Deadly Vows Read online

  He followed her into the kitchen. “What’s that?”

  Leaving the flowers on the counter, she opened the fridge, took out two bottles of water and passed him one. She left hers on the counter so she could grab Tigger’s bowl. “You’ll be hanging around more than usual.”

  He snagged her wrist as she was slipping past him, with a grin that made his eyes crinkle.

  “You’re pretty funny,” he said, stroking a hand down her hair with a look of affection that made her stomach flip-flop.

  It was just the wedding and his good looks, his easy personality making her feel…dreamy. She poked him in the stomach teasingly. “It’s a backup if editing news doesn’t work out. Speaking of which, I met the mother of the bride today and the chef. I’d like to see if I can convince her to do an interview for the paper. So this could work out in my favor.”

  Grabbing Tigger’s bowl, she headed to the sink, then added, “Other than not getting some time to ourselves, I mean.”

  Sam laughed and took the toy Tigger offered, hanging onto it so the dog could tug the other end.

  “Uh-huh. Nice save.” His phone buzzed and he took it out, glanced at it. “I’ve got to go up and help my mom grab a ladder from the garage then I’ll set the food out. See you up there?”

  She put Tigger’s bowl down and came over to stand in front of him. Tigger trotted over to his water and took a noisy slurp.

  “I’m going to change and then I’ll be up,” she said, stepping into him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “And also, I’m really glad you’ll be around lots.”

  Being scared to open her heart didn’t mean she couldn’t return his generous affection, in both words and actions.

  His squeeze and kiss on the top of her head warmed her from the inside out and made her want to hang on just a bit longer. Instead, she stepped back.

  * * * *

  When she took the path to the main house, Tigger on a leash at her side, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “It looks like a real life fairy tale,” she told the dog. He didn’t love the leash, but with all of the tents and chairs, she didn’t want to chance him getting curious. Like her, it was in his nature.

  A large picture window at the side of the house showed the guests laughing as they sat around Katherine’s long, rustic dining table. Molly wondered what Ms. Skyler was preparing for the evening. Rounding the small bend beside the driveway, she saw Katherine and Sam already seated. As she approached, they both saw her and Sam stood, taking Tigger’s leash when she came up the steps.

  The back porch was much smaller than the front, but it was quaint with a patio table, chairs, and a couple of benches furnishing it. It was a perfect spot to sit and read the paper while drinking coffee. Since her arrival, Molly had ensured that the guests had the latest edition of the Britton Bay Bulletin available.

  “There’s my guy,” Katherine said, patting her legs so Tigger would come to her.

  He tripped over his paws on the way there, his tail doing a tornado-speed wag. Sam pulled Molly’s chair out and pushed it in when she sat.

  “You’ve certainly raised a gentleman, Katherine,” Molly said, smiling at him then looking at Katherine.

  “I should hope so,” his mom replied.

  Happy to just be near them, Tigger flopped down under the table while they passed the take-out containers of chicken, salad, and biscuits. A fresh pitcher of lemonade sat in the center of the table and Molly poured a glass for each of them.

  There was a small window over the sink in the kitchen, but Molly didn’t see anyone through it. She was hoping to run into Skyler at some point before the evening was over.

  “How’s it going in there?” Molly bit into her chicken, sighing in delight as she looked at Katherine.

  “Good. They’re probably the highest maintenance bunch I’ve had, but to be fair, weddings can be stressful and I’ve never had any big events here—other than milestone birthdays and such.”

  “You know the bride’s mom, right?” Sam asked, a forkful of salad half-way to his mouth.

  “I went to school with her. We weren’t friends, but I remember walking by this house when she lived in it and thinking it was the prettiest one around.”

  Molly looked around, admiring the way the sun still clung to the sky, just over the wide expanse of trees. “It really is a perfect spot.”

  She already knew that Katherine had done several renovations to make some smaller rooms out of larger ones, add the backyard cottage, and spruce up the landscaping. She hired out for big jobs—or had Sam help her—but she was always working, always making it just a little bit…more.

