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I t rang and rang.

He didn’t pick up. He didn’t have his voicemail switched on, either.

I scowled at the screen and tapped out an angry text.

Call me. We need to talk .

I was pondering which emoji would best signify my (loving) disapproval of his avoidant behaviour when Pippa banged the back door open and stuck her head out.

“Charlie,” she said, “Jasper had to run, and we’re getting swamped.”

“Coming.” I hit send and hurried inside.

Kevin did not call me.

Kevin did not even reply to my text. I could see that he read it, but there was no reply.

I checked an embarrassing number of times as the morning ticked by. By lunchtime, I was lightly seething with a mix of hurt feelings and annoyance.

Mostly hurt feelings.

Pippa reluctantly left to meet her friends in Oxford. She’d tried to cancel but I insisted I’d fire her if she didn’t go. Jasper rushed back from his Booty Pump! class as soon as he could, full of energy and all gussied up in his too-tight Chipped Cup t-shirt, and helped out with the lunch rush.

It was worse than usual. The news that the police were investigating a dead body found at my house had made the rounds, and suddenly a whole load of nosy arseholes decided that they were in the mood for coffee.

And a little gossip on the side.

After the third person had tried to shake me down for some insider details, I snatched a piece of paper from the back, wrote ANYONE ASKING ABOUT DEAD BODIES IS BANNED UNTIL CHRISTMAS on it in big black capital letters, and stuck it to the till.

Worked like a charm.

It got me a couple of confused looks from the few people who obviously hadn’t heard, weren’t on social media, or didn’t read the news, but that wasn’t my problem.

By the time Liam came in, the lunch rush had tailed off somewhat, and Jasper and his tight t-shirt had quadrupled the amount of tips in the coffee cup that sat on the counter beside the till. I’d already had to empty it twice.

When Liam spotted Jasper in the aforementioned tight t-shirt, he did a double take, then gave him a thorough looking-over as he strolled up to the counter.

“Well, hello there, Mr Detective,” Jasper said, cocking a hip and eyeing Liam up just as thoroughly. “Coffee and a doughnut for you?”

Liam’s lips twitched. “Yes, please.”

“I’m thinking of going full time,” Jasper told him as he sashayed over to the bean grinder and flipped it on with a nonchalant air. “I’m so good at this.” The grinder made a choking sound and he slapped it off, shooting me a yikes-face.

“You forgot the beans,” I said, and hip-checked him out of the way to fill the hopper. “Again.”

“Yep. Sorry.”

“I’ll do it. Why don’t you go and empty the dishwasher?”

“Nooo. Let me make him a coffee. Please, Charlie.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m willing to bet you make this man a coffee every damn morning.” I cut Liam an assessing look. “I’m also willing to bet you serve it to him in bed.”

“Of course I do!” Jasper said cheerfully. “It makes sense. I get up way earlier than he does. We only have Nespresso, though. This is the good stuff. Right? Besides, I want to make him a latte.”

“Fine. Go ahead. Try not to burn yourself with the steam wand again, I’m running out of plasters.”

He had three minor steam burns on his wrist, which he pointed out to Liam.

Liam, predictably, reached over the counter and caught his forearm, lifting it up and inspecting the small plasters I’d applied. If there hadn’t been so many people watching, I was convinced that he’d have kissed it better.

As it was, we were all spared the adorable moment, and he settled for telling Jasper to watch what he was doing, and make it two doughnuts. One glazed and one with sprinkles.

With no other customers to serve, I left Jasper to whatever flirty barista/hot cop fantasy he was in the middle of fulfilling, and ducked into the kitchen to see to the dishwasher.

Liam wandered in two minutes later, latte in one hand and a plate with his doughnuts in the other.

“Are you supposed to be eating on the job?” I said, emptying the cutlery basket with a brisk rattle of still-warm metal.

“Yes. It’s encouraged. Glucose is good for cognitive function. That’s just science.”

He leaned against the cabinets and watched me as he worked his way through a doughnut and I worked my way through emptying and reloading the dishwasher. I dropped in a tablet, closed the front with a brisk snap, and started it up.

