Page 53 of Big Bang

“They’re an acquired taste,” I agree. “Like cheap wine or really stinky cheese. You have to develop a palate for the chaos.”

“I think I’m acquiring it,” Cooper says, spinning me under his arm before pulling me back against his chest with a smooth move that suggests he’s been practicing or is naturally gifted at the art of romantic dance floor navigation.

The song comes to an end, the crowd thins, and the entire night seems to exhale.

Loretta takes off with her newfound cowboy, while Nona Jo gives Flip what appears to be her phone number written on a napkin.

I’m sure he still has a rotary phone he could put to good use.

Cooper and I settle onto a bench by the water as Watson wedges himself between us as if he’s enforcing cuddle policy. The lake laps gently against the shore, and the last of the festival lights creates patterns on the water that look like liquid stars.

Cooper wraps his arm around me. “Do you think this town will stay quiet for a while?”

I lean into him, feeling a contentment that comes from solving murders, saving relationships, and successfully avoiding assassinating anyone despite significant family pressure to do otherwise.

“Are you kidding?” I say, watching the last of the fireworks reflect off the water while Watson nods off with his head on my feet. “This is Honey Hollow. I give it two weeks before someone else turns up dead and I’m back to investigating a murder while trying to maintain my cover as a sweet baker who definitely doesn’t carry firearms to family picnics.”

Did I just saycover?

Cooper belts out a laugh that echoes right over the lake—and there’s something in his eyes that makes me wonder exactly how much he’s figured out about my side hustle.

Some Fourth of July celebrations end with quiet reflection. Ours ends with wet clothes, a rescued weapon, and the strong suspicion this is the calm before the next disaster.

In Honey Hollow, peace and quiet never last—they just take a short break.