  Sam dropped a bite of his chicken on the porch and the scramble of paws was instantaneous. Molly narrowed her eyes at him, despite the innocent grin he flashed her.

  “What? It slipped.”

  Katherine laughed. “A gentleman and a lousy liar.”

  “Hey,” Sam protested, dropping another small bite.

  “Enough. He’ll get sick.” She took another bite of chicken and the crispy buttermilk skin practically melted in her mouth. “Besides, it’s a waste of amazing food. They should have just had Calliope and Dean cater.”

  Katherine leaned in. “Nothing small-town for Patty’s daughter. Other than location I mean.”

  Sam licked his fingers, then picked up his napkin. “Small towns have the best kept secrets.”

  Molly looked at him, her heart doing that strange, tight-squeeze thing again. They certainly do. “What do the next few days look like?”

  Tigger lay down on her foot, which kept her from tapping it on the deck.

  Katherine wiped her mouth and glanced back at the kitchen. “I’ve been given an extensive itinerary so I can be very specific if you’d like, but to sum it up, there’s a brunch tomorrow with some of Patty’s family who still live in the area. The gals have a spa day planned after that, and the kitchen will be busy with the chef and her staff getting things ready. I guess they’ll provide simple lunches and family style meals until the rehearsal dinner, which I’ve heard is going to be almost as fancy as the wedding. Sunday afternoon, everything gets taken down and I’ve got guests coming in on Tuesday.”

  Sam swallowed his last bite of food and frowned at his mom. “That’s not a lot of turnaround time.”

  Katherine waved her fork at him. “Don’t start with me. It’s plenty.” She looked at Molly, one brow arched. “He likes to pretend I’m old and feeble. Thinks I need a week in between guests just to make some beds.”

  Rolling his eyes, Sam crumpled his napkin and tossed it on his plate. “I just don’t want you overdoing it. When you started this, it was a few guests a month. Now you’re constantly booked solid. I think you should start bringing in some help for the turnaround days after long-term guests or a full house.”

  Molly gave Sam a supportive nod. They’d talked about this, as it had been weighing on his mind. She didn’t have the same worries he did, but cleaning her tiny place took her half a day, so she could certainly see his concern with Katherine taking on a full house with barely a day in between. That didn’t even include laundry and stocking up on provisions.

  “I’ll think about it,” Katherine said, pushing her plate away.

  Sam grinned like he won the lottery. “Really? That was easy.”

  Molly nudged him with her foot. “Best not to gloat.”

  Katherine laughed then looked down at her plate, which had Sam’s lips tilting down.

  “Mom?”

  She looked at Sam and Molly felt like she should give them a minute. Before she could excuse herself, Katherine put her hand over Sam’s on the table.

  “It was easy because as much as I love doing this, I wouldn’t mind having a few hours to myself now and again. Time to do something just for me. Get my nails done, see a movie. Go on a date.”

  Molly’s
eyes widened just as Sam’s jaw dropped and he asked, “Excuse me? A date?”

  Katherine sat back, removing her hand and stiffening her shoulders, giving Sam a look Molly imagined she had long ago when he’d said something naughty. “Yes. A date. I’m a grown woman and I’m entitled. Brandon has asked me several times now and I don’t want to keep saying no.”

  Sam sat forward. “Brandon? Wait—the sheriff?”

  Molly bit her lip. She could have predicted that. Through a series of unfortunate events, Molly had spent some time with the sheriff while she’d been caught in the middle of Clay’s father’s murder investigation. Vernon East had not been a nice man, but no one deserved that sort of end. The sheriff was kind and trustworthy and, when he thought no one was looking, completely enamored with Sam’s mom.

  “Uh, I’m just going to use the washroom. Okay if I use the one off of the kitchen or should I go down to my place?” Molly stood, putting her napkin on her plate.

