Cinders (13 page)

“God you feel good,” he breathed out in a rush, still careful as he worked in and out of her.

Her body had acclimated and now welcomed him, every thrust running pleasure through her veins. She arched back and gave over to the sensations, enjoying the feel of them physically connecting in every way at last. When his hand slid down between them to rub her clit, she let out a sudden gasp and bucked, clawing at the bed sheets as the intensity of an impending climax took over.

“I love watching you come,” he whispered as her body tremored and bliss ran through her. Her hips still moved in time with his, legs wrapped around him to urge him deeper, and soon his pace became erratic. She felt him barreling toward his own orgasm and held him close as he came, his body shuddering in her arms. Brennen slumped atop her for a moment, their sweat-soaked skin gliding together, and then he rolled to his side with her in his embrace.

Gina sighed deeply, enjoying the endorphins still buzzing in her system, sleepy but awake, and more happy than she’d been in recent memory. The night was perfect, the future was bright, and Gina didn’t think anything could ruin it.

Chapter Fourteen

They moved hand in hand down the stairs to return to the main level of the house. It was nearly midnight, there couldn’t be that many people left, and staff was tasked with cleaning up, but Gina figured they should make another appearance and Brennen didn’t argue. She figured she was glowing and grinning like an idiot, but she felt too good to stop herself.

“Do you want to make some late dinner or raid the leftovers?” Brennen stopped on the bottom step and Gina did the same, turning to gaze up at him as he grinned down at her.

“Raid the leftovers. We missed the cake.”

He leaned into her and their lips met, kissing deeply, before he released her and veered left toward the kitchen.

Gina held the end of the heavy wood banister for a moment, scanning the dark hall and retracing her previous steps through the house in her mind. The ballroom should be just ahead and around the corner. The gown whirled around her legs as she walked, the silk still unfamiliar and causing her to glance down every few minutes. The whole thing felt like a dream, as if any moment she’d come to her senses in the back of Sweet Haven, rolling out dough, covered in flour, and wearing her usual grubby second-hand clothes.

Lights still burned from the chandeliers and sconces in the ballroom. Gina’s steps slowed as she peered around the corner. The place was mostly empty, just a handful of staff sweeping up along the perimeter of the room and a few guests left. Near the far entrance, Gina recognized Brennen’s father speaking in a low voice with a woman she didn’t know; since they were deep in conversation, Gina didn’t bother heading there and instead scanned the area around the near-empty food tables.

Brennen’s mother, Gloria Prescott, stood near one of the partially cleared tables, a flute of champagne in hand and pressed to her lips, her brows pulled into a frown. She looked as elegant and polished as she had previously in the evening, wearing a deep emerald silk gown and her dark hair perfectly styled in a French twist, teardrop diamond earrings glittering in the low light. But she didn’t have the expression of someone who’d enjoyed her evening and Gina immediately approached, worried something was wrong.

“Gloria?” Gina said carefully as she stepped toward her. “Is something—”

Gloria Prescott’s gaze settled on Gina and she immediately set down her glass. “Gina.” A heavy breath deflated her shoulders and she dropped the volume of her voice as she approached. “Where on earth did you go?”

Heat crawled up Gina’s cheeks. There was no delicate way of explaining
that
. “I...”

Gloria waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter. Listen, there’s been—”

“Is that her?”

Gina startled and swung around at the sudden angry voice and heavy clip of heels on the floor. The woman who had been speaking to Brennen’s father stormed over. Just a tiny spec of a woman, her height and small build did nothing to diminish her overall anger and the wild waving of her hands made her seem that much bigger.

For a moment Gina scanned her memory, hoping a name would leap to recollection, but nothing came to mind. She didn’t recognize the woman and couldn’t fathom what her problem was.

Though Gloria tried to intercept, it did no good; the woman merely pushed past her to get to Gina.

“You!” she practically spat and Gina immediately cringed, her body bracing for a hit. “You’re the one who prepared dessert!”

