Page 56 of Something’s Brewing

Garrett eyed his cookie like it might explode. “I don’t trust Lily.”

Madison laughed. “Open it.”

He picked it up and broke it in half with exaggerated caution. A few crumbs scattered across the plate as he pulled out the slip and squinted at it. His brows drew together. Then he groaned.

“What?” She leaned forward. “What does it say?”

He hesitated long enough to make her even more curious before finally reading it aloud.

“ ‘Kiss the girl.’ ”

She blinked. Then laughed—a soft, startled sound that quickly faded. “Well,” she said, trying to sound teasing and failing just a little. “That’s . . . very direct.”

“Probably because we’ve kept our kissing out of Town Talk for now.”

“Yay for us,” Madison said.

The air suddenly felt charged, like the whole night had been building toward this moment.

Garrett reached for her. His fingers closed around her hand slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. The warmth of his palm against hers sent a steady ripple of awareness through her, grounding and dizzying all at once.

He stood, still holding her hand. Her heart began to pound.

She rose too, drawn toward him. The scents of ginger and citrus lingered in the air. A light breeze through the screen rustled the curtains.

His free hand lifted gently to her waist, steadying her as their lips met—soft at first, then the kiss deepened. Warmth spread through her chest. When they finally pulled apart, it was only by inches, their foreheads nearly touching, their breath mingling.

Garrett smiled, his thumbs brushing lightly over her knuckles. “I’ll have to thank Lily next time I see her.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Frankie juggled her grocery bags as she made her way up the stairs toward her third-floor studio apartment just outside of town. She didn’t feel like cooking tonight, and she didn’t have the money to eat out.

Good thing she hadn’t been hungry lately. With the evidence she’d gathered about the mayor’s questionable dealings, she felt sick to her stomach most of the time, worrying she’d be found out. Her goal was to remain as cheerful as possible at work so he wouldn’t suspect anything, but remaining upbeat and acting as she always had around her boss, even when she was belittled, was taking a toll. The only reason she put up with his slimy personality was that she needed the job. Yesterday at work, she about jumped out of her chair when Mayor Benson dropped his water bottle. She needed to calm down and focus on her work.

A chill crawled up her spine as she approached her apartment door. It was open. She backed up and set her bags down, then grabbed the mace from her purse and listened. She inched forward toward her unit and peered inside. Her stomach dropped.

Her small studio apartment was trashed. Her kitchen drawers were yanked out. Couch cushions slashed open and thrown aside. Framed photos on her wall were shattered, glass glittering across the carpet like ice. Someone wanted what she’d taken, and she was glad she had handed it over to Madison. Tears gathered in her eyes and she began to shake. Her pulse roared in her ears. She pulled her phone out from her back pocket, hands trembling, and dialed 9-1-1.

The call was picked up almost immediately. “Nine-one-one⁠—”

“Please, my apartment’s been broken into,” Frankie said, just above a whisper. “Everything’s—everything’s destroyed.”

The dispatcher told her not to enter her home and to remain on the line. Frankie sank onto the floor across the hall, arms wrapped around herself as she waited. Minutes later, red-and-blue lights flashed through the building’s upper front windows. Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairwell.

“Frankie?” a familiar voice called as an officer stepped onto the third-floor landing.

She looked up. “Kevin?” Relief softened the panic in her voice.

The last time she’d seen Kevin—or Sawyer, as everyone else referred to him—they’d been laughing awkwardly at their fifth-class reunion. Now he stood in uniform, hand on the weapon at his waist. “Frankie, are you okay?” he asked, his voice rough with concern.

She nodded, her throat dry. “I wasn’t here when it happened. I—I just got home.”

“Wait here.” He stepped inside, boots crunching over glass. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, his face darkening as he scanned the wreckage.

After clearing the small apartment, he joined her in the hallway. “It’s clear. They tore your place apart.”

“I can see that,” she whispered, clutching her arms tighter around herself while standing in the doorway.