Chapter 9
Dahlia picked up her phone for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.
But before she hit anyone’s name, she put it back down and stared at her laptop.
She still couldn’t believe that she’d just run out of Dutton’s shop the day before as if she were running from a criminal.
Though as far as she knew, he was one. Or at least had been one.
Arson? Could it be true that he’d been starting fires in Keating Hollow?
Obviously, he hadn’t started the barbecue fire.
She’d been there for that, and it had definitely been an accident…
one technically caused by her own dog! But what about the one at the pie shop?
He’d been in town and then had stopped to put it out.
But why would he put it out if he’d started it? None of it made sense to her.
All she knew was that the Magical Task Force agent had said something about Dutton being in trouble for arson back in San Diego. Ten counts of arson.
And that made him dangerous. She couldn’t date an arsonist. Or anyone who wasn’t an upstanding citizen for that matter. She’d made the right decision when she’d left. Now she just needed to call off their date. Or rather dates. Assuming he wasn’t in custody.
Only for some reason, she just couldn’t make herself type out the text. It was infuriating.
Maybe it was because when she’d searched Dutton Williams and arson online, she hadn’t found anything. And just because he’d been charged with something once, it didn’t mean he’d actually been proven guilty. Right?
She knew the authorities didn’t always nab the correct person when conducting their investigations. Maybe this was all just a misunderstanding.
She blew out a breath and slammed her laptop closed. Sitting at her desk was only going to drive her batty. Dahlia needed to do something creative with her hands so that she could get out of her own head.
“Baking,” she said aloud. “That’s it, Shortcake. I’ll bake cookies.”
Her pup ran over and stared up at her with adoring eyes.
“I’m not going to make puppy cookies. But I do have some store-bought ones. Come on. I’ll get you a treat before I get started.” She laughed as Shortcake jumped up and spun around with excitement. “Man, I wish I was that excited about something.”
After she gave Shortcake her treat, Dahlia went into the kitchen and got busy mixing her tried-and-true sugar cookie dough. If she was going to engage her creative brain, she wanted something she could spend a lot of time decorating.
Once the dough was ready and chilling in the refrigerator, Dahlia took stock of the different cookie cutters that Gwynn had collected over the years.
She was delighted to find a ghost, a witch, a bat, a pumpkin, and a tombstone.
There was also something that looked like it might be a zombie or big foot, but she wasn’t sure.
She added it to her pile, ready to turn those cookies into any number of Halloween ghouls.
Two hours later, she was sitting at her counter, bowls of colored icing in front of her, while she decorated a Frankenstein monster. The green was the perfect color, and she’d nailed the design if she did say so herself.
“These are going to be a huge hit, Shortcake,” Dahlia said, though she had no idea with who. Harlow and Cash maybe? That would do it. She’d take the cookies and put them on the counter at her soon-to-be office building. Any clients who stopped in could take their pick.
She was busy sculpting a mummy’s bandages when she heard a soft knock on her door.
Shortcake took off, barking wildly at whoever had dared to interrupt her nap.
“That’s enough, girl,” Dahlia said as she pulled the front door open and then just stared at the man on her porch.
She hid a grimace, realizing that she hadn’t ever actually gone through with canceling her date with Dutton.
And there he was, looking handsome as ever in clean jeans and a flannel shirt.
He was also holding a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.
“Dutton, I”—she glanced away—“you’re here. ”
“I said I would be. Were you not expecting me?” His tone sounded neutral, but it was hard to miss the hurt in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said as her manners kicked in.
She opened the door wider and invited him in.
He was there, after all. She couldn’t just slam the door in his face.
Not that she wanted to. She just wished she’d never heard anything about arson.
“I was making Halloween cookies and completely lost track of the time.”
He eyed her apron and then smiled. “That explains the smudges of frosting.”
She glanced down at herself and groaned. “Oh my gosh. Give me two minutes to clean up.”
“Take your time,” he said as he walked into her kitchen and started looking in her cupboards. “Point me to a vase or something to put these in.”
“There.” She pointed to the empty vase that was already on the table.
“Oh, perfect. Now go on. I’ve got this.” He retrieved the vase and started filling it with water.
Dahlia hesitated, completely thrown off guard. But when he looked over his shoulder at her, that was enough to send her into action. She bolted to her bedroom, lost the apron, and then slapped on a little makeup before she rejoined Dutton in the kitchen.
He was busy inspecting her cookies. When he looked up, he grinned. “These are amazing. Are you sure you don’t want to open your own bakery?”
“And hand decorate cookies all day every day?” She scoffed. “I like doing it every once in a while, but not as a living. I think I’d hate cookies if I had to work with them every day.”
“I get that.” Dutton stared at her until she got flustered and glanced away. “You didn’t want me to come here today, did you?” he asked.
