Flourless to Stop Him (16 page)

“Exactly.” Grandma added sweetener and cream until her mug overflowed onto the saucer.

“You think someone in the police department knows more than they’re letting on.”

“It might be how they have stayed one step ahead of us at every turn.”

“I don’t know.” I sat down hard. “I can’t see Chief Blaylock or Officer Bright involved in murder. There’s no way Officer Emry is smart enough to stay one step ahead of anyone.”

“Maybe.” Grandma dunked her donut in the coffee until a portion fell off into the mug, splashing coffee all over. She dipped her head and slurped the drink until she could safely stick her fingers in it and dredge out the donut. “I don’t have proof of anything. Sort of like the Peeping Tom. All I have is instinct. I bet if you start looking at the connection between the police and the motels you’ll find something hiding in plain sight.”

S
now days in Kansas were rare, especially for the southeast corner of the state. We were much more likely to get an ice storm than actual large amounts of snow. But this time, the radio was calling it the storm of the century.

Grandma must have called Bill, because he showed up in his big fat Lincoln Town Car and escorted both Grandma and her scooter off to court. After last night’s encounter at the police station, Brad and Tasha had both called me before 8:00
A.M.
to suggest I not come out.

It had taken Brad giving Tim his phone so that I could hear from my brother’s own lips that it was best if I didn’t come down. I was disappointed and half-mad that everyone thought I didn’t have the sense to behave properly in a court of law. Then I remembered how I had almost decked Calvin Bright last night and, with a sigh, I realized they were all right. Knowing it and liking it were two different things, though.

I’d only had one customer since Grandma Ruth had left.
John Emerson, a farmer/rancher who was dating police dispatcher Sarah Hogginboom, stopped by. He was a real regular and arrived on time to pick up Sarah’s favorite breakfast Danish and a cinnamon roll for himself.

“How bad is it out there?” I asked him as he filled two thermoses with coffee from the coffee bar.

“The snow isn’t bad. I’ve seen worse. But the wind’s strong enough to blow semis off the road.”

I winced. “The radio’s telling everyone to stay home.”

John tightened lids on the thermoses. “Probably for the best.” He walked over and pulled out his wallet. “I was surprised to find you open.”

“I got here before the storm.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It started at eight last night.”

I felt the heat of embarrassment rise into my cheeks. “Okay, so I came during the storm, but it was really early and the ride wasn’t that bad. Besides, Christmas is baked-goods season.”

“A woman as pretty as you should be at home snuggled up with her man on a day like this. Not working to make baked goods that won’t be delivered until after the storm breaks.” His brown eyes studied me with a steady gaze.

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” I muttered. I hadn’t thought about the delivery guys not working.

“Give me two dozen assorted of your donuts and such,” he said. “I’ll bring them to the police station for the guys who are out in the weather today.”

“You are always so thoughtful,” I said and quickly folded up two boxes and filled them. “When is Sarah going to make an honest man out of you?”

John laughed a deep sound that bounced off the bakery walls. “She’s waiting for me to ask her.”

I looked at him. “You haven’t asked her yet?”

“Waiting for the right time.” He put his credit card on top of the counter and took the boxes from me. “I want to
be the last guy who asks her to marry him. It needs to be the right time, and from what I understand, these days it needs to be something big and unforgettable. I’m still working on the
unforgettable
part.”

I ran his card through the card reader and ripped off the receipt for him to sign. “Trust me, how you ask isn’t as important as asking.”

He signed the paper and smiled. “Yeah, I know, but Sarah deserves a big, showy proposal.” He winked, took his receipt and the donuts and coffee, and went out into the howling wind and icy snow.

My heart squeezed in my chest. Sarah was a lucky woman.

My cell rang and I answered it. “This is Toni.”

“Hi, Toni, it’s Meghan. The radio says the roads are closed and anyone found out on the street will be ticketed.” She sounded upset. “The college is closed as well. Do you need me to come in? I’m thinking I could skate on down there.”

I laughed at the idea of her skating down in one of her vintage dresses and her big black steel-toed boots. “No, stay home. I’m good here. John’s the only one who came in.” I glanced at the swirling snow. “I can handle any stragglers who show up.”

