Twenty
Felicity looked around with fondness at the little coffee shop. Even in the short time she’d been in Simpson, she’d gotten attached to this weird little town and its inhabitants, especially Lou and the coffee shop.
“You can’t go,” Lou moaned. The cappuccino machine groaned as if agreeing with her. “You brought the excitement back to town. Who’s going to stumble over bodies now?”
“I don’t know.” Felicity took a sip of her antioxidant smoothie. “I heard you’re pretty good at that.”
Lou huffed. “Did you hear that from a firefighter? Those gossipy hens.”
“Nope. Deputy Chris told me himself when we went to the sheriff’s department earlier to give our official written statements about last night.”
Lou tsked. “Deputy Chris? I thought he was more tight-lipped than that.”
“Can’t really blame him,” Felicity said. “Between the militia’s shenanigans, Cobra’s remains, and Deputy Donk…ah, Litchfield being suspended while he’s being investigated for his Freedom Survivors connections, I don’t think Chris has slept more than an hour over the past three days, and most of the blame for that falls on us.” She circled her finger, indicating herself, Bennett, and Lou.
“Me?” Lou gasped, touching her chest in a very fine imitation of someone clutching their pearls. “I would never…”
“Never kick a headless dead body?” Felicity smoothly interjected before taking another sip of her drink.
Lou couldn’t maintain her offended expression any longer and looked sheepish. “Okay,” she admitted. “I did kick a headless dead body— once .”
“We’re even then. One dead body each.” Felicity held her drink up in a toast, felt weird about toasting the finding of dead bodies, and hurried to set her glass back down.
“Not really even,” Bennett muttered. When both women looked at him, he gave one of his half shrugs. “Felicity didn’t kick hers.”
Lou clutched her imaginary pearls again as Felicity choked back a laugh. It seemed even worse to laugh about dead bodies than it was to toast the finding of them.
“When are you coming back?” Lou asked. “It better be soon, because I’m counting on both your signatures on the petition to change the Freedom Survivors’ name.”
It was Felicity’s turn to wince. “Not sure how long there’s going to be a militia in Simpson,” she said honestly. “Their current leader is suspected of killing their previous leader, plus three of their members are in jail for attempted murder and kidnapping, in Finn’s case. Oh, and what about Finn’s son? What was his name?” Felicity thought back to that first meeting of the firefighters, but all she could remember was his cranky expression. “The surly one. Is he involved in the militia too?”
“Kieran?” Lou held up her hands in a shrug, looking sad. “Who knows? All the firefighters loved his dad. Finn fooled everyone.” Letting out a breath, she smiled, although it looked a bit rough around the edges. “Back to you though. I need to know a return date.”
“Soon, I hope.” Felicity glanced at Bennett, finding him looking at her with that mix of love and wonder that never failed to turn her insides to mush. “Once we get things straightened out with my mom and the house, I want to come back to have a real honeymoon—without all the skulls and explosions and kidnapping and such.”
Bennett caught her hand under the counter and squeezed it.
Lou nodded solemnly. “I get how that could put a damper on your honeymoon.”
“How about a cabin in the woods this winter?” Felicity asked Bennett, getting excited about the idea. “Just you, me, a roaring fire, and a big bed.” Realizing that Lou was still part of the conversation, she looked at her, blushing. “Sorry. Overshare.”
“No problem, but as a former cabin owner, you might want to reconsider,” Lou warned. “Even before my house was set on fire, cabin living wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Felicity blinked. “This is a rather…violent area.”
Lou waved a casual hand. “I mean, except for thin ice on the reservoirs and the rockslides and avalanches and occasional arsonists and militia members and murderous sheriffs, it’s pretty quiet around here. Oh, and bears.”
“Murderous?” Feeling her eyes go wide, Felicity met Bennett’s equally startled gaze. “Um…Sheriff Summers?”
“Oh no,” Lou was quick to reassure her. “This was her predecessor. He’s dead now.” Her sad look returned, but she shook it off. “You’ll need to bring your sisters next time. I’d love to meet them.”
“Um…maybe?” Felicity was still stuck on the dangers Lou’d just listed.
Lou snorted a laugh. “Bad segue, right? Although something tells me that your sisters can handle themselves.”
“Most of them,” Felicity said, thinking about Norah. She was a little too naive and gentle for the dangerous world they inhabited, so Felicity and her other sisters all worried about her the most. “And they’d love you—plus all the murder club ladies.”
“Told you,” Lou said. “First time we met, I said we’d be best friends.”
Glancing around the coffee shop again, Felicity knew they’d be back to this beautiful, quirky, strangely murderous town. She grinned at her new bestie. “You were right.”
A customer drew Lou’s attention, and Bennett gave Felicity’s hand another squeeze.
“After your mom’s preliminary hearing and before our…honeymoon”—Bennett’s gaze heated as he said the word—“want to go to Fort Collins with me?”
“Sure?” The location seemed random until Felicity remembered that Fort Collins was Bennett’s hometown. “Oh! To meet your family?” A shot of terror darted through her at the thought. What if they hate me?
“Yeah. It’s my foster dad’s retirement party.” Bennett’s shoulders were stiff in the way they got when he was nervous. “I told him and Zena—my foster mom—about you. That you’re my wife. They’d like us to stay with them for a few days so they can get to know you.”
“Of course we can,” she said, The way he’d said “wife,” so reverent and adoring, muted Felicity’s anxiety about meeting her in-laws. Even if they did hate her at first, she’d win them over. For Bennett, she’d do anything.
As if reading her mind, he gave her one of his rare, sweet smiles. “They’re going to love you. How could they not?”
For that, she had to kiss him. How could she not?