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When she emerged from the bedroom, she discovered Conrad had a delightful cinnamon sugar French toast breakfast prepared. “You are the most amazing man in the whole world,” she exclaimed.
“No, I’m a man who’s addicted to seeing this exact look on your face.”
Their gazes met, and they shared a tender moment. He’d showered and changed, too, and oh, he looked good. He wore a fitted collared dress shirt with the town’s insignia stitched onto the pocket along with his name. And because he knew she loved it, he hadn’t shaved. A thicker than usual shadow dusted his strong jaw. Newly retired ex-Sheriff Moore would be scandalized.
The doorbell rang, and Conrad’s features turned sheepish. “I’ve got to head to the office for interviews, so I ate before you came out.” He pressed a gentle kiss into her lips. “As my consultant, you are legally required to keep me updated. Tell me everything you learn.” He gave her a second kiss, then strode off to answer the door on his way out.
Going to work was totally normal, so why the sheepish look?
Beau entered the kitchen a few seconds later. Ahh, that explained it. Conrad had rustled up a watchdog for her to “help” with the case. Sporting khakis, rugged work boots and his signature Peach State Security polo shirt, her best friend made her feel safe and unalone. They hugged tighter than usual.
“You feeling better today?” he asked.
“Of course.” She pulled from his embrace and pretended to knock on her temple. “I’m hardheaded.”
“Yeah, but not indestructible.”
“Well, not even death could prevent me from solving this murder.”
“It’s too soon for talk of you dying.” He booed to emphasize his point and even flashed a thumbs down sign.
Making a face, she waved to the counter. “Have a seat and eat up. You know you love Conrad’s cinnamon sugar French toast as much as I do. You can entertain me as I bake a chocolate lava cake.” Puttering around in the kitchen always fine-tuned her murder-solving skills.
“Chocolate lava cake?” Beau’s green eyes glazed over. “I want that.”
“Nope. That particular treat is for Christopher.”
He lifted a brow. “As in your ex-boyfriend Christopher Wellington? That Christopher?”
“As in the first responder who got me to safety and deserves a thank you.”
“So you’re telling me Conrad is good with you baking a sweet treat for another man? And in his kitchen, no less?”
Jane rolled her eyes, only to pause as a thought occurred to her. How strange. She’d come to think of this as her kitchen. Actually, their kitchen. “Why would he care? I bake for you, Trick, Holden and Isaac. But why do you care?”
“Mr. Fireman hurt you.” Beau plopped a bite of cinnamon toast into his mouth and closed his eyes for a moment, his upset forgotten.
“It was a long time ago,” she assured him. “I’m over it. And he might have spotted the killer fleeing the scene without realizing it. I’ve found baked goods have a way of making people remember lost details.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Give your readers as much information as possible. Who doesn’t want to read an in-depth analysis of made-up technology?
Y’all Write Now–Advice for New Writers
by Tabby Paynes-Murksand
Using the ingredients Conrad had on hand, Jane whipped up a super easy decadent chocolate lava cake, then tidied up her appearance. Though she’d hated ditching the comfort of Conrad’s shirt and those yoga pants, she exchanged the garments for an ivory silk blouse with subtle darts and a relaxed knee-length pencil skirt in black. A sophisticated look sure to let Christopher know she was a professional investigator who meant business. For the sake of her healing head wound, she forwent a hat. Boo, hiss.
With Beau at the wheel of his truck, they made the ten-minute drive in twelve, arguing about the dessert the entire way. He parked in front of Aurelian Hills Fire Station Number 2, and they exited the vehicle, still arguing. Jane carried the cake. A clear lid provided a glimpse of the sweet delight within, while a latch and two handles allowed for sturdier transportation. She kept an eye out for Cartier.
“Just one taste,” Beau said as he held open the door for her. “The firefighters won’t care.”
She soared inside. “I won’t feed your addiction to my desserts while you’re on duty. You’ll lose focus and only want more.”
“You can’t know that for sure until you give me a taste.” He entered behind her.
“The only thing you’re going to taste is a knuckle sandwich.”