I turned to face him. “What’s the latest? You’d better not be here to take me in for interrogation. If you are, we’re going out the back. I’ve had about as much gossip as I can stand, thanks.”

“You’re not a suspect. I’d have taken you in straight away if you were.”

“You didn’t take Ray in straight away.”

Liam gave a long-suffering sigh. “I didn’t take Ray in at all, despite how he likes to tell it. And despite Jasper’s libellous articles in the Inquirer , Ray was never a suspect, either.”

“When do I get to go home?”

“Not today.”

“Really? How long can it possibly take? What are you even doing?”

He gave an irritatingly unhelpful shrug and brushed me off. “It takes how long it takes.”

“Great. Can you tell me how many bodies there are? Was Kevin right? Are there four? Are they connected to the bodies found at Ray’s?”

“We’re not releasing information to the general public at this time, since it’s an open investigation.”

“Am I the general public?”

“More or less.”

“Can you at least tell me if they’re all cowboys?”

Liam’s face did something. The expression was there and gone so quickly that I couldn’t quite tell if it was amusement or distaste, or a queasy mix of the two.

It did tell me that they weren’t all cowboys.

“Astronaut?” I guessed. “Firefighter?”

He shook his head.

“Clown?”

He sipped his latte, gazing at me over the rim of the mug.

“Never mind,” I said. “No one knows about the cowboy thing yet, but it doesn’t matter. Everyone’s already decided it’s connected to Ray’s dolls. Word on the street is, this is the same serial killer with a penchant for mummifying people and dressing them up in little outfits.”

“Word on the street?” Liam grinned.

“I mean, it is, isn’t it? Chipping Fairford’s very own serial killer? Ugh. This is going to bring in more tourists. True-crime tourists.”

“Good for business.”

“Financially, yes. I am making bank today. On a personal note, no. Didn’t you see the sign? I’m banning everyone who tries to talk to me about it until Christmas.”

“I assume I’m exempt?”

“Only if you’re asking in a professional capacity. You even hint at it when you’re off duty, and you’re gone.”

He huffed a laugh. “Okay. Here’s the update. All the human remains have been removed from the site and I’ve handed them off to the coroner and pathologist. The forensics team is still at the house but it’s an old and highly compromised disposal site, not an active crime scene, and there’s a limited amount of evidence to collect. When or if I need access for further investigations, I’ll arrange it in the coming weeks. I’m fairly confident you can go home tomorrow.”

“Oh. That’s quicker than I expected. Not that I’m complaining.”

“As I said, there’s limited evidence.”

I stared at him. “No one’s ever going to find the whack job who did this, are they?”

“It’s doubtful. The same lab who investigated the bodies found at Ray’s will investigate the new bodies. They may shed some new light on the case, but realistically? I’m sorry, Charlie, but with the age of the remains, the lack of other evidence, and the fact we already stalled out on the case once, it doesn’t look good. It’s not going to get a lot of attention. It’s a low priority for an already busy and overworked force.”

“Tell that to the papers.”

He grunted.

“That’s it, huh? It’s weirdly anticlimactic. I was worried you were going to start knocking holes in my walls, looking for more. Ripping up floors, digging up the garden. All that stuff. “

“Right.” He shifted. “Glad you brought it up. Uh, your bathroom. Did you know there was a hole in the floor?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Who fell through, and how bad is the damage in the kitchen?”

He laughed. “No one fell through, and the kitchen’s fine. I did get someone to take up the linoleum and have a peek under the boards.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. Considering Ray’s house. Did you find another body?”

“Nope. But you have a serious mould problem. The floorboards have rotted through.”

“Great. That’s just…that’s great. What about the walls? Did you get anyone to have a peek in my walls? Is my house like Swiss cheese?”

“No need. I already covered it off with Kevin.”

I stuck a hand on my hip. “Excuse me?” I said, my voice going high.

Liam’s eyes widened slightly. “Kevin told me that the master bedroom was the only room with a false wall. He’s a professional. He’s already done a survey of the house, and he assured me that every wall he’d checked was solid. I had one of the forensics jog around and do a double-check, and she said the same.”

