Wicked Charms (Lizzy and Diesel 3)
“I fixed Lizzy up with a date last night,” Glo said. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but he was very cool. A doctor.”
“He’s a coroner,” I said. “And he smelled like formaldehyde.”
—
I was working with the large pastry bag, piping pink cream cheese frosting onto a dozen cupcakes destined for a birthday party, when Diesel sauntered in.
“Are you ready to go?” Diesel asked me.
“Ready to go where?” I asked. “It’s ten o’clock. I don’t even get done till one.”
“So, five minutes?” Diesel asked.
Clara looked over from her workstation. “Is it important?”
“You know how it is,” Diesel said, picking up one of the cupcakes and taking a bite. “The end of the world, maybe.”
Clara shoved a strand of hair back from her forehead with her forearm. “Only maybe?”
“Probably,” Diesel said.
“If it’s ‘probably’ then Lizzy can have another ‘save the world’ day, but you’re using them up fast,” Clara said.
I wasn’t in a rush to get on with saving the world. I’d been there and done that, and I wasn’t anxious to do it again.
“Why can’t you save the world by yourself?” I asked Diesel. “Why do I have to go along?”
“You have to do your touchy-feely thing. I’m big and strong and smokin’ hot, but I’m not touchy-feely.”
This was all true.
“I’ll be with you as soon as I finish this batch of cupcakes,” I said to Diesel.
“I’ll help,” Diesel said, grabbing a second pastry bag off the counter.
“No! I don’t need help.”
“How hard can it be? You just squeeze the bag, and the stuff comes out.”
Diesel squeezed the bag and pink frosting shot out and hit me in the head.
I rolled my eyes up, as if I could see the gunk that was now stuck in my hair.
“You did that on purpose,” I said to Diesel.
Diesel smiled wide and swiped some frosting off my forehead with his finger. “No, but I like it. It’s a good look for you.”
Glo was standing in the doorway.
“It’s true,” Glo said to me. “Pink is your color.”
“Okay, enough fun,” Diesel said. “We need to get moving. Lots to do, and you have a meeting with Martin Ammon at four.”
Everyone froze.
“Martin Ammon?” Clara asked. “The Martin Ammon?”
“He has a map and a diary that I’d like to see,” Diesel said.