Read Dying for a Cupcake Online
Authors: Denise Swanson
Lee exchanged a sympathetic glance with me, then put the Fiat in gear and pulled into the street. As I hurried into the dime store, I checked my watch. I had less than two hours to determine if we needed an alternative location for the first round of judging and, if we did, to find a place that could accommodate the event.
Having sent Hannah and my father home with
instructions to return for the store’s evening hours, I now stood alone in the middle of the sales floor. Firefighters had been hurrying past me for the last twenty minutes, and the last of the crew clomped out the front door without acknowledging me. Did that mean they were finished with my shop? I looked around. Everything seemed about the same as when the smoke detector went off and we cleared the place. Were they still inspecting the second-floor space?
“Yoo-hoo! Anyone around?” I called up the stairwell. “I need to talk to someone.” I put my hand on the railing. “Are you all done up there?” I raised my voice. “May I speak to whoever is in charge?”
Nothing.
“Hello!” I started to slowly climb steps, then nearly fell backward when a massive figure loomed at the top of the landing.
Thank goodness, my common sense took over before I screamed like a five-year-old. Mentally smacking myself, I took a deep steadying breath. The guy was decked out in a bright yellow coat, trousers, and helmet. He was obviously one of the firefighters rather than the mad arsonist that my fevered imagination had immediately feared.
He raised his visor and said, “We meet again.”
Wowie! Even all dirty and sweaty, or maybe because of that, this guy was a hunk. Trying to regain some of my cool, I asked, “Were you the first firefighter on the scene? The one who called the ambulance?”
“Yep.” His frown was teasing. “Guess I didn’t make that much of an impression on you.”
“Sorry. You all sort of look the same in that getup of yours,” I explained.
“Well, let me take off my turnout gear so you recognize me next time.”
As he descended the stairs, I hastily backed up, then remembering my manners, asked, “Would you like a bottle of water?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” He grinned. “Let me slip into something more comfortable and I’ll tell you about your fire.”
“Great,” I echoed. It was ironic that such a hot guy put out fires for a living. My guess was that he lit a lot of women’s flames and dousing those blazes involved a hose different from the one on his truck.
W
hile I waited for the firefighter to return, I went behind the soda fountain to pour myself a cup of coffee. Miraculously, no one had turned off the pot. I had just taken my first sip and nearly choked when, as if by magic, Chief Kincaid appeared in front of me. That man was quieter than my grandmother’s cat, Banshee. And nearly as intimidating as the Siamese who enjoyed dive-bombing my head whenever I got close enough to his kitty condo for him to pounce.
The chief had questioned me earlier while I was sitting on the bench outside, but now he informed me that his crime scene techs were currently processing the second floor, and until they were finished, that area was off-limits. When pressed, he grudgingly admitted that the techs would
probably
be done by late afternoon, but he refused to name a specific time.
As he hurried away to track down Kizzy, I walked over to the front counter and retrieved my cell phone from the shelf underneath the register, where I had carelessly left it before the fire. As I was dialing Poppy’s number, it suddenly dawned on me that the chief didn’t know that the cupcake queen had nixed the
EMTs’ original plan to transport her to the hospital. If I’d remembered, I could have told him she would be at Noah’s clinic, but I’d been so rattled at his declaration that my upstairs was going to be unavailable for the next several hours, I’d forgotten.
Because Winnie’s cooking school was too small to accommodate observers, the Dessert Channel had agreed to provide a live feed, and Kizzy’s company had outfitted Gossip Central with several large plasma screens so the Cupcake Weekenders could watch as the finalists whipped up their entries. With most of the audience already at Poppy’s bar, I suggested that we move the cupcake exhibition to her place. She agreed to set up the Hayloft for the presentation but stipulated that I had to get the displays over to her by two. Now all I had to do was figure out how to sweet-talk someone into releasing the stands to me in time.
I chewed my thumbnail. How was I going to do that? None of the police officers were particular friends of mine, and unfortunately, no one on the force owed me a favor. I needed another option, but my mind was a blank. Then, as if a sign from heaven that a hero was coming to my rescue, the sleigh bells above the store’s entrance jingled. Maybe the cute firefighter walking toward me would be my knight in shining running shorts and white T-shirt.
Allowing myself a couple of long seconds to admire the powerful physique that his abbreviated outfit revealed, I almost drooled at his broad shoulders, well-developed arms, and muscular thighs. Then I reminded myself of the two handsome men already creating confusion in my life and forced myself to look away. But not before I took one more tiny peek at his massive chest.
Finally, getting my hormones under control, I asked,
“Would you like to sit here or would you prefer to talk in the back room at my desk?”
“Here’s fine.” He swung a leg over the stool and sat down. “Sorry about the clothes. They’re the only ones I had in my unit.”
“Not a problem,” I assured him, then realized that I had seen the fire truck leave. “You didn’t come over with the others?”