When had the little shit done his survey, I wondered?

Probably while I was in the bathroom or cooking him a fucking lasagne.

Or when I’d left him sleeping in my bed.

My stomach twisted at the thought that I might never get to see him there again, dark-blond hair tousled against my pillows, sleepy brown eyes on mine when I kissed him goodbye and reminded him to lock up when he left.

He never did give me my key back.

I never did ask.

“You know what,” I said, “I don’t even care anymore. Do whatever you want, I’d really like life to get back to normal, Liam,” I said.

“I’ll do my best.”

I held out an impatient hand for his dirty plate and cup, thanked him, and told him to see himself out.

My mood wasn’t improved when I returned to the front and found Jasper having a standoff with Karen Strickland.

Karen had taught English at Chipping Fairford’s secondary school before she retired a few years ago. She was only in her fifties, and she liked to keep busy with a wide variety of hobbies. One of those hobbies was journalism. She was the part-time intrepid reporter for the Chipping Fairford Inquirer and, until he quit his journalism career after the nearly-sued-by-Ray’s-dad incident, Jasper’s biggest rival.

The antagonism was a one-way thing. She clearly found him endlessly entertaining.

“Hi, Karen,” I said, grabbing a cup. “Usual?”

“Wonderful. Someone who understands the principles of basic customer service. I’d love a cappuccino, thanks, Charlie.”

Jasper vibrated with indignation. “I asked!”

“ What do you want was a bit vague, considering the marked emphasis on the word you. Were you asking to take my order? Were you being rude and demanding to know why I’m in the shop? Are you interested in my hopes and dreams? It was unclear.”

I nudged Jasper out of the way and got to frothing the milk for her cappuccino. “Anything to eat?”

“What’s good today?”

“Pain au chocolat,” I said promptly.

“Mm. I’ll have one of those.” She smiled at Jasper, who I had to shove out of the way again, this time to reach the pastry case. “Done any writing recently?” she asked politely.

“No,” Jasper said, regressing to a sullen teenager before my very eyes. Ah. I remembered it well. He’d been a surly, emo nightmare.

“If you ever get back to it,” Karen said, “I’d be more than happy to take a look at anything you do write.”

For some reason this generous offer made Jasper flush hotly before turning a startling, waxy green. “No,” he managed in a strangled voice. “No. Never . Oh god, no .”

“Redundant,” she said, and lifted a finger. “One no was concise enough.”

I swore I heard his teeth grind.

To me, she said, “Charlie, can you spare me a moment?”

We were both watching Jasper, who was clearly having a moment of his own. He’d gone from hostile to horrified to fuming, and was now quivering with anticipation.

“Of course,” I said. “What can I do for you?”

“I have some questions about the dead body found in your house.”

“ Hah! ” Jasper pointed in triumph at the sign taped to the till. “Banned until Christmas!”

Karen looked at me and arched a brow.

“You’re writing an article?” I asked.

“I am.”

I sighed and tipped my head. “You’d better come around, or it won’t be news to anyone, since all you nosy bastards are listening in.” That last bit I said in a loud voice, aimed at the rapt audience behind us.

“She’s banned!” Jasper tapped the sign urgently. “Charlie. Banned until Christmas.”

“I make the rules,” I said, and waved Karen around the counter. I gestured her ahead of me to the kitchen. “I don’t know what I can tell you.” I leaned against the cabinets where Liam had not long ago. Karen took out a small notepad and flipped it open with practiced panache. “I’m not really allowed to tell you anything.”

“That’s all right. I’ve been following this case since the first bodies were found at Ray Underwood’s. I probably know more than Liam Nash at this point.”

“Really?”

“I’ve worked on it in my free time over the last few years, so yes. I had a hunch more bodies would come to light. I’ve been waiting.”

“ Really?”

She nodded.

I eyed her. “Do you know who did it?”

“I have a few ideas.”

“Care to share?”

She smiled and shook her head.

“If you know so much, what do you need me for?”

