19. Emmie
19
EMMIE
“ I ’m ruined,” I groaned from the couch in the too-warm great room of the senior center.
Gran was plying me with alcohol and the box of cupcakes in fun flavors I was testing out. They all tasted like cardboard.
“Cora tells me you’re being hysterical,” Gran admonished as Cora came over with herbal tea for me. “There’s a line out of your café. Everyone wants to see where Beatrice was almost murdered.”
“Allergies!” I wailed. “She had allergies. The doctor used an EpiPen. No one was almost murdered today.”
Gran shoved the bottle of Winter Wonderland tequila, which tasted about as vile as it sounds, under my nose.
“Drink up.” She glugged the liquor into my mouth. “It still could have been a murder, you know.”
“I thought you were on my side,” I groaned as my grandmother tried to sponge frosting off my face.
“Emmie, are you all right?”
Marius’s face appeared in my blurry vision.
“I’m ruined. Abbott just published a story about the cupcake murderer striking again.” I waved my phone at him. “Also, he needs an editor. There are spelling mistakes. Ow!” I’d dropped the phone on my head.
Marius took it. “I just got back from the police station. It turns out Beatrice is deathly allergic to shellfish.”
“So she accidentally ate shellfish at someone else’s shop and had an allergic reaction at mine?”
Marius shook his head. “Someone in town—because of course this is a thing—has a pig that he uses to sniff out clams.”
“Andy.” I nodded. “He supplies Zoe’s restaurant.”
“There was shellfish in the sausage rolls… according to the pig, anyway.”
I sat up. “But I don’t use shellfish. And gross! Who puts shellfish in a sausage roll?”
“Don’t worry about the mystery. You need to rest,” Cora said, plumping up the pillows. “My grandmother says you woke up super early and were up all night.”
“Good news sure travels fast here.”
“You’re going to have a nervous breakdown if you’re not careful,” Cora warned.
Marius sat down across from me.
I settled back on the couch cushions as the crowd drifted off to see what food Cora had brought.
I wiped at my eyes and took another swig of the tequila. “Sorry I fell apart. I’m not a good crime-fighting partner, am I?” I laughed weakly.
“Cora’s right,” the lawyer said seriously. “You’ve had a rough week.” His large hand came up to trail through my tangled hair.
I was suddenly self-conscious about my disheveled state. I picked up another cupcake and took a bite. There was an explosion of orange and spice.
“This one is definitely going into the advent calendar for next week,” I said, my tongue flicking out to follow the motion. “Look at that!” I showed him the cupcake. “It’s, like, the perfect bite. I did good on this frosting.” I was babbling, and he tracked the motion, like a cat with a mouse, as I sucked the frosting off my fingers.
Marius watched me, assessing, two fingers on his chin.
“Pro tip: Italian meringue buttercream is best if things are heating up. Swiss meringue buttercream, though—that stuff will wilt like no one’s business.”
Hazel eyes dark, they followed the motion of my tongue as I poked it at the frosting, testing the firmness.
“If you don’t stop,” Marius said in that deep voice, “I’m going to say something thoroughly unprofessional to you.”
Panicking, I stuffed the rest of the cupcake into my mouth and chewed furiously. Though I’d been married, my sex life had started out lackluster and quickly swan dived off the cliff of mediocrity. Brooks had been my one and only, and eighteen-year-old me had thought the captain of the football team drunkenly fumbling me in the back of his pickup truck was the height of romance.
I picked up the tequila bottle to wash down the cupcake.
Marius grabbed it before I could open the cap. “I don’t want to taste that tequila when I kiss you,” he warned.
I licked my lips, tasting the sweet frosting.
What would he taste like?
“I thought you didn’t want to get disbarred for sleeping with a client.”
“I think we have enough evidence to prove that you didn’t do it. You weren’t at the scene of the crime when Beatrice was poisoned. Not to mention that the pig didn’t find any other shellfish in your kitchen. I can make a solid case if I get dragged into the bar association for it.”
“You lawyers. Always looking for loopholes big enough to stick your dick in.”
His lips parted. A flash of teeth.
“That was the tequila talking,” I croaked.
Marius leaned in, his breath hot as he lightly nuzzled my neck.
“I wasn’t actually,” he whispered as my chest clenched, “going to suggest putting my cock in any holes, loop or otherwise. I just wanted to do this.” He pressed a kiss to my neck. “And this.” Another to my chin. “And this.” His lips feathered over my cheekbone and on the swell of my breasts.
“You fucking lawyers,” I whispered against his mouth, dragging him up by his hair. “You’re all so full of shit.”
He grabbed my chin roughly, crushing his mouth to mine.
I clawed at the back of the wool suit jacket, wishing I could just tear the clothes off of him.
I should have left Brooks a long time ago if this was how it was to be with a real man.
His large hand slid down to my neck, forcing my head back so his tongue could plunder my mouth.
When he finally pulled back, I was panting against his broad chest.
Marius gazed down at me, eyes dark. Then he dipped his chin to give me another long, slow kiss.
Was this it? My ovaries were fired up and ready to go, and I had condoms in my purse because Gran was ever the optimist and regularly told me, “Fuck those marriage vows. You deserve cock in your life!”
After the pump and dumps by a drunk Brooks in the dark, I hadn’t understood what she’d meant until now. And I wasn’t going to be able to wait until Christmas to open my present.
“Do you want to go somewhere not filled with nosy old people so you can see if my pussy tastes as sweet as frosting?”
Startled, he widened his hazel eyes. I nipped his bottom lip as he strangled a surprised curse.
“I told you,” I whispered, grabbing his jaw, kissed him, then pushed him back onto the sofa. “I want to thank you properly for saving me.”