“Well, they say opposites attract,” Echo grinned.

  “How fun!”

  “What about Mattie and Spencer? Are they getting along better?” Echo inquired, taking a bite out of her cupcake.

  “I’d say it was more of an armed truce, but yes, they’re at least civil now,” Missy chuckled. “I don’t see those two ever going on a date.”

  “Well, someday Spencer will find someone.”

  “I sure hope so. He’s such a wonderful human being.”

  “Agreed,” Echo nodded. “I think Mattie is pretty special too. She’s almost magical when it comes to the girls.”

  “And Kumar has made so much progress with Kaylee,” Missy teared up just thinking about it. “Oh my gosh, Echo. Am I ever going to stop crying at the drop of a tissue? These mood swings are killing me,” Missy laughed at herself, dabbing at her eyes.

  “Yep, about six months from now, you’ll be perfectly fine,” Echo smiled and patted her best friend’s hand.

  “What if I have post-partum depression though? I worry about that,” Missy bit her lip.

  “Happens to the best of us, honey. I got through it and you will too, if it happens. You have a great support network. But for now, stop borrowing trouble and worrying about things that haven’t happened yet,” Echo advised mock-sternly.

  “I’m trying,” Missy nodded.

  “So, what’s next on the agenda for you? Any special events coming up that I’ll need to participate in?” Echo asked hopefully.

  “You never know,” Missy gave her a wicked grin.

  **

  Tim sat across from Fiona at her dining table, closely guarding his wine-glass from her freely-pouring hand.

  “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean that I agree with any of what you said,” he insisted, affecting a particularly taciturn manner.

  “Of course not,” Fiona smiled a secret smile. “What did you bring us for dessert anyway? Another one of your grandmother’s delectable key lime pies?” she asked hopefully.

  “No, I actually created something new,” Tim looked down, the tips of his ears reddening in a very telling way.

  “You invented a recipe? That’s amazing, I can’t wait to try it. In fact, let’s not wait to try it. Let’s get some right now,” her eyes gleamed.

  Tim blinked at her for several seconds, reflexively pushing his heavy glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Now? We can’t have pie now. We haven’t even finished our salads, much less our meal,” he frowned.

  “Oh, but you’re wrong, Timmy. We can have dessert now if we want to…you wanna know why? Because we’re free-spirited adults who can do whatever we want,” she insisted. “We can sit on my pool table, eating pie and drinking wine for dinner if we want to,” she gestured broadly.

  “We most certainly cannot,” his brushy eyebrows beetled over his eyes.

  Fiona stood and moved to his side of the table.

  “Come on,” she held out her hand to her reserved boss, who didn’t move a muscle.

  “Come on! Trust me,” she stomped her foot, still holding out her hand.

  He slowly set down his fork and put his hand in hers, looking at it like it was a snake that might bite him.

  “That’s more like it,” her eyes were warm. “Let’s go.”

  **

  Tim sat cross-legged on the pool table, his wine glass empty, his salted caramel dark chocolate mousse pie mostly gone, and wondered what precisely had happened.

  “More wine,” Fiona sang out, wiggling a new bottle as she walked into the room, corkscrew in hand.

  “Did we finish the other one?” Tim asked, feeling very warm and relaxed.

  “Yep, sure did, and there’s more where this came from,” Fiona grinned, hopping lightly up onto the table and sitting facing her boss.

  She poured them both another glass of wine, then looked down at the remnant of the amazing pie. “Want some more?” she asked.

  “I think I just might,” Tim nodded, picking up his fork.

  “Put that down, you won’t be needing it,” Fiona promised.

  “What do you mean?” Tim frowned. “I’m not going to eat pie with my fingers,” he insisted.

  “Nope, you’re not,” she gave him a devilish smile.

  Taking his fork away from him, she stuck it directly in the pie and scooped up a bite. She raised it slowly to his mouth.

  “I’m more than capable of feeding myself…” he began to rant, stopping when she stuffed the bite in his mouth.

  He chewed and swallowed slowly, enjoying the taste and staring into the eyes of the vixen in front of him who had captured his gaze.

  “I misfired,” she said softly, lightly swiping a spot of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth, then bringing it to hers and licking it clean. “You make a delicious pie, Timmy.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he whispered hoarsely, closing his eyes and giving in to the moment as she moved in for the kiss.

  **

  Matisse was headed out to her car after taking care of the girls all day when Spencer pulled up into the drive.

  “You’re late,” she teased.

  “I am? Late for what?” Spencer was confused and glanced at his watch.

  “Your daily “arrive at the worst possible time” plan didn’t work out. No one is sleeping, there are no attacks happening, we’re not in the middle of a meal, and I’m on my way out,” she chuckled.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to try harder next time,” he grinned, relieved. “Everything went okay today? I was busy with investigation stuff.”

