Page 15 of Bobbing for Bodies

“Bear.” I rush over and wrap my arms tight around him before motioning to the staff that I’ll be taking a break. “For a second I thought you were Hunter.” I shake my head up at him, my eyes flooding with tears. “I’m so sorry about everything you’ve been through. I can’t imagine the pain you’re in right now.”

His cheek flinches. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He looks around, and a sigh expels from his enormous chest. “This was the last place I saw him alive. It feels like five minutes ago. If I try hard enough, I can imagine that he’ll walk right through that door grinning at me.”

My heart breaks just hearing it.

The bell chimes again, and we turn to find Everett striding in, clad in a midnight-colored suit, his dark hair slicked back, and he twitches the slightest smile when he sees me.

Just as I’m about to greet him, a stunning brunette strides in behind him, thin as a rail, and stilettoes that practically make her touch the ceiling. Her chestnut-colored hair is taut in a bun, and she’s wearing gold-rimmed glasses. A briefcase sits tucked under her arm. She wastes no time in striding over along with Everett.

Bear leans in. “Hope you don’t mind, but I decided to meet with my new attorney here.”

I suck in a quick breath as I look to Everett’s female companion, and now that I think about it, I recognize her from that day the Simonson sisters took me to court.

“Fiona Dagmeyer.” She’s quick to shake Bear’s hand. “Why don’t we take a seat.”

“Oh, sure,” I say, pointing to an empty table by the window. “I can bring you coffee and some apple berry cobbler I just pulled out of the oven.” I tip my head toward Bear. “I’ll bring a few brownies to get you through it as well.”

“No thanks.” Bear picks up my hand carefully. “Just sit by my side. That’s all the help I need to get me through this.”

“I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“No, you won’t,” Fiona corrects with a curt smile that says something nasty far more than it ever does something nice. “I prefer to speak with my clients alone. I find when they’re around family or friends they seem to want to embellish to save themselves of embarrassing truths. I don’t have time for any of that.”

“That’s fine.” I shake my head at Bear. “The two of you take a seat there, and Everett and I will sit at another table. I’ll still be here for you.”

Bear and Fiona head to the table near the window, and I’m slow to take a seat with the handsome judge in front of me.

“I’ll get you some coffee,” I say, batting my lashes up at him nervously. “In fact, I’d better check on those pies I have in the oven. There’s so much to do before I close up for the night. I’m sure you understand.”

I try to take off, and he quickly steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Lemon.” He points to the empty table near the door. “It’s time.”

I frown up at him. “I don’t want it to be time. Can’t you see I have nothing to hide? This little interrogation of yours is completely uncalled for.”

“Lottie.” His brows knot up. “You’re incriminating yourself with your uncharacteristic behavior. You do realize I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m not turning you over to the police.”

“It’s not the police I’m worried about.” It’s men with nets that scare me. Ever since I was old enough to realize my gift was far from normal, I was petrified I’d end up in a mental institution somewhere. Just me in a straitjacket and a thousand critters from yesteryear. It’s enough to make me go mad just thinking about it.

Everett lands a warm hand over my back and ushers us to the table as we take our seats.

He leans in, and the warm scent of his cologne tickles my senses. It’s a bit spicier than the one that Noah wears but equally intoxicating. There’s just something about cologne that does it for me. It might as well be a love potion—I respond that aggressively to it. A part of the reason is that my father wore his Old Spice liberally. Mom gifted my sisters and me each a bottle a few years back for Christmas, and we called it Dad in a Bottle. I guess that’s why I love musky scents on men. Suddenly, everything just feels right with the world.

Everett takes a breath as if he too were girding himself. “What are you really afraid of?”

“You judging me.” That, and psychotropic medications being force-fed down my pie hole. I would be the worst patient ever. They really would need to tie me to a bed.

A warm laugh bounces from him—a rarity in and of itself. “That’s what I do by trade. I judge.” His features harden. “But I won’t judge you as a person. Now, walk me through it. You thought you saw a squirrel coming in through the front door.”

“It was getting pretty warm in here with all of those bodies.” Speaking of which, my body heat index spikes twenty degrees, and I can feel a bite of sweat erupting under each arm. “I hadn’t eaten all day. Can you believe it? All of those fudgy brownies right in my face and not one bite.” Truth. “Anyway. I guess it wasn’t a squirrel after all. I’m just too embarrassed to tell you what it really was.” A flare of heat rips through me as I spew an entire catalog of lies.

“What was it?”

Everett looks every bit the concerned friend. It’s amazing to me that just a month ago I was swatting his behind with my forehead, and boy did I ever annoy the living heck out of him with those fancy face maneuvers. And yet here we are, chatting in my brand new bakery—about the curse that’s finally about to take down my life.

I clear my throat. “It was a dust ball.” It comes out lower than a whisper.

“A what?” He shakes his head in disbelief.