“A couple of quotes to sprinkle into the article. People don’t want dry facts, they want a story.”

“All right.”

I gave her what I could . In other words, a whole lot of nothing.

Yes, I was horrified at the discovery.

No, I’d had no idea they were there the whole time.

No, I didn’t know how long they’d been there, who put them there in the first place, if Liam had any suspects, or if any evidence other than the human remains had come to light.

And no, I wouldn’t go so far as to say Kevin had a talent for finding dead bodies. It was more like bad luck, surely?

Karen seemed happy enough with that. Out of the two of us, I was the only one who learned anything. Unlike me, she’d been there to witness the bodies getting stretchered out, and when I asked, she confirmed that there were indeed four.

Once we’d wrapped up, Karen proceeded to drive Jasper almost into a frenzy by sitting at a table all afternoon and writing her article in front of him.

I was pretty sure she was playing solitaire for at least half the time.

Before she was done, Jasper clocked off for the day to go and do his actual job at the gym. He had, I’d discovered, switched classes with one of the other personal trainers so he could work in the coffee shop up to late afternoon. When I found this out, I informed him that he now had blanket permission to come behind the counter and serve himself—or others, if the fancy took him—whenever he wanted. And it was still on the house.

He was thrilled.

Things always got a little crazy just before closing. I was still thinking about giving later opening hours a go, if I could find the right staff. Expanding my business would have to wait for less trying times, however.

I shooed the last few customers out and started to tidy up.

This was the best part of the day.

I was definitely an early bird rather than a night owl, filled with energy when I woke up—once I’d had my first coffee—and more than ready for bed by nine, but I enjoyed the vibe at the end of the day. The shop was warm, the echoes of the friendly, energetic bustle of business were fading, and I got to set everything to rights, ready for it all to begin again tomorrow.

My last customer called out goodbye and I sent him a distracted wave as I went around with a large tray, collecting used cups and plates. I cleared the tables and dropped the tray on the counter, ready to take it back to the kitchen, and diverted to lock up the front first.

If I didn’t, by the time I’d carted everything into the back and grabbed the hoover, someone would have sneaked in to try their luck and attempt to wheedle one last cup out of me.

I flipped the latch, reached out to turn the sign to CLOSED, and someone abruptly flattened themselves against the glass door.

I sprang backwards with a strangled shriek.

Kevin jiggled the handle and knocked urgently.

We locked eyes through the glass. His were wide and wild. My were narrowed and pissed off. I reached out again, and calmly turned the sign to CLOSED.

Kevin’s eyes flicked to it, then back to my face. He shook his head.

I gave a big, exaggerated nod in reply.

“Let me in,” he yelled.

We’d been here before.

We were not playing a cute little game of peekaboo today.

I stuck one finger up in the air—not that one—leaned to the side and pressed the button beside the door for the security shutter.

Now I switched to the other finger.

I held it up high, like a salute, as the shutter clattered down, slats of metal cutting first across Kevin’s face and then his body.

Before the shutter had even reached the floor—I could still see Kevin’s shins and his scuffed boots—my phone started to ring in my back pocket.

I yanked it out.

Big surprise.

It was Kevin.

He’d had all day to respond to my text or return my call, and he hadn’t been in the mood.

Now I wasn’t in the mood.

I hung up, stuck the phone in my back pocket, and ignored it. I made a quick detour to snatch up a crumpled muffin wrapper hiding under one of the tables, grabbed my tray, and stalked into the back.

I remembered too late how things had gone last time we did this dance. I dropped the tray abruptly onto the counter and lunged to lock the back, but it popped open before I got there and Kevin strode in.

“Kevin,” I said before he could even start, “we can talk tomorrow but it’s been a long day and I am not in the mood. Can you please— oh my god. ”

He walked right up to me, his hands framed my face, his lips hit mine, and he kissed me like the world was ending.

“Kevin,” I gasped, grabbing his shoulders. “What the?—”

He growled against my mouth and bit at my bottom lip. “Let. Me. In.”

