Always Room for Cupcakes (2 page)

It made all the difference. Sometime I had to get creative, but,
knock on wood
, I always got the shot … even if it was sometimes grainy.

Taking pictures of people in the act is actually easier than you might think. People are stupid. Especially the ones who think they’re untouchable, they’ll never get caught, and that their shit don’t stink.

I eased out of the van, looking around the mostly empty parking lot as I walked casually toward the door they’d entered. I even started whistling, just to make myself more conspicuous.

Hiding in plain sight actually worked.

“Thanks for leaving the curtains cracked,” I murmured as I slid up to the window, camera up and ready, and peeked inside.

Unfortunately for me, but fortunately for my pocketbook, they’d left the lights blaring and must have done some heavy petting in the car, because they were already going at it.

“Sixty-nine …
classic
.”

I snapped quickly, making sure their faces were in frame as I captured each lick, suck, slobber, and moan.

“
Gross
,” I grumbled as I hurried back to my car.

One of the downsides of the job was that it sometimes took hours to get the sordid visions out of my head. On occasions like these, there was one thing that helped ease my pain.

I needed a cupcake.

“You’re a genius,” I moaned as the chocolaty goodness hit my tongue.

Amy May was on the other side of the counter pouring me a steaming cup of coffee as I made love to one of her cupcakes from a cherry-red stool on the other side.

Amy May was a Midwestern girl who’d married her high school sweetheart, Jason, and traveled with him when he joined the military. She’d always had a love of sweets, and had picked the brains of bakers all over the world. Amy May had fused everything she loved into one kick-ass idea and opened her bakery on Main Street. Even if she didn’t own the only bakery in town, her diner-inspired motif coupled with her assortment of French, Italian, and Polish pastries, and sinfully delicious cupcakes, would have made her the town treasure she is.

“Rough morning?”

“You have no idea,” I said with an eye roll, popping the last bit of cake in my mouth. “I’ll spare you the gory details.”

“What else you got on tap today?” she asked, pulling her shoulder-length, dirty-blonde hair back into a small tail at the nape of her neck.

“Headed to the library to shoot these pics over to Moose, then see if I can get a line on this chick who’s been supposedly working for Clarice’s Nail Salon. The husband says no money ever comes in … Should be pretty low-key.”

“Kids with you?”

“Yeah. They don’t go to
The Douche’s
until Friday this week.”

“You wanna come over for dinner?”

“Nah, it’s burger night at Casa Horton, but I’ll take a rain check.”

“Sounds good, babe, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I replied, standing up and picking up my trash. I’d tried to pay my bill when Amy May’s had first opened, only to be told I got the best friend discount for life.

It’s a good thing I’d found exercise, or my ass would be the size of a house. As it is, it’s only about the size of a singlewide.

“Thanks, girl.”

Amy May gave me a little wave, then blew me a kiss and I was gone.

Rather than drive twenty minutes to my place in The Heights, I usually worked out of the Greenswood Public Library. It was only a couple blocks from Amy May’s and was a nice quiet place to do what I needed to do.

“Hey, Clare,” I called, keeping my voice loud enough for her to hear the greeting, but low enough so she wouldn’t shush me.

Clare had been working the desk at the library since the first time I’d stepped foot in it to check out Shel Silverstein’s
Where the Sidewalk Ends
. I’d been eight and could have sworn Clare was a hundred.

She still looked exactly the same.

I wandered through the aisles, back to the workstation I’d claimed as my own, and logged in. After sending Moose the pictures, I checked my email, then signed off.

Moose’s “office” was actually his screened-in back porch, so I tried to keep all of our communication over the phone and through email, only going to his place if it was absolutely necessary. Not to say that I didn’t feel safe around my boss or anything; he was just a little creepy, so I felt better with things this way.

Moose shot me a text saying he got the photos and that he’d just driven by the nail salon and saw our next perp’s car.

Now, I’m not a cop, and the clients aren’t always correct in their accusations, but still, I had to call the people we were spying on
something
, so I called them perps. I sure as shit wasn’t going to remember all of their names so
perp
was just easier. Plus, I thought it made my job sound cooler, like I was actually doing something that made a difference.

Anyway, after reading the text, I turned on my heel and headed down the street toward Clarice’s, wishing I’d worn sneakers instead of my boots today. I’d gone for style rather than comfort, which was never the smart choice. The boots paired with my skinny jeans and long pullover sweater looked much better than sneakers.

“Hey, Lila,” Clarice said in greeting when I walked inside.

“What’s up, Clarice?”

“Same shit different day.”

“I hear that,” I replied. See, although my town was small, I’d managed to keep a lid on my side job. The town loved to talk, and with the way I’d caught my husband and Slutty Shirley Finkle, promptly left my cushy home in The Woods for a shitty apartment in The Heights, then started working for my best friend, they had plenty to talk about when the subject of me came up.

This was good for me, and for Moose, because it meant people never suspected when I was around, that there was a possibility I was looking into them. I didn’t know how long that shit would last, but I’d been lucky so far … No one really suspects a single mother of twins who drives a minivan and has an ongoing love affair with cupcakes to be sneaking around and capturing their bad deeds on camera.

