Chapter 48 Avery
AVERY
I used the spade Noah gave me to dig a hole in the flower bed near the gazebo, reached for one of the yellow marigolds sitting on the ground, and placed one of the plants into the freshly dug hole.
“I think I’m getting the hang of this,” I said, sitting back on my heels to study my handiwork.
Noah looked over from his own planting, his green eyes warm. “You’re already a pro.”
I laughed. It wasn’t hard, but I’d found that working with my hands was surprisingly rewarding.
“How are you at painting?” Dane asked from the ladder where he was brushing crisp white paint onto the gazebo’s trim.
We’d all decided it was in need of a clean slate after what has happened to Harold, but paint was the last thing on my mind when I looked at Dane’s inked arms stroking paint onto the gazebo.
Being around Beck, Noah, and Dane meant existing in a constant state of arousal but I wasn’t mad about it.
“I’ve wielded a paint brush or two in my time,” I said.
“I’ll try you on a trial basis.” Dane didn’t look away from his work, but I heard the warmth in his voice, knew it was meant for me. “See how it goes.”
“I accept those terms.” I dug another hole. “Think we’ll ever figure out what Harold was doing here that day?”
It was something we’d talked about more than once in the two weeks since Sheriff Crowe arrested Walter at the duck farm.
We knew why Harold had been at Finch Farm: he’d been scoping it out for the future Hearthstone Links Golf Club, looking for ways to claim Walter’s land for Hearthstone under eminent domain.
Walter had discovered Harold’s double-dealing and followed him to Evelyn’s property, and the cherub statue in the orchard had been seized by Sheriff Crowe’s department as evidence in the murder of Harold Pembroke.
But we still didn’t know why Harold had been here. We also didn’t know who’d been following me around town, but it definitely hadn’t been Walter.
“Probably not,” Noah said, using one muscled forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “It’s not like Harold’s talking.”
Dane barked out a wry burst of laughter from his spot on the ladder.
It all left me feeling more than a little unsettled. Not just because it was impolite to laugh at a dead guy but because Harold had been working with Hearthstone, and Hearthstone was still very much determined to build in Blackwell Hollow.
I sighed. “I just wish we knew.”
Noah glanced over at me. “I hope for all our sakes you let that one go, sweetheart. I’m not looking to see you get into any trouble again.”
“Or smell you getting into any trouble again,” Dane said, referring to the mud and duck poop that had taken three washings to get out of my hair.
“Haha,” I said. “You didn’t smell so great either you know.”
“You weren’t complaining in the shower, baby girl.”
My cheeks heated right along with the rest of me when I remembered the way Dane had fucked me in the shower after the Duck Farm Incident.
At least he’d waited until I was clean.
“I almost feel sorry for Walter,” I said, patting dirt around my third marigold.
“He was going to kill you,” Dane pointed out.
“I know, but none of it would have happened if he hadn’t been afraid of losing the farm.” And now he probably would, seeing as how the judge had denied him bail and he would be in jail for the foreseeable future.
“Yeah,” Noah said, with a sigh. “What he did was wrong, but I kind of get it.”
I wondered if he was thinking about his family farm and the big corporation who’d bought it after his mom died.
Everything was changing, all the time. Not just Blackwell Hollow but me too.
I heard footsteps on the path behind me and turned to find Beck making his way toward the gazebo. His faded jeans hung just low enough on his hips to make me remember what he looked like naked, and his sculpted biceps flexed as he ran a hand casually through his brown hair.
Being around Beck, Noah, and Dane was like sitting in front of an all-you-can-eat buffet 24/7, except in this case I never got enough and felt absolutely zero desire to push away from the table.
“Looking good,” Beck said, surveying our work on the gazebo. “It’s almost like there wasn’t a dead guy here three weeks ago.”
“That’s not helping,” I said.
He flashed me a grin. “Sorry. You ready?”
I looked over at Noah. “Can I clock out?”
Noah winked. “I’ll take your unworked hours out in trade later.”
My pussy got wet in anticipation.
Beck held out a hand and helped me to my feet. “Back in a couple hours.”
I’d promised to help him pack a massive cupcake order for a Chamber of Commerce meet and greet.
“Want to do Mexican tonight?” Noah asked. “I could really go for a burrito.”
“Sure,” Beck said. “I’ll bring home cupcakes for dessert.”
Dane glanced possessively at me from the ladder. “I’ve got all the dessert I need.”
“You can never have too many desserts.” Beck kissed me on the lips. “Isn’t that right, cupcake?”
Three weeks ago I might have disagreed. Now I thought he might be right.
“See you losers later.” Beck took my hand and we made our way through the gardens, past the hedge maze and shed, and out onto the driveway in front of the house.
“Oh yeah,” Beck said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans with his free hand. “Thought you might want this.”
He handed me a piece of paper.
“What is it?”
“It’s a flyer from Paula Price.”
“Who’s Paula Price?” I unfolded the flyer.
“The best realtor in town,” Beck said.
I looked at the picture of the blonde woman standing next to a SOLD sign, her arms folded over a red suit, her blond hair styled into perfect waves. Behind her, a quaint cottage with flowers in window boxes stood on a manicured green lawn.
My heart sank. I’d been avoiding thinking about listing the house and bakery. At first I told myself it was because I was recovering from the shock of the Duck Farm Incident.
Not to mention the Courtroom Incident, the Town Meeting Incident, and the Coffee Shop Incident.
But the truth was, I hadn’t wanted to think about going back to the city.
I stuffed the flyer into the pocket of my shorts. “Thanks, but I think I’m going to stick around, just for a while.”
Beck grinned. “A while huh?”
I nodded. “At least.”
He let out a whoop and lifted me off my feet, spinning me around before planting a long kiss on my lips. “I’ll take it.”
I laughed and let him take my hand.
Staying hadn’t been in the plan, but I was starting to see the appeal of Blackwell Hollow. It was weird for sure, and some of the people (cough, Rosie) made me want to scream, but it was something else too.
What was it Clara had said about Evelyn? That she liked her life “full and fragrant?”
Yeah, that. That’s what Blackwell Hollow was: full and fragrant.
And that sounded better and better every day.
Thanks so much for reading this strange and twisted book baby, a genre mashup of cozy mystery and dark and spicy romance I’ve been dying (get it?
haha) to try. The world can be so dark right now and I wanted to give readers of the Blackwellverse a little something different: a frolic if you will, a fun little romp through a crazy town where the stakes aren’t terribly high, the heroine is silly, and the men really just want to help (you have an orgasm).
I have zero idea whether this book will land, but I’ve had so much fun writing it, and I love that Blackwell Hollow has been written into existence, a place we can all return to if we need a little respite from the darkness all around.
Thank you so much for reading!