“No. I drove my own vehicle.” The firefighter held out his hand. “I’m Chief Cooper McCall. But my friends call me Coop.”
“I’m Devereaux Sinclair and my friends call me Dev,” I said. “So you’re the new fire chief. The one they hired when Augustus Leary retired.”
“Right. I started a month ago.” Coop took the water bottle I silently held out to him. “Since the department is mostly volunteers, the city council hired me to take over when he left. I’ve only been on the job a couple of weeks.”
“Are you a native Shadow Bender?” I asked. I was pretty sure he wasn’t since we were roughly the same age and I, like any other woman who set eyes on him, would have remembered him if we’d been in school together. “Or did you move here for the job?”
“I’m originally from a small town in Georgia, but I joined the marines right out of high school, which is where I got my fire protection training.” He took a long swig of water, finishing half the bottle in one gulp, then said, “I’ve been working in Kansas City since I got out of the service.”
“I worked in Kansas City for years before buying the dime store.” I took a sip of coffee. “But I’ve always lived in Shadow Bend.”
“That had to be an awful commute.” A sprinkle of gold dust sparkled in Coop’s warm brown eyes, and he
added, “Part of the condition of my employment was living inside the Shadow Bend city limits, which evidently put off some of the job candidates. But I would have moved here anyway. An hour or more on the highway each way every day is not my idea of a good time.”
“I doubt anyone enjoys it. At least no one without a helicopter or a Maserati.” I toyed with the teaspoon, hating to end our pleasant conversation. Still, knowing that time was ticking by and I had a lot to do before the cupcake exhibition at three o’clock, I asked. “So, is my second floor structurally okay?”
“Yes. There was no evidence of any additional fires.” Coop instantly became serious and the sharp planes that appeared in his face made me wondered if there was a touch of Native American blood in his pedigree. “The only damage is to the floor of the small office and you can just throw a rug over the scorch marks.”
“Tell me about the fire.” I breathed a sigh of relief at his news.
“Unless the injured woman was trying to roast marshmallows and then accidentally hit herself over the head with that trophy, it’s pretty safe to say it was arson.” Coop grinned, his sexy mouth and firm jaw sending a tingle of appreciation to my girl parts.
“Well, by my count this is the third attempt on Kizzy’s life, so I’m going to go with rejecting the bonfire theory.” I grinned back.
“No shit!” Coop’s slight Southern drawl that had been delighting my ear grew more pronounced. “She did seem a touch contrary—someone who made you itch to take her out behind the barn and show her what for and how to—but what in the holy hell did she do to piss off a person that much?”
“That’s exactly what someone needs to figure out
pretty damn soon.” I rinsed out my empty coffee cup and put it on the rack to dry, then came out from behind the soda fountain counter. “Otherwise this whole Cupcake Weekend extravaganza is going to fall faster and flatter than a soufflé in a cold breeze.”
“Yep.” Coop nodded. “You all need to put a blanket on that horse so no one can see it’s ugly.”
“Right.” I grinned, enjoying his way of talking.
“A day-tripper who thinks there might be a murderer running loose is bound to be about as calm as a hog on ice,” Coop added.
It took me a second to translate, but then I snickered at the picture of Porky sliding across a frozen pond and said, “Precisely.”
“Too bad, you all have no more chance than a kerosene cat in hell with gasoline drawers on of keeping an attempted murder quiet.”
After another pause to interpret Coop’s quaint colloquialisms, I agreed with his estimation, and then I asked, “So, is the fire department finished?” It was time to get back to the matter at hand—opening my business back up. “Chief Kincaid said he was sending his crime scene techs over to process my second floor, but I thought you guys were in charge of arson investigations.”
“Kincaid is reluctantly sharing jurisdiction on this case.” Coop stood and was suddenly so close to me I could feel the heat from his body.
“Oh.” I nodded stupidly. When had Coop moved? “Chief Kincaid can be a bit of a control freak, but then, who am I to talk?”
“I find intense women mighty fetchin’.” Coop’s smile was suggestive. “They seem more passionate about everything they do.”
“Really?” I wasn’t sure I liked the suggestive tone of
his voice . . . but then again, I wasn’t sure that I didn’t. “I don’t know if that’s true. Most people find me somewhat aloof, even coldhearted.”
“Maybe those folks don’t look far enough beneath the surface.” Coop pushed a loose curl behind my ear and raised an eyebrow.
“Perhaps.” I stepped out of his reach. His strong callused fingers had sent a thrill through my body, and even though he radiated a vitality that drew me like a duck to bread crumbs, I knew I had to put a stop to the electricity flickering between us. “But on the other hand, there may not be anything underneath but more ice.”
“It would be mighty fun to find out.” Coop leaned an impressive shoulder against a shelving unit and crossed his arms. “Are you married?”
I shook my head.
“Engaged?”
“No.”
“In a committed relationship with one guy?” His smile had grown wider with each question and answer, until now he was beaming.
