Murder By Muffin (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 3)

“Are you sure you’re all right?” I ask him.

His color is back now. “Your mom sure does seem to like Fontaine.”

“She has plans.”

“Do your plans match up with hers?”

That’s the million-dollar question.

“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “What was Tara going to use against you and Sarah during the cooking competition?” he asks.

I blink. “Where did that come from?”

“I just remembered there was something in those notes about everyone except you.”

I was wondering when someone was going to ask me that.

“That’s because I tore those pages up. Believe me, we weren’t exempt from the notebook from hell. Tara had a couple of angles, neither of which were pretty.”

“I’m listening.”

“She was going to try to pit Sarah and I against one another by saying that Sarah was jealous of me because everyone comes to The Bistro for my muffins. Which is totally not true. Sarah’s mac and cheese is one of our best sellers.”

“And the other angle?”

I hesitate.

“Lu-cy,” he says, imitating Ricky Ricardo from the old I Love Lucy shows, something my brother does all the time. It usually raises a giggle from me, but I’m not in a laughing mood.

He leans in closer, and the air in the room immediately goes thick.

Does he feel it too?

Neither of us says anything.

“Lucy,” he says again in that silly voice, only this time much quieter.

I look up at him. Mistake! Those blue eyes of his bore right through me like he can read my mind. There’s no way out of it. And the thing is, I don’t want to find a way. It’s time to tell Will how I feel.

“Way back in one of the first interviews we did for the show, Tara asked me what I would do with my portion of the prize money if The Bistro were to win the twenty-five grand. I told her I’d pay off the money you loaned me for the down payment. I have no idea how she knew ... Maybe she was more intuitive than I gave her credit for, but somehow, she figured out that I have a thing for you. She was going to create this whole sad romantic story about me pining away for my best friend. It was pathetic really. I think she thought it would soften up the other story lines she was creating.”

Will looks at me hard. “You have a thing for me?”

I nod.

“As in, a romantic thing?” he clarifies.

I nod again, too terrified to say anything because the way he’s looking at me, it’s as if—

“Guess what, Lucy? I have a thing for you too.”

He cups the back of my head and leans in to kiss me

Will. Is. Kissing. Me.

I kiss him back.