“Can you just?—”

He gripped my jaw and pressed against my chin with his thumb, tilting his head as he did it, lips sliding over mine, demanding entry. Goosebumps rushed over me from scalp to toes and I gasped again. The second I did, he drove his tongue inside with an aching moan.

My knees weakened and he dragged me tight against his body, hooking an arm around my waist and digging possessive fingers into my arse cheek.

He lifted away to stare down at me, breathing hard. His pupils were blown and his eyes had that intense focus that made me almost— almost —nervous. His body was hard against mine, muscles hot and pumped. Presumably he’d just come from the gym. It hadn’t done much to burn off whatever this was. He grunted something again and lowered his head for another kiss.

I twitched away. “Wait. We have to talk. I?—”

His big arms locked around me and he lifted me off my feet. Not by much. An inch or so. Enough to cross the room and press me up against the nearest cabinet. I was completely pinned.

And loving it, frankly.

“Charlie,” he said into my mouth. “Charlie. I want you so much.”

I could tell. He was hard and throbbing against me, rocking into me restlessly.

I cupped his cheeks and pulled back, looking up into his face. His skin was hot and smooth against my palms, his eyes stormy, his body agitated. “You have me,” I said. “It’s all right.” I’d never seen him this wound up.

“It’s not,” he said, and caught my mouth with his. “It’s not.”

He wasn’t rocking into me anymore. Nothing that subtle. He was out and out humping me. He ran a hand down my side and gripped my thigh, then hauled it up and tried to hitch it around his hip. He fidgeted against me a couple of times, snarled with frustration, and took me down to the floor.

“Kevin!” I managed to get out before he dropped on top of me.

Okay.

Now I was pinned.

Still loving it.

I was not, however, loving the desperation rolling off him.

He wedged himself between my thighs, getting a knee between mine and sliding it to one side. He ground against me, flexing his hips.

I whined into his mouth at the friction over my cock.

“Yeah,” he muttered against my lips. “Like that.” He shoved a hand between us and gave me a slow, sensual rub that had my neck arching and my fingers tightening in his hair as I held him to me.

He worked my length through my trousers a couple of times and got us lined up. He continued to roll his hips, as wildly as he was kissing me.

Fuck it. I grabbed at his back, his pumping arse, his sides.

This now.

Talk later.

I had one thigh up around his hip and the other foot on the floor, giving me leverage to flex back into his powerful thrusts, and was just about losing my mind when I heard a polite cough.

I froze.

That wasn’t Kevin.

“Charlie,” Kevin growled. At some point he’d broken away from kissing me—probably so we could both catch our breath—and had got distracted with sucking on my neck instead, nipping and kissing at my skin. He bit lightly then sucked hard.

I moaned.

Someone coughed again, and said, “Knock, knock,” accompanying it with a light rap of knuckles on the counter above where Kevin and I were humping on the floor.

Kevin and I were humping on the floor.

I went cold with horror and turned my head. My gaze landed on a pair of black motorcycle boots, tracked up long, jeans-clad legs, up over a plain navy t-shirt and finally, perhaps inevitably, hit Adam Blake’s amused hazel eyes.

“Hi?” he said with a questioning lilt.

Kevin lifted up to a plank over me before pushing up to his feet in one smooth, rippling move.

“What’s up, Kevin?” Adam said.

Kevin’s boots were planted either side of my hips, snugged in tight to my body and making it impossible for me to turn and get to my hands and knees. I crunched up to sitting instead, and came nose-to-zipper with his groin. His hand landed possessively on my head but he did not move backwards and give me room to stand like a normal person would.

“Oh my god, Kevin.” I slapped at his thigh. “Move.”

He didn’t move. He gazed down at me and his fingers in my hair tightened. He tugged gently. Just enough to draw my head back a critical inch.

“Right in front of me, huh?” Adam said. “Okay.”

I flailed. “Kevin.”

He let go of my hair but he continued to straddle me like a weirdo.

I was sorely tempted to slap him in the balls but couldn’t see that improving matters. I settled for flopping back to the floor and crab-walking out from under him instead.

By the time I’d scrambled my way up to standing, I was red-faced and fuming.