“What about the cookie list?” she said. “We were planning on creating all the dough for the Saturday delivery.”

“John tells me that all the deliveries aren’t running today. Which means all the Christmas deliveries will be backed up by Saturday. If I do any baking, it will be to freeze it for deliveries later.”

“Cool,” she said. “Hey, do you want me to post on social media about the weather and the delay? I can get into the website from my phone.”

“That would be helpful,” I said and walked into the back of the kitchen. “Stay safe and warm.”

“You, too.”

I hung up the phone and placed it on the counter and stood in the early morning quiet of the kitchen. Scrubbing my hands over my tired eyes, I shrugged. First things first: triage the items that weren’t baked yet. I popped the proofing bread dough back into the icebox. The cookies and muffins baking could be frozen and reheated later for a fresh taste. The paper with the long list of orders fluttered as the doorbells jangled. Who else was out in the middle of a raging storm? I wiped my hands on the tea towel I had tucked into my apron strings.

“Be right out,” I called and closed the fridge door on the half-finished baked goods. When I pushed through the kitchen door, I saw that my mystery customer was none other than Sam Greenbaum. “Hi, what brings you out in this storm?”

“I had an emergency handyman call,” Sam said. His hazel gaze eyed me warmly. The man always took my breath away. His dark brown hair was cut long and fell into his eyes like a little boy’s. But there was nothing boyish about him. His strong jaw, wide shoulders, tight backside, and long legs came straight out of a romance novel.

“Who would call you out in this weather?” I leaned against the cash register to steady myself from the pure masculine onslaught of his smile.

“Mrs. McGregor’s pilot light on her furnace blew out in the wind. She had to call. When I got there this morning, the inside temperature of her house was close to freezing.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” I said. “Isn’t she in her seventies?”

“Yeah.” He sat his Stetson on the counter and brushed the hair from his eyes. “I lit her furnace pilot light and stayed with her until the temperature was over sixty-eight degrees. Once this storm clears, I need to go back and check her roof and air intake to see if there isn’t some way to prevent that from happening again.”

“You deserve coffee after your morning.” I pulled a mug
and saucer from the shelf, turned it right side up, and handed it to him. “Help yourself. It’s on me.”

“You do make the best coffee in town—but don’t tell my gram I said that.” He winked and poured his coffee.

“How is your gram? Did she like the cookies and cakes you bought? Is there something else she might prefer?”

“She loved them. She always does. I was heading out to check on Gram when I saw your light.” He wrapped his long, steady hand around the mug. “The prospect of a cup of this coffee had me parking in a no-parking zone.” He nodded toward the front windows. I could make out the outline of his big black pickup truck parked next to the fire hydrant just north of the bakery.

“I doubt anyone will be out in this weather to give you a ticket.”

“I left it running just in case.” He winked. “I’ll tell them I wasn’t parking. I’m standing.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t that waste gas?”

He took a drink of coffee and pure pleasure washed over his face. My hormones decided to take notice of his half-closed lids and had my heartbeat picking up. “Good coffee,” he said. “Well worth the waste of gas.”

“Thanks.” For the second time today I felt the heat of a blush rush up my neck and into my cheeks. “Do you want to take a thermos?” I waved my shaking hand toward the thermoses for sale on the rack beside the coffee. “Otherwise I’ll most likely end up dumping it. I like to keep a fresh pot, and there isn’t exactly a stampede of customers in this storm.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer,” he said. “But I want to pay for the thermos. And box me up a couple dozen assorted goodies.” He waved at the glass counter. “I’ll take them to Gram’s and put them out in her lobby. It will make the seniors in her complex happy.”

“Oh, okay.” I turned from staring at his capable hands
and folded up three big boxes. “Everything is half price,” I rambled on, trying to distract myself from the promise in his gaze. “I have a feeling it will all end up in the day-old section.”

“My guess is more people will come out for your baked goods than you think.”

I looked up at him and his smile dazzled. I swear he had to practice that smile in the mirror. It always sent shivers down to my toes. “I doubt they’ll be as willing to waste gas as you are.”