  Katherine glanced at her, still sitting stiffly with a frown on her face. “Use this one. I’m sure it’s fine. Not like they’re eating in the kitchen.”

  On her way by, Molly gave Sam’s shoulder a squeeze. Tigger lifted his head, but put it back down when she told him to stay. Letting herself into the mudroom just off of the kitchen, she removed her shoes and stepped into the kitchen.

  Skyler was standing, alone, with her head bowed and her hands gripping the counter. The scents were incredible—herbs and spices, and something sweet. It almost made Molly forget she was full. Giving Sam and his mom a minute had worked out perfectly.

  Skyler turned and looked at her and before Molly could say anything, the chef pointed at her and asked, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Chapter Four

  Molly froze and almost looked behind her to make sure Skyler was, in fact, addressing her. The chef snarled and stalked toward her, quick enough that Molly stepped back, coming up against the door.

  “I’m going to use the washroom,” she said, hooking her thumb toward the door and thinking quickly. “I was having dinner with my boyfriend and his mom, Katherine.”

  Skyler stopped about a foot from Molly. Loud laughter floated in from the dining area. The angry creases in the corners of her eyes smoothed.

  “You’re a reporter. You just happen to be dining here?” She shoved her hands in the pockets of her black chef pants. Her hair was pulled away from her face with a thin, tight headband and with the unhappy set of her jaw, the chef looked even more severe than this morning.

  “You’re forgetting you’re in a small town. I live in the cottage on the property. I’m dating Katherine Alderich’s son. She lives here. We’re having dinner.”

  Molly wasn’t a reporter but at the moment, she wanted to know why that would have made the chef so mad.

  Some of the stiffness fell from the woman’s shoulders and she lost the edge on her expression. Her face was neutral, but compared to her scowl, it made her almost approachable. Molly wondered if the pressure of this event or what came after it was responsible for the bags under the chef’s eyes.

  “Also, I’m an editor for a small-town paper. Not a reporter. Huge difference there.”

  “Well, you can understand why I’d make the mistake. I’m tired of people asking me how I feel about winning and what if was like to win prize money. I just want to cook.”

  If that was Skyler’s version of an apology, Molly sincerely hoped she was better at cooking. The door leading to the dining area pushed open and two people—one woman and one man—in aprons walked in, smiling and chatting. They froze, staring at Molly and Skyler, the door swinging behind them. Skyler’s shoulders tightened again and her scowl reappeared. She turned and glared at them.

  “Done socializing? About time. The next round is ready to go. Lucky for you it’s a cold plate or it’d be ruined.”

  These people were not children, yet they each looked as if they’d been scolded by their parent. The guy stared at Skyler a moment, his eyes intense and she shifted, but didn’t say a word, just held his gaze. The woman frowned and Molly thought she saw a flash of anger in the flare of her nostrils and the set of her eyes, but she schooled it and turned away. In unison, both the man and the woman muttered apologies as they moved to the food and each took what they could hold, which was an impressive four plates each. Molly had tried waitressing for exactly half a day before realizing she’d spend more money replacing dishes than she’d earn.

  Turning back to her, Skyler’s eyes went to the door. “Aren’t they waiting for you?”

  She wasn’t going to get another chance to ask and the very worst she could say was no. Molly had heard no before. She could live with it. Okay, she could probably do a little worse than no since she’s staring daggers your way.

  “It must be hard to have so many people coming at you when all you want to do is cook.”

  Surprise widened Skyler’s light-colored eyes. “It is. I’m pulled in a dozen different directions. The distractions impact my cooking.” Hooking a thumb over her shoulder, she added, “Right now it’s just my sous chefs, but for the wedding there’ll be a dozen servers in the way as well.” Some might look forward to the many hands assisting them, but Skyler was clearly not one of them.

  Molly leaned against the counter in a hopefully casually stance. “I’m not a reporter, but I do write articles. I’d love to do something unique on you, Skyler. Maybe something about how you both fuel yourself and provide for others through your creations.”