“Yes?” Gina glanced at Brennen’s parents, who both frowned but said nothing in her defense.

“You incompetent little moron—what part of ‘nut-free’ was so difficult for you to understand?”

Gina blinked. “What? There weren’t any nuts in—”

“Really? Then why did my husband’s throat swell up the size of a softball? Hmm?”

Her hands trembling, Gina crossed her arms at her stomach and fought to remember what, if anything, she’d done wrong. She’d been so
careful
. No nuts used in anything, under any circumstances—everyone in the kitchen knew that. It was one of the first arrangements the Prescotts had made with her.

The woman swung around to Gloria again. “This is why you can’t trust anyone to do things right. I
told you
, Gloria, that something like this would happen, bringing in useless people off the streets who haven’t been properly vetted—”

“She’s had a police check and a background check, and she’s hardly someone ‘off the street’,” Gloria said crisply.

Gina’s face flamed red and she held her tongue, gaze moving between the two women as she continued to piece together what had happened.

“Gina, this is Lillian McMillan, Mayor McMillan’s wife,” Gloria explained gently.

Oh God
. Somehow she’d nearly killed the
mayor
?

“I swear everything was nut-free,” Gina said. “I made everything myself—”

“Then you run an unsanitary kitchen and something was contaminated!” Mrs. McMillan’s volume pitched higher and Gina shrank back. “There shouldn’t have been almonds anywhere
near
the food tonight. My husband is deathly ill in the hospital right this very second because of you! You and your cake! He reacted almost immediately, I know it was you! I will sue you
and
your little shop for
everything
you have after this stunt, you little—”

“Charlene, please,” Gloria started and Mrs. McMillan swung around to shout at her next.

But Gina heard little of it. Tears filled her eyes and then her feet were backing up, carrying her without being commanded. She broke into a run and darted down the length of the ballroom, straight for the front door.

The kitchen was clean, she was sure of it. The food was prepared with care. The ingredients hand selected. There wasn’t a single nut among any of it, but as irrational as the woman was acting, Gina didn’t doubt she was completely truthful about her husband’s allergy.

My God, and I’ve been worried about Maureen ruining my reputation. I’ve done it myself.

Maureen.

She ran down the steps, swiping at the tears freely falling down her cheeks, and went for one of the idling taxis off to the side. They were there to ensure any patrons who had been drinking got home safely, paid for by the Prescotts, and she might as well make use of one to get home.

****

Brennen stood in the kitchen stacking food onto a large plate for him and Gina. All hors d’oeuvres and a few delectable dessert squares. The cake had already been wrapped up and he’d kindly convinced someone to retrieve it for him with the promise he’d put it away afterward.

While he waited, he leaned on the counter and pulled out his phone to see a few missed calls and texts from the past few hours. A number were from his mother—he’d find her in a few minutes—while one was from Mike asking what Gina had thought of the rest of the files.

The files which they’d skipped due to being a little distracted at the time.

Brennen texted back.
Sorry, was busy. Checking them out now.

He opened the email with the relevant attachment and glanced at the photos. Older ones, definitely, with long-dead fashion and hairstyles. A man and a woman, maybe in high school.

He looked closer and realized he definitely recognized the woman—that was Maureen Chandler-Cassidy.

And the man. That couldn’t be...could it?

Brennen dialed Mike, who answered on the third ring. “You’re lucky I don’t sleep.”

“You found those photos in the safe?” Brennen asked immediately.

“Yes, and yearbooks. That’s who I think it is, right?”

“Gina’s father and stepmother, yeah. But that was thirty years ago, well before they got married.”

“So Gina didn’t know they knew each other previously?”

If she did, she’d never mentioned it, but it was putting together a completely different picture of Maureen Chandler. Although Brennen knew she was horrible to Gina, he’d had trouble understanding
why
. Why she hated a child who’d done nothing wrong. Why she’d apparently worked so hard to scrub Gina’s parents from the bakery and home.

There was the answer. She’d been in love with William Cassidy before he knew Gina’s mother and there was definitely lasting resentment there.