I aimed my glare at Kevin, then at Adam, then back to Kevin.

Adam continued to be amused. Kevin…

I had no idea what was going on with Kevin.

“You.” I pointed at Adam. “Give us a minute.” I pointed at Kevin. “You, come with me. We need to talk.”

Kevin’s breathing was short and loud as he shifted from one foot to the other.

“Come on,” I said, and led the way to the main shop, for a little privacy. I turned on my heel, all ready to ask what his deal was, only he wasn’t there.

I stalked back into the kitchen.

Adam was leaning against the sink, hands in his pockets. He tipped his head at the door. “Kevin left.”

“He left ?”

“Don’t think he was feeling chatty.”

I scowled.

That seemed to be the problem, didn’t it?

Yes, I could admit to myself that I’d had a momentary wobble with regards to our relationship status, and I wasn’t going to beat myself up about it. It was perfectly understandable. I was brand new to this, after all.

The issue clearly wasn’t whether or not he still wanted me, or was the sex worth the apparent risk of unexpected dead bodies that came along with dating me.

If Adam hadn’t shown up when he did, I was in no doubt whatsoever that we’d have had full-on sex right then and there.

The issue, I’d realised, seemed to be that Kevin didn’t want to talk to me. Or give me a second to talk to him. There was only one reason I could think of.

“He thinks I’m going to dump him,” I said to Adam.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would I?”

Adam shrugged. “He kind of fucked up your house.”

I blinked. “No he didn’t. He’s been fixing it. He’s been pushy about it, too. My god. He’s done my cabinets. He bought me a new front door.” I smiled fondly. “Who does that? Buys someone a door? Most people settle for flowers. Not my Kevin. He’s got a project binder. I mean…I have to actively restrain him from fixing things.”

“Right,” Adam said. “And when you gave in and really let him at it, what happened?”

“He found four human dolls in my bedroom wall,” I said. “Huh. Okay. I suppose that could make a guy feel on shaky ground.”

“ Four? ” Adam said, his eyes widening.

“Oops.”

“ Four? ”

He’d find that out from Karen’s article in the paper tomorrow, anyway. I sighed. ”Do you still get people trying to interview you and Ray about the ones in your house?”

“No, it all died down.” He pulled a face. “It’s probably going to start up again, isn’t it? Ah, well. I’ll send them all your way.”

“Don’t you dare.”

He grinned. “Ray and Phil are going to be wondering where we are. Ready to go?”

“Almost.”

Adam helped me finish closing up and we headed out to the tiny carpark behind the shop.

I got into Ray’s car, buckled my seatbelt, and sat in silence while Adam waited at the exit for a break in traffic.

“Adam?” I said.

“Yeah?” He was concentrating on the road. Even though there weren’t many cars at this time on a Sunday evening, it was still a nasty turn to make.

I hated that I even had to ask him this, but, “Do you know where Kevin lives?”

Kevin had mentioned his flat, I was vaguely aware it was in town somewhere, but…wow. I hadn’t ever been.

I was a shit boyfriend.

“He rents the flat over the florist. Same one Jasper used to rent.”

In that case, I had been. Just not while Kevin was there. “I think it’s time I paid him a little visit,” I said.

Adam smiled. A gap in traffic came up. He let it pass. “You’re going to track him down in his lair, are you?”

“He’s been ignoring my calls and texts. He bolted at the first hint of a conversation. I don’t know how long he thinks he’s going to be able to keep it up while still dating me or what he’s trying to accomplish, but I’m a proactive kind of guy and I’d like to straighten him out.”

Adam cracked a laugh.

“Right. Ha ha. Very funny. Worst way to phrase it.”

He drove two streets over to the rear of the florist’s and let me out. He rolled down his window. “Want me to hang around?”

“No, thanks. If he’s not here, I’ll wait for him. If he takes too long and I get bored, I’ll call a taxi.”

He tutted. “Call me , Charlie.”

“I’ll call you,” I said distractedly, and headed for the door at the back of the building.

Adam beeped as he drove off.

I waved at him, and rang the buzzer.