“Yes, I— Sorry. I was going to cancel, but then… I don’t know. I just couldn’t.” She plopped down on a stool, feeling like she was two feet tall. “I’m sorry. I think I’m just thrown after what I heard yesterday at your shop.”
“About my record,” he said flatly.
“Yes… I” She got up and started to pace again.
“I’m really sorry. I just don’t have experience with this kind of thing, and the idea that you started fires on purpose…
I just don’t know if I can get past that.
Even if it was a long time ago.” Dahlia felt like she’d just kicked a man when he was down, but she had to be honest. She’d never relax if she knew he had a criminal past.
Of course people changed, and everyone deserved the chance to become a better version of themselves. But if he was being questioned by the Magical Task Force, was his questionable conduct really still in the past? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
Dutton turned and started to move toward her front door. “I understand. I’ll just go. Enjoy the flowers and the wine.” His head was down as he walked out of her kitchen, and Dahlia just couldn’t stand it.
“What happened, Dutton?” she asked, stopping him in his tracks.
When he turned around, his expression was blank. “You mean yesterday or back when I was still a kid and ended up with a record?”
“Both, I guess. If you don’t mind sharing,” she said and instantly regretted those words. It was obvious from the expression on his face that he did mind.
Still, he walked over to her back door and said, “Could we sit out on your porch while I tell you my story?”
“Of course. Do we need the wine?” she asked.
“Yes.” He strode outside, his shoulders hunched as he rubbed his palm over his scalp.
Dahlia opened the wine, poured two generous glasses, and then joined him, leaving Shortcake in the house. Silently, she handed him a glass before taking her seat.
She didn’t say anything as she slowly sipped her wine, waiting for him to start.
Dutton had nearly drained his glass before he said, “I was put into foster care when I was a teenager. So was Briggs, but he was younger when we were separated. I had no idea where he was and no way to find him. It was… awful.”
Dahlia turned to look at him and found that he’d closed his eyes.
He was gripping the arm of the chair with his free hand so hard his knuckles had turned white.
She couldn’t help but want to comfort him.
She placed her hand over his and squeezed slightly.
That seemed to help relax him a bit. He took a deep breath and continued.
“My foster family was a crime family,” he said flatly.
“Crime family? As in the mob?” she asked, shocked to her core. She wasn’t expecting that.
“Not the actual mob, but they modeled themselves after them. The dad made the local businesses pay him protection money. And when they didn’t pay up, he brought me along.” Dutton’s throat was dry, and he wished desperately that his glass wasn’t empty.
“They brought you… because of your fire magic,” she filled in.
“Yep. If they didn’t pay, my foster dad made me burn something.
Usually, it was something small at first. A designer handbag or their kid’s bike.
But if they got really behind or refused to cooperate, that’s when I was forced to burn cars and in one case a garage.
That fire got out of hand, and since I was still a kid and didn’t fully understand how to control my magic, the entire house burned down. ”
Dahlia gasped and instantly covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t sure why. He was the one responsible for destroying someone’s house. Her shock shouldn’t be surprising.
“Yeah. It was awful. I hated every moment of living with my foster family and being forced to use my magic to do my foster father’s dirty work. But I didn’t have a choice.”
“You didn’t?” Dahlia asked, knowing that he was probably right. As a teenager, he couldn’t have had much agency. But she just couldn’t imagine doing such terrible things. “I get that you were still a kid, but what would he have done if you’d refused?”
Dutton rolled up the sleeve of his flannel shirt and turned his arm over, showing her a nasty scar.
“See that? It was done with a hunting knife the first night I refused to be my foster father’s enforcer.
I was told in no uncertain terms that if I disobeyed again, he’d carve my kidneys out with the same knife.
Since I’d seen people disappear from our neighborhood before, I believed him. What would you have done?”
Run, she thought. Talk to a teacher? Tell CPS? But she knew none of that was realistic. Dutton was only a kid who’d already lost one home and been abused in the next. How would any kid be able to handle that situation? “I’m glad I never had to find out,” she said in a soft voice.
Dutton turned his hand over and laced his fingers with hers, gently squeezing. “I’m grateful for that, too.”
They were silent for a long time before she asked, “How did you get away from him?”
Dutton snorted. “Just before I turned eighteen, he was busted. I turned State’s evidence, confessed everything I’d done, and got them to seal my record. Ever since then, I’ve only used my fire magic to put one out.”
Dahlia felt something deep inside her settle, and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that everything he’d said was the truth. She looked directly at him and said, “I believe you.”
He held her gaze. “Do you? Do you really, or do you have a nagging doubt somewhere?”
“No doubts,” she said and then leaned over and pressed her lips to his.