“Never mind. I just wanted to ask you, well…” He trails off.
“What?” I snap at him. “You think I did it? You think I killed Taylor Grace?”
“No, that’s not—I was going to ask you if you were okay staying with me tonight in the carriage house.”
I immediately feel bad for being mean.
This is why you’re alone…
“So,” I whisper, “you don’t think I’m a murderer?”
“Even if you are,” he whispers, “I still want to kiss you. I wanted to kiss you last night.”
“Do you think an overnight is a little too soon? We haven’t even held hands yet.”
He leans in, lacing his fingers with mine. “I think we can fix that.”
And then he does—slowly at first, tentatively, like we’re testing the edges of something dangerous. His hand finds my jaw, thumb tracing along my cheek, anchoring me in the quiet chaos of the moment. For one suspended second, the world narrows to the heat of his mouth and the wild hammering of my heart.
When we finally break apart, he whispers, “You never actually said that you definitely didn’t kill your business partner. Still think I should be worried?”
“Only if you stop kissing me,” I say and pull him back in. I press kisses to his mouth and jaw. “For the record, I did not kill Taylor Grace. Not that I haven’t bought a voodoo doll or two, hoping the universe will take her out.”
He laughs, nuzzling my nose with his. Giddy from the lack of sleep and the feeling of being in his arms, I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Oh!” Hollis stands wide-eyed in the doorway. “I didn’t realize you were…”
“Um…” I jump back from Hughes.
He still keeps my hand in his.
“Just, uh…”
“I’m here to clean up,” Hollis says, her eyes red and puffy.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I—I feel like I should. I—” She sounds like she’s about to cry.
“There’s a lot of blood. I’ll take care of it. You should go home.” I shoo her to the door. “Rose is at the stall.”
“I can’t just sit at home,” Hollis frets. “I just—I don’t understand how this happened. And the police don’t know anything. They can’t find her phone, and they aren’t even trying to solve this case.”
“Maybe we should just let well enough alone,” Hughes says. “As long as we can prove Willow didn’t do it, then what’s the problem?”
Hollis gives him a long look. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll take the last of the sugarplum truffles to the stall,” she tells me, grabbing a napkin to wipe her eyes.
I lock the door behind her.
Hughes starts filling a bucket with soapy water.
As soon as we’re alone, he kisses me again, right there next to the ovens.
I’m boiling up by the time he releases me.
“I probably should shower before, um…” I pull at my sweater.
“Before I eat your Christmas cookies?” He smirks. Then he dunks a mop into the bucket and starts mopping the floor.
