Page 49 of Macaron Massacre
“What are you doing here?” I wrap my arms around his sturdy frame and dot a kiss to his pillow soft lips.
“I couldn’t sleep knowing you’d be here all alone. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you, Lemon.” Those cobalt flames he calls eyes press into mine. Everett recently revealed to me, that about six years ago, a woman by the name of Harlow James told him she was carrying his child. No sooner did she share the news than her car skidded off an icy road and into a body of water below. Everett said they weren’t a couple by any means, more of a quickie that was about to take a turn for the paternal, but he was devastated nonetheless. I saw real agony in his eyes the night he shared that with me. And it’s that same look of agony I’m seeing now.
He nods to the street. “I saw the cruiser.”
“Yes, and I’m safe. I promise you that. Does that make you feel better?” I run my fingers through his hair, still damp from the shower, and my heart quickens for him. Those demanding blue eyes, that midnight black hair. It’s not a wonder why Everett has every woman on the planet wrapped around his little finger, including me.
His demeanor remains serious. “Do you have your gun?”
“Are you insane? I’m not bringing a gun to the bakery. That’s like bringing it to a daycare center. This place is innocent. Nothing is going to happen here.”
He tips his head down, his eyes bearing hard into my own.
“Okay, fine. Anything can happen here, and it has. But I just can’t seem to bring myself to do it.” I give a little shrug. “Coffee and a donut? I just fried up a batch of glazed goodness, and they’re stillhot.”
“Now you’re talking my language.”
Everett takes off his jacket, and we sit at a table near the registers.
I’m almost afraid to ask, but I have to. “Do you think she’s watching us?”
Everett’s eyes press to each of mine, and he gives the slightest nod. “I’m afraid this is worse than you know.”
“What?Everett—have you been keeping things from me?”
“I’m sorry.” He pinches his eyes closed a moment. “I didn’t want to worry you. But I think it’s best you know. I’ve been getting calls to my personal line at the courthouse. They don’t say anything, just wait until I hang up. But it’s not a number that anyone has access to. Every time I see something out of place I wonder.” His lips purse as he keeps his eyes pinned on me. “But my concern lies with you. If at all possible—I am begging you to keep that gun with you at all times. I will sleep better, focus better at work, heck—I will be able to think straight again knowing that you have protection.”
A heavy sigh expels from me. “Fine. I’ll do that for you, but only if you do something for me—hire a private detective. Someone who can dedicate their time to following you, watching the places where you work and live, and hopefully catch this maniac in action.”
“I will look into that. I will. In fact, I’ll ask Noah to point me in the right direction.” His jaw tenses at the mention of his old stepbrother. “Have you thought about the case? Any idea of who could have killed Rich Dallas?”
“I’ve been thinking about that underground poker ring. How does that work? How many players are there typically? Does each one bet whatever they want?”
“It can be open to a good amount of people, but it’s ten max for Texas Hold’em, and I know for a fact that’s what Louie and his guys specialize in. It’s a no limit game. A part of the thrill comes from knowing you can go all in during any hand.”
“So a single player could have been responsible for Rich’s big win?” I inch back, trying to digest this. “Too bad we’ll never know who that was, or if it’s even true.”
“And without it, we still have plenty of suspects. Noah said forensics found no prints on the knife.”
I suck in my bottom lip to keep from breaking out into an all-out grin. “Is it wrong of me to be unreasonably happy that you and Noah finally seem to be taking a step in the right direction?”
“Yes. It is completely unreasonable because as long as you are in the picture, and you will be forever, we will never agree on anything.”
“And I hate that unreasonable truth.”
He flexes a barely-there smile, and my stomach bisects with heat.
“Do you realize how irresistible you are when you smile?” I reach over and grab hold of his hands and let him warm me. “You wouldn’t believe the mileage you could get off of one of those daring grins.”
“If I grin, do you promise to get daring?” His eyes do a slow ride from my lips to my sweater, right back up to my eyes before he sheds a devilish grin that promises everything sinful under the sun.
“Why, Judge Baxter”—I bat my lashes up at him—“I do believe you just propositioned me.”
“That marble island was made for us, Lemon.”
I wince. “Yes, but it was also made for a million tiny macarons that currently reside on its surface in anticipation of Mayor Nash’s big win. However, I just so happen to have an office no bigger than an airplane bathroom, but I think we can make it work.”
“To the office, Lemon.”