“I’ll ask Gina if she was aware but I’m guessing no,” Brennen said. “It certainly clarifies some things for me, though.”

“She hasn’t seen them yet?”

“No, she’s in the other room.”

“I caught the insurance policies on the bakery—they must’ve been put in place by her father because it’s the same deal you suspected with the inheritance.”

“Gina turns twenty-one and she gets everything if there’s damage?”

“Right.”

“I’ll find her and let you know what she says. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow to get copies of what you found?”

“In the afternoon, sure.”

“Thanks, Mike. I owe you.”

“You certainly do, Bren.” And he hung up.

Brennen stared down at his phone for a moment. He wasn’t sure how Gina would react to this news, but if it armed her with more information, he was all for telling her. Tomorrow he’d sit down with his father and go over the situation to get his advice, and then see if he couldn’t determine who the new shop buyers were. Either way, Gina was getting her bakery back and her stepmother had better keep the hell away from her for good.

He tucked his phone in his pocket and left the food in the kitchen, heading through the house in search of Gina. While he didn’t find her, voices shouting drew him to the ballroom.

His parents were there along with a petite woman he recognized as Lillian McMillan, the mayor’s wife. Brennen had met her quite a few times over the years as his parents dragged him to the charity functions she organized. He’d found her abrasive then and apparently little had changed.

“If
you
won’t call the police, I will!” McMillan waved her cell phone around, her pinched face beet red while Brennen’s mother hand her hands up in a placating gesture.

Across the room his father was on the phone, his voice low and inaudible, and gaze not turning to the ensuring argument even once.

“First she poisons my husband and then she flees the scene! What
more
could you possibly want, Gloria?”

A sick feeling twisted through Brennen’s gut as he approached them, realizing there was no sign of Gina. He cleared his throat and his mother swung around, her frown softening upon seeing him.

“Brennen...” She folded her hand on his arm and took a few steps back from McMillan, who continued to glower in their direction.

“Mom, what is it?” he asked in a low voice.

His mother pursed her lips for a moment and then sighed. “You were with Gina for most of the day, weren’t you?”

“Yes...”

“In the kitchen?”

He scanned his memory. “Part of the time. When I wasn’t helping elsewhere. Why? What happened?”

“Franklin McMillan had a rather serious allergic reaction to the cake, implying there were almonds in it.”

Brennen shook his head. “Gina wouldn’t do that. She was adamant about the dietary restrictions you had in place. I watched her special order everything myself and give instructions to the suppliers.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t believe she’d do it intentionally, or even carelessly, but he had a very bad reaction—I saw it. He’s in the hospital now. Something happened.”

“Where’s Gina?”

She put her hand to her brow and rubbed at her temple as if a headache was forming. “She left, just slipped away while Lillian was shouting at her. I don’t blame the poor girl for being spooked but it just made her look more guilty.”

Gina couldn’t have done it—wouldn’t have, he knew. She was too careful, for starters, not to mention too experienced. It might’ve been her first catering experience but it wasn’t her first time baking. A handful of nut-free options were provided in the store—if this had happened due to frequent negligence, someone would’ve said something long before this.

“I’ll find Gina,” Brennen said, patting his mother’s shoulder. “Send Lillian home. Preferably without suing anyone.”

She waved a hand at him. “Your father’s taking care of that, her threats don’t hold any water, so tell Gina not to worry about it. But we do need to get to the bottom of this.”

“We will,” he promised and turned to head toward the door.

We definitely will.

****

Gina had the taxi drop her off a few blocks from the shop and walked the rest of the way. Soon her legs and feet were aching and she slipped the heels off, dangling them from their straps in one hand while her other hand gathered her skirt and kept it from the ground. The pavement was cool and rough on her bare feet as she rushed down the block, the street silent and empty. She supposed anyone who had been at the Prescotts’ party would be in bed by now and the only place open at that hour was the bar on the other side of town, leaving Midsummer’s core deadly quiet.