His grin widened. “Actually it’s better to keep the car running in this cold. It keeps the engine warm. Therefore it’s technically not wasting anything.”

Okay, why did that feel like a double entendre?

“I told Meghan to stay home.” I grasped for a subject, any subject, that felt safe and kept me from thinking about the fact that I was alone with a sexy man in the middle of a raging blizzard and there was a cot in my office. Ugh. Why had I had to swear off dating? All it seemed to have done was make me even more stupid around a good-looking man.

“I figured,” he said and watched me stuff the boxes full of baked goods. “The radio said that the college campus was closed.”

“I think everything is closed but me.” I concentrated on closing the tops on the overfull boxes. “Even the roads.”

“Definitely the highways,” Sam said and snagged a donut out of the box I hadn’t closed yet. He took a bite and closed his eyes. I couldn’t help but watch. When he opened his eyes his pupils were wide and the look between us went straight to my stomach. “I can swing back by here if you decide to close up shop.”

The spit in my mouth dried up. “Why?”

“Give you a ride home.” He tilted his head. “I highly doubt that delivery van of yours can stay on the road in this wind.”

“Oh, right.” I rang up his order. “That will be twenty-five eighty-eight.”

“Did you include two thermoses?” He waved the thermoses.

“That includes both,” I said and took his card.

“I don’t know how you can stay in business if you keep giving the store away.” He winked at me.

I swallowed hard. “I consider today’s baked goods a loss anyway.” I stuffed a business card in each pink-and-white-striped box, then stacked them, one on top of the other. “Now I can consider this promotion as well.” I pulled a flyer off the countertop and slapped it on top of the boxes. “I’m offering a buy one, get one half off on cookies.”

“Just in time for the cookie exchange.” He studied the flyer and pursed his mouth and nodded. “Smart.”

“Thanks.” It was my turn to brush the unruly hair from my face. A movement in the window caught my eye. A cop car with flashing blue and red lights pulled up behind his pickup truck. “Uh-oh,” I said and pointed. “Looks like you’d better run.”

Sam grinned and planted a warm kiss on my cheek as he gathered up the boxes and thermoses of coffee. “Call me if you need a ride home. I doubt I’ll be going out to the ranch house any time soon. Storm time is prime time for handymen.”

“Take care,” I called after him. He put his Stetson on his head and went out the door backward to block the wind, gloved hands full of pink-and-white boxes.

He wore a heavy, lined duster made of brown leather. It opened at the front, revealing his denim-clad legs and sturdy cowboy boots. In my mind’s eye I imagined he wore a colored tee shirt with some kind of flannel western shirt over the top.

I watched as he unlocked his pickup door, waved at the cop, shoved the boxes into the pickup, climbed in, and drove
away. My jaw hung open. I couldn’t believe he’d just left like that. If anyone in my family brazenly broke the law—not that we ever did—and then drove off, we’d be taken in handcuffs to the police station.

The thought reminded me that my brother Tim should be out by now. Grandma was going to pay his bail. I should probably call him and Grandma Ruth and see what was up. I took a step toward the back and pulled my cell phone from my apron pocket when the door jangled open. A gust of icy wind and snow rushed in as Officer Strickland pushed the door closed behind him.

“Hello,” I said and dropped the cell back into my pocket.

Officer Strickland took off his plastic-covered police issue hat and brushed the snow off it and his shoulders. “Morning, Ms. Holmes.” He wore a heavy leather coat with cream-colored shirred lining. A white shirt peeked out around his neck. His legs were clad in standard cowboy denim and his feet encased in dark leather cowboy boots. “I was surprised to see you open in this storm.”

I stood my ground in front of the man who’d helped incriminate my brother. “I was here before it got too bad, and I felt it best to sit tight now that it’s in full bloom.”

He stuck out his lower lip and nodded in a quick agreement. “Sounds sensible. Do you have any coffee left or did Greenbaum drink it all?”

I glanced at the empty glass carafes. “I have some in the back. Hold on.” I made my way around the counter, picked up the hot pots, and turned off the warmer plates.

“Do you have enough to fill a thermos?”

I whirled to find him right behind me. I took a step back and sent him an awkward smile. “Sure. I’ll bring it out.”