I looked around the salon, and, not seeing the perp, I walked up to Clarice and whispered, “Can I use your bathroom? Sorry to bust in, since I don’t have an appointment, but I think I just started my period.”

“Yeah, girl, of course.”

“Thanks,” I said sheepishly, then pushed through the curtain into the back room.

I tiptoed quietly, pulling my camera out of my oversized Coach purse, one of the few things left over from my previous life. Keeping my eyes peeled and my ears open, I searched the back.

A sniffling sound had me turning right. I peeked around the corner just in time to see my perp bending over a table, getting ready to snort the three lines of coke she had cut out.

I’d spent an entire day trying out different cameras until I’d finally found one that didn’t make a sound when a picture was taken and still came out with quality images. That meant I could lift my camera, get my shot, and be gone without the cokehead even realizing I’d been there.

After I got a couple shots, I decided it was best to sneak out the back, rather than show my face in the storefront again, I slowly pushed the back door open and eased out.

“
Who the fuck are you
?”

I whipped my head up as I was shoving the camera back in my purse, and saw a strange man standing by a rehabbed old Camaro, smoking a cigarette.

“Uh … a friend of Clarice’s. I was just using the bathroom,” I managed, not sure who the guy was, or what my next move should be.

“Yeah?” he asked, throwing his cigarette to the ground and taking a step toward me. “You need a camera to do that?”

Shit.

Before he could make another move, I secured my bag on my shoulder, turned and took off like a shot.

I hit Main Street, cursing myself for wearing the damn boots when the sound of a motorcycle pulling up along side of me caused me to turn my head.

My first thought was,
where the hell did the bike come from?

Then I realized it wasn’t the slimy guy from behind the salon. The bike came to a stop and the most dangerously beautiful man I’d ever seen rumbled, “Get your sweet ass on the bike.”

Huh?

I stood there for a moment, wondering what in the hell was happening, if I should get on this strange man’s bike, and if I was offended or flattered by his
sweet ass
comment.

“
Darlin’
,” he prodded.

I turned my head to look behind me, and saw the slimy guy standing at the side of Clarice’s, and made a quick decision to accept … his offer of a ride, and the compliment. So, I swung my leg up and over the bike, settled my front to his back, and curled my arms around the thick bulk of his muscled body.

Tingling head to toe from the adrenaline, and the close contact with a seriously hot man, I couldn’t stop my lips from spreading into a grin as we took off down Main Street.

As we came to a stop at a park outside of town, I was subtly inhaling the scent of leather and spice and wondering how the hell I’d ended up here. Funnily enough, I wasn’t scared; I didn’t feel a vibe that said he intended to hurt me in any way. Mostly I was curious, and, if I was honest, a little turned on.

Once the bike came to a complete stop, I reluctantly got off, but had to keep one hand on the seat while my legs stopped shaking.

“Uh … thanks,” I mumbled as he kicked the stand down and turned his dark eyes to me.

Are they black? Is it even possible to have black eyes?

Everything about him was dark. His eyes, his hair, his deeply tanned skin. He wore a trimmed beard, which only added to his dangerous look, and had what looked like shoulder-length wavy hair, which was pulled back off of his face. Paired with motorcycle boots, jeans that fit like a glove, and a black leather jacket, the man was a billboard for raw male sexuality.

“Anytime, darlin’,” he said with a small smirky smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

“Huh?” I asked, apparently having lost my ability to speak in actual words.

“I’ve seen you around, on the job, so I’ve kept my eye out.”

Crap!
Did he mean he knew I was spying on people? I guess I wasn’t as covert as I thought I was.

“
Shit!”
I muttered, then wondered how the hell he’d seen me, when I’d never seen him before in my life.

“Don’t worry, your cover’s still good. I’ve only seen you, ‘cause I’ve been looking.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. I saw you a couple weeks ago, walking down Main, and I gotta say, one look and I knew I wanted to see more … So I’ve been paying attention. Those assholes you follow are more worried about getting into whatever trouble they can find, than paying attention to some hot mom in her soccer van. You gotta be careful though, darlin’, a light as bright as yours won’t be hidden for long.”

“You saw me a couple weeks ago?” I asked, still stuck on that, not yet ready to think about my bright light.

He nodded. “Then again at the motel on sixth, in the parking lot of the Applebee’s, and going into the bakery with your kids. Gotta say, that last time, you were walking and laughing with your kids, your blue eyes hit me as you were going inside, and I
knew
… I’ve been waiting for an opportunity. Got one today.”

I was wearing shades, so his description of my eyes meant he had, in fact, seen me before, but as I looked him over I didn’t know how that was possible.

“I don’t remember you, and
I
gotta say, I think I’d remember.”

That earned me a grin as he replied, “You were out with your kids, so you weren’t paying attention. I was.”

Hmmmm.

“What’s your name?” I asked, finally getting to what probably should have been the first thing out of my mouth.

“Cade.”

“I’m Lila,” I said, lamely holding out my hand.

“Delilah Horton,” he said, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips, and I could have sworn I felt the brush of his facial hair all over my skin.

“You want my job?” I half joked, surprised that he knew my name. I wondered how a man like him could have been looking into me and I’d had no idea.