Chapter 3
BECK
I took the flour, sugar, and oatmeal out of the pantry and started measuring both into Evelyn’s favorite ceramic mixing bowl. It had been a hell of a day, and there was only one way to end a hell of a day: with cookies.
Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, to be exact.
I know, I know, they sounded… healthy. And who the fuck wanted a healthy cookie after a rough day?
But being healthy wasn’t the point of the oatmeal. It was the chew, the nutty flavor that made you think of a warm fire, of home, of your mom.
Not that I was thinking about my mom. I wished I was thinking about my mom. I wished I was thinking about Harold Pembroke’s body in the gazebo or the local police who’d descended on the property or even the questions Sheriff Crowe had asked me in the dining room.
Literally anything except Avery Hart, the chestnut-haired girl with warm brown eyes who’d calmly told us about Harold.
Dane, Noah, and I hadn’t even known about Evelyn’s niece until Irving Norwood told us what was in Evelyn’s will.
Or more specifically, what was in Evelyn’s will that concerned us, which was basically the fact that the house would be given to her niece, who lived in the city, and that we would continue to be paid out of her trust. We were also told that we’d receive a cash severance if said niece decided to sell the house.
What we hadn’t been told was that Evelyn’s niece was young.
And beautiful.
But not beautiful the way a painting of a sunset was beautiful.
Avery’s beauty wasn’t cliche. I pictured her the way she’d looked standing in the gazebo, her long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail that was backlit by the sun.
She had sharp cheekbones and delicate features, and her brown eyes had been wide and curious.
Something about her face made me want to look longer, something in it that was more interesting than just being pretty.
Which she was.
Striking. That was the word that came to mind when I thought about her.
And yeah, I won’t lie, the afternoon sun filtering through her dress hadn’t hurt either.
I hadn’t meant to look, but it had been impossible to ignore the curve of her ass before she’d turned to look at us, impossible to look away from the light shining through the tiny gap between her legs that made me want to stuff my face between her thighs and eat her pussy.
“They done with you?” Noah said, entering the kitchen.
“Uh… yeah, I think so.” I was glad I was behind the island. I was cordial with the other guys in the house, but they didn’t need to know I had a hard-on thinking about our new employer. “You?”
“Yeah.” He walked over to one of the plants hanging in front of the glass doors leading to the terrace, then lifted one of its leaves. “You’re looking a little under the weather, Patty.”
It didn’t faze me that he was talking to the plant or that he’d given the plant a name. A lot of Noah’s plants had names, and after two years of living under the same roof, we were used to each other, even if we weren’t close.
“They think we’re suspects.” I used my hands to cream the butter together with the sugar. In the bakery — Evelyn’s bakery — we had three commercial-size mixers, but at home I liked to use my hands.
“Seems like it,” Noah said, turning away from the plant. “But why would any of us kill Pembroke? He was trying to stop that big development on the lake.”
It was true. Harold hadn’t been the only one trying to stop Hearthstone Development Group from building their gated housing development, but he’d been out front with his efforts.
“I think they just need to rule everybody out.” I scowled as Noah scooted onto the counter.
“I think they’re still talking to Evelyn’s niece,” he said, peering into the mixing bowl.
I walked to the pantry to get the chocolate chips, an expensive brand I ordered from France for the store. “Yeah, they took her to the parlor.”
“She’s… younger than I expected.”
I caught his eye. “Younger” wasn’t the word he’d been looking for.
Prettier maybe.
Hotter likely.
“Yeah.”
“How long do you think she’ll be here?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dane said, walking into the kitchen. Everything about him was controlled, from the precision of his short black hair to his clipped vocabulary.
Noah laughed a little. “Right.”
Dane frowned on his way to the fridge. “What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?” Noah asked. “You saw her.”
“And?” Dane removed a beer and twisted off the top.
“And she’s hot,” Noah said.
Knew it.
“So?”
Noah rolled his eyes, and Dane scowled at the cookie dough in the mixing bowl.
“You’re making cookies?” he asked.
“I thought Avery might want some comfort food.”
I was going to put the cookies in the oven, then start on homemade mac and cheese. Cooking wasn’t my forte — baking was my jam, thanks to Evelyn, who’d taught me everything she knew — but I did an okay job with the basics.
Noah lifted his eyebrows. “You think cookies will make up for the fact that she found a dead body in the gazebo?”
“On her first day?” Dane added. “Her first hour?”
I looked at the bowl of cookie dough and second-guessed my instincts.
Nope, my instincts were correct. Avery needed cookies.
And mac and cheese.
“Yep,” I said, pulling two baking sheets down from the cupboard.
“How is this going to work?” Noah asked.
I started dropping balls of dough onto one of the cookie sheets. “How’s what going to work?”
“Avery,” Noah said. “Living here. With us.”
He reached into the bowl of cookie dough and I smacked his hand away. “No. And get off the counter.”
He loved sitting on the counter, but I’d never dared to order him off it when Evelyn had been alive.
The house had been her domain, and she’d been fine with Noah’s casual quirks, his weird way of talking to plants and the way he claimed to know which parts of the lawn needed a “break” from foot traffic even when it all looked the same.
Evelyn had been fine with everything: with Dane’s attitude and the way he hardly ever used more than two words to ask or answer a question and with all my quirks too.
The house felt empty without her. We were still trying to adjust to the new normal: no Evelyn with her deep laughter and easy conversation, no Evelyn to keep us polite with nothing more than a stern glance.
Even in her eighties Evelyn Whitaker had been sharp-witted and funny, and the house was a real drag without her.
Dane, Noah, and I had been orbiting each other like silent satellites, Dane managing the finances for the house and the bakery, calling repair people when required while Noah maintained the lawn and gardens and I kept the bakery running and the house clean.
I was beginning to realize things were going to change. It felt like an us and them moment, or more accurately, an us and her moment.
There was us — Dane, Noah, and I — on one side of the equation, and Avery Hart, the hot new arrival — our boss, technically — on the other.
“So?” Noah asked, breaking into my thoughts.
I slid the first two trays of cookies into the oven. “So what?”
“How’s it going to work? With Avery here?”
“It’s going to work how it works.” Dane tipped his beer to his lips, then continued. “She’s our employer. Like Evelyn. We’ll be professional.”
“Professional,” Noah repeated.
I didn’t blame him for looking skeptical. We’d all cared about Evelyn — loved her even — but none of us had wanted to fuck her.
“Yes.” Dane’s voice was steady. “Professional.”
Noah laughed. “Speak for yourself.”