  “Yes, Spencer, believe it or not, we were able to survive without you hovering over us today,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Is it really that bad to have me around?” he challenged her.

  “Nah, you’re kinda growing on me, I guess,” Mattie shrugged. “And the girls love you.”

  “Thanks for the ringing endorsement,” he joked, folding his arms and leaning against the hood of his car. “Where you headed?”

  “Home…where most people go after work. It’s dinner time, silly,” she waved and started to get into her car.

  “Hey, wait,” Spencer called out, trotting over to her.

  “What?” Mattie looked at her watch impatiently.

  “What’s the hurry? Got a hot date?”

  “Not in this lifetime,” she gave him a look. “I’m hungry, and you’re preventing me from procuring food.”

  “Well, if you’re that hungry, I’ve got some steaks that I was planning to grill tonight, and my buddy left a couple of craft beers in the fridge. You’re welcome to stay and eat with me. Maybe we could go for a swim or something afterwards,” he invited, looking down when she didn’t respond right away.

  “Well, I suppose if I have to put up with your company in order to get a decent steak, I can do that. But, wait…”

  “What?”

  “Can you actually cook?”

  “Can I cook?” Spencer grinned. “Oh, you’re in for a treat.”

  Missy quickly closed the nursery curtains and giggled, having overheard the conversation. “Well, what do you know?” she murmured happily.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  * * *

  Will Channing, a.k.a. Janssen, stood in front of the charred remains of his wife’s former roadside café, Hawg Heaven, knowing how devastated she must be, and his heart was consumed with a pain so profound that he could actually feel it physically. With his pack slung over his shoulders, he jogged through town to the cozy little house that his wife had bought for herself and their son, back when she thought that he’d died in a foreign country. She’d done well for herself, and he was proud of her. Now it was his time to be there for her. She’d need him now more than ever, and he felt ashamed that he’d walked away in the first place.

  Will placed his hand on the front doorknob, and when he found that it was locked, he rang the bell. There was no response, so he rang again. He walked around to the back of the house and stood on his tiptoes to peek in the kitchen windows. It seemed that no one was home. The sound of a dog barking caught his attention, and he looked across the back alley. The sight that greeted him made his heart drop to his stomach. His son, Ryan, was sitting on the back steps of the house behind his wife’s, his head in his hands. With Barney, his hound dog, making all that racket, Ryan looked up, saw his dad at the back door of his house and slowly stood.

  Will lifted a hand in greeting and Ryan tore through the neighbor’s backyard, across the alley, vaulted his mom’s back fence and barreled into his dad’s arms.

  “You came,” he hugged him fiercely. “I knew you would.”

  “You alright?” Will asked, holding his son tight.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Ryan replied glumly, finally releasing his hold.

  “Where’s your mother?”

  Ryan looked supremely uncomfortable, and his eyes darted briefly toward the house from where he’d just come.

  “She in there?” Will’s stomach clenched.

  “Yeah.”

  “Whose house is that?” a muscle in his jaw flexed.

  “It’s…uh…Mr. Hundman’s. We’ve been staying there since the fire. He said we’d be safe there,” Ryan turned beet red.

  “I see,” Will nodded curtly.

  “Now that you’re here, I guess we can move back into our house. We’ll be safe now,” Ryan bit his lip, clearly uncomfortable.

  “I…uh…I won’t be staying long, son,” Will clenched his teeth, keeping his emotions in check.

  “I thought you might say that,” Ryan gazed at him without judgment and with a touch of…was that…pity?

  Will’s heart withered within him.

  “Sometimes the right answer in life isn’t the easy answer, son,” Will embraced Ryan for what he hoped wasn’t the last time. “I love you, boy,” he choked out.

  “I love you too, Dad,” Ryan’s tears flowed freely down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry that things…” he trailed off, stifling a sob.

  “Don’t be sorry, son. Don’t ever be sorry for stuff you can’t control. Life just happens sometimes. You do your best and be your best always, hear me?” Will’s tears ran into his beard and caught there, like diamonds in the thick brush of it.

  “I will, Dad. I always do. For you,” Ryan hugged him again and Will hugged him back, then held him at arm’s length and looked into his eyes.

  “Don’t do it for me, buddy. Do it for you. Be your best…for you,” he clapped him on the shoulder, then turned to go.

  Ryan sat on the back porch of his mother’s house, watching his father’s retreating figure until he faded entirely from sight. Barney had trotted across the alley, wiggling in the gap in the gate to come sit by his boy. When Will Channing was gone, Ryan turned to the sweet hound and wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck, sobbing for all he was worth. Barney lapped at his tears and stayed by his side.

  Copyright 2018 Summer Prescott

  All Rights Reserved

 

 

  Summer Prescott, Butter Pecan Killer (Cupcakes in Paradise Book 10)

 

 

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