“Uh . . .” I stuttered, searching for a way to describe my love life that didn’t make me sound either a complete ditz or the worst kind of slut. “Sort of.”
“How can the answer be sort of?” Coop straightened and narrowed his eyes. “If it’s not a definite yes, then you aren’t.”
How to explain the situation with Noah and Jake? I pondered the problem, then said, “It’s complicated. My whole existence is complicated.” I sensed that I was blushing, something I rarely did, and it made me feel like a ten-year-old with her first crush. “Believe me; you don’t want to get into the middle of my messy life.”
“I’m partial to complicated.” Coop peered at me intently. “Keeps things interesting.” He shrugged. “After all, no one calls nine-one-one if they’re having a good day. Most firefighters are adrenaline junkies, so we don’t do well with predictable or simple. I find it’s best not to let myself get bored.”
Having no rejoinder to that, I decided it was time to change the subject. Turning my back to him, I pretended to be unaffected by his teasing tone, but I couldn’t help myself from noticing the tingle of excitement his words had ignited. Why was it that opportunity only knocked once, but temptation repeatedly used a battering ram? I rearranged some merchandise until I had myself under control.
Finally, clearing my throat, I said, “Be that as it may”—
Shit!
I sounded like an uptight spinster—“there’s a cupcake contest to deal with, and within the hour I have to get those two display units currently sitting in the large room upstairs over to Gossip Central or I’ll be in big trouble.” I walked away from where Coop stood. “Chief Kincaid said he won’t release the second floor until late this afternoon, which leaves me with a problem that I need to concentrate on.”
“Maybe I can help you with that,” Coop said. “As I stated earlier, this is a joint investigation and Kincaid doesn’t have the last word.”
“That would be wonderful.” Before I even turned around, I knew Coop was behind me. His scent tugged at some primitive female response deep inside me. “But I don’t like being in anyone’s debt.”
“I’m sure I could think of something that would even the score.” Coop’s expression was innocent and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Do you sew? I need some patches put on my duty shirts.”
“Sorry.” My feeble attempt to construct an apron in
home ec class popped into my head and I winced. “I’m all thumbs with a needle and thread.”
“Hmm.” He moved a little closer. “How about baking? I sure do miss my mama’s made-from-scratch brown sugar pound cake with rum glaze.”
“I’m sure my grandmother could whip that up for you, but baking isn’t my thing.” I pondered what I could offer him that didn’t include me getting naked and horizontal. Wait a minute! Where had that thought come from? I’d only met the guy a few hours ago.
“Then you’d be in your grandma’s debt.” Coop shook his head. “So, what are you good at? I’m sure you have a talent that I’d like.”
“I doubt you need your books balanced or the perfect gift basket.” I watched him closely. I did need his help, so I had to figure out something I could give him in exchange for riling up Chief Kincaid. “How about some investment advice?”
“Nope.” Coop frowned. “If I want to gamble, I’ll put my money on a sweet little filly in the fifth race at Hialeah.”
“Then I’m stumped.” My shoulders sagged. I really needed his help.
“You said you don’t bake.” Coop’s eyes brightened. “Do you cook?”
“I make a mean lasagna dinner,” I admitted. My other specialty was eggs Benedict, but that smacked of breakfast and I wasn’t going there.
“Homemade marinara sauce?” Coop asked, his expression hopeful.
“Yes, sir.” I sketched a mock salute. “Caesar salad and garlic bread, too.”
“I’ve been hankering for a meal that didn’t come out of the freezer or a cardboard box or from a local carryout joint.” Coop licked his lips. “How about I get
you those cupcake displays and you promise to come to my place and make me an Italian feast? Chianti’s on me.”
“I thought firehouses had good cooks.” I raised a skeptical brow. “Aren’t you getting homemade food at work?”
“When I’m on duty, yes,” Coop admitted. “I’m talking about when I’m on my own.” He crossed his arms. “So, do we have a deal or not?”
I wrenched my attention from my ridiculous preoccupation with his handsome face—he was too attractive by far—and I stuck out my hand. “Deal.”
Instead of shaking, Coop leaned forward, planted a soft kiss on my cheek, then walked toward the stairs, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll go get those cupcake stands. I think they’ll fit in the back of my unit so I can run them over to Gossip Central for you.”
“You don’t have to do that. Getting them released from the crime scene is enough,” I protested, but remembered that when I realized that we wouldn’t be reopening the store until evening, I’d sent Hannah and Dad home. By the time I reached my father and asked him to come back with his Grand Cherokee, it might be too late. Which meant I had no other way of getting the displays over to Poppy’s place. “But it’s really sweet of you to offer.”
“No problem.” Coop turned and his hot chocolate gaze met mine. “I look forward to collecting my payment.”
My heart turned over in response and I realized I was smiling. I wiped the idiotic grin from my face and said, “Let me know when you want your lasagna dinner and Sinclair Catering Service will be there.”
“How about Monday night?” He winked. “All the cupcake people will be gone and we can relax.”