  Skyler’s brow arched. “What’s in it for you?”

  Molly wasn’t taking the bait on that one. It could be absolutely nothing in it for her. “Finding the oyster.”

  The chef scowled. “Excuse me?” Her tone nearly as sharp as a knife.

  Molly straightened. All or nothing. “I’m offering a peek at the woman underneath. Inside the shell so to speak. You’re clearly passionate about your cooking. What does it do for you? What does it give you? How does it help you give back? Those are the things you want people to understand.”

  The frown slipped so Molly pressed the advantage. “I read a number of articles and interviews about your success and who you want to emulate. As you said, there was a lot of focus on the prize money and your win. I’d like to do an interview that focuses on what makes you unique and cutting edge in the culinary industry. If you’re interested. If not, no hard feelings.”

  The sous chefs, who were doubling as waiters, returned as Skyler continued to stare at Molly. The woman’s eyes roamed over both Skyler and Molly. Her ponytail seemed far too high to be comfortable. Dressed like the guy, she wore a crisp white shirt, buttoned to the neck and a pair of black pants. Her gaze bounced back and forth between Molly and the chef. “Everything all right?”

  Skyler turned her head. “Any reason it shouldn’t be?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You just seem tense and since tonight is only a sample of some of the dishes and it’s going well, I wondered why.”

  Good question. She isn’t even in the middle of preparing anything and she’s strung tighter than the sous chef’s ponytail.

  “Just because tonight isn’t full of pressure, doesn’t mean we can rest easy.”

  The woman nodded. “Sorry for asking.” Molly couldn’t help but think the woman often was—sorry for asking her boss anything.

  Skyler gave an exasperated sigh. “Fine. We need baked goods for the morning. Apparently I’m a damn pastry chef now, too.”

  “They did offer to bring in the baking,” the woman said in a low voice, her eyes averted.

  Skyler turned her entire body in the woman’s direction and waited until her sous chef raised her head and met her gaze. “My kitchen, my rules. If you don’t like it, you’re free to go.”

  The other cook nodded and got to work, while Skyler returned her unfriendly gaze to Molly, who felt the need to back up
in the suddenly cramped space. It seemed impossible to her that a grown woman would let someone speak to her in that tone, with that level of disdain. It was one thing to have a grouchy boss, but Skyler took that to a whole new level. She started to tell the woman to never mind the interview because she wasn’t all that sure she wanted to spend more time in her presence.

  Skyler huffed out a breath. “Drop by my hotel room tomorrow morning. Around eight. Twenty minutes is all I can spare so you’d better have your questions ready.”

  Finished with the conversation, she turned her back and went to the counter. Okay then. Something about what she’d said—maybe the way she’d appealed to the woman’s vanity—had worked in her favor and Molly was too excited to let the dismissal bother her. She turned and headed out the door back to Sam and his mom.

  They’d settled their difference of opinion by the time Molly returned, her smile impossible to hide.

  “Uh-oh,” Sam said, grinning back at her. “You have that look.”

  He knew her looks? “What look? I don’t have looks.”

  Katherine laughed. “Oh, yes, you do. And this one says, I got exactly what I wanted.”

  Molly’s head whipped in Katherine’s direction. She knew her looks, too. “You two are sneaky.”

  She sat down and Sam took her hand. “Because we can read you?”

  The thought that they could—that he could—both unnerved and centered her. As an army brat, she’d been used to short-term friendships. In California, the place she’d previously settled the longest, she’d had lots of acquaintances, but only one close friend. Thinking of Tori made her miss her best friend.

  Molly had moved to Britton Bay intending to put down roots, make a life for herself. And while she didn’t think she had trust issues, she was quickly realizing that building that life would include lowering her walls and letting people in. For so many years, the only person she’d let in was Tori. Even with her ex—she’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop and hadn’t even been surprised when it ended. Molly looked at Sam. She’d feel more sadness if something happened to their relationship than she had been over the break-up that brought her here.