I groan at the visual. “And then there’s—” I’m about to bring up one other name just as Noah interjects.

  “Me.” He blinks a sad smile my way. “I just got a call. Captain Turner wants me down in Ashford in a half hour to interrogate me.”

  “What?” the three of us cry out in unison.

  “There’s no way,” I protest while struggling to remove my apron. “I’m coming along. You had nothing at all to do with this.”

  “And that’s exactly why I’m not worried about it. And you shouldn’t be either. Stay here and bake pies. I’ll be back soon enough.”

  “You can’t stop me,” I say, coming toward him, my fingers still fumbling to free me of the bird’s nest I’ve just turned my apron strings into.

  “And you can’t change my mind.” He bows slightly toward Keelie and Lainey before waving his way out the door. “I’ll call you.”

  “You don’t have my number!” I shout.

  My phone bleats, and I head over to find a text.

  I’m a detective, Lottie. I have my ways.

  A laugh lives and dies in my chest. “He has his ways, indeed.”

  I get back to the all-important task of baking, and before long, Nell is standing in our midst.

  “Well, girls?” Nell casts those beautiful sparkling blue eyes my way when she says it. “A little birdy just told me there was a delivery next door this afternoon.”

  “What?” I squeal so loud the head chef barrels over just to make sure an avalanche of apples wasn’t crushing me. “I didn’t even notice. How could this have happened right under my nose?”

  Keelie gives a sly wink. “I made sure she didn’t set foot outside the restaurant today.”

  Lainey offers a knowing smile. “And I made sure to be here for the big reveal.”

  “Shall we?” Nell holds out her arm, and I thread mine through it as we make our way next door where a shower of light pours into the night.

  A breath hitches in my throat as I look past the construction workers finishing up for the day, past the debris of boxes and plastic wrapping lying over the floors, and I can’t believe my eyes. In the back, I spot a bevy of gleaming stainless steel appliances as Nell leads us inside. The walls smell of fresh paint, glowing a butter yellow just the way I imagined. The refrigerated shelves are all more or less in place. And as we make our way to the kitchen, tears fall fast and furious as I take in the drop-dead gorgeous ovens, as I take in the size of the industrial mixer that is almost as tall as I am.

  “It’s too beautiful to comprehend. I can’t believe you’re going to give me the run of this place.” I shake my head at Nell. “You won’t regret it. I’ll treat it as if it were my own. I’ll love this bakery as much as I love—well, Pancake.” We all laugh at that one, but it’s true and we all know it.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Nell pats her hand over mine. “But I’m afraid it will never open without one last thing, and it’s up to you to provide it.” She nods up at me solemnly. There’s something she’s saying with her eyes that I can’t quite grasp, something important that supersedes words, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. “It needs a name. And not just any name. A good one!”

  Lainey and Keelie start shouting out all sorts of adorable monikers. Honey Hollow Bakery, Honey Sweet Treats, the Honey Jar Cookies and More, Honey Hollow Sweet Shop, Desserts First, Desserts to Die For—and I quickly veto that last one.

  “I don’t know.” I look around the place. “Those are all great names, except the one involving death.” I shoot Keelie a look. “But none of them feel like this place.”

  Nell pulls me in close, her sweet face inching toward mine. “I don’t want it to feel like thi
s place. I want it to feel like your place. What means something to you, Lottie? I want this to be personal for you.”

  “Personal.” I try to take it all in at once, and yet I can’t get my head to believe any of this is real. “I don’t know. This is all too wonderful for me. I don’t know anything about naming a bakery, Nell. In fact, my mind is so warped from baking all those cutie pies I can’t think straight. Everywhere I look I see a cutie pie. Cutie pie, cutie pie, cutie pie.” I blow out a hard breath at the place, feeling both hopeless in finding a name and undeserving of such a great honor.

  “Cutie pie.” Nell feasts her eyes on every corner of this magnificent space. “I think it suits it, don’t you?”

  Keelie claps her hands. “The Cutie Pie Bakery!”

  “The Cutie Pie Bakery.” I try it out for size. “Oh my goodness, I think I love it.”

  The three of them break out in cheers.

  “But wait, we’ll be serving a lot more than pies. I mean, there will be cookies, and strudels, and brownies, and cupcakes, and macaroons, and bread puddings, and cobblers, and you name it. I plan on having it fully stocked. And cake! There will be lots of cake!”

  Lainey lets out a breath as she cocks her head to the side. “How about a smaller sign that reads fine confections, coffee, and more?”

  Keelie gasps, “That says it all!”

  “The Cutie Pie Bakery,” I say once again, this time with the hope that those words hold in them. “Fine confections, coffee, and more. I love it!”

  The four of us jumble together in one long, tangled embrace, and I never want to let go.

  It’s perfect.

  * * *

  An hour passes and Keelie gets to the business of bussing tables. Lainey went home to feed Pancake for me as I finished putting another batch of adorable little cutie pies into the oven. But there’s not one ounce of me that wants to sit around waiting for those cute beauts to finish up. Instead, I head next door to their namesake again and make my way inside just as Bear and his cousin, Hunter, finish up for the day.