Murder By Muffin (Lucy McGuffin, Psychic Amateur Detective 3) - Page 67
“Oh, all right.” I hand over counter duty to Jill and follow Travis to the hallway that leads to the pantry. “Before you tell me whatever it is you’re about to tell me, let me just say that I’m not exactly in the mood for a lecture right now.”
“Tough. What did I tell you about leaving the police work to the actual police? Do you know Zeke got four calls this morning telling him that you’re a menace to this town?”
I can’t help but bristle. Less than a week ago, I was a hero. Ha! Fame sure can be fickle. “Menace? Someone actually used that word?”
“Let me be more specific. Mark Dalton called you a busybody, Heidi Burrows says that since you’ve been lucky enough to solve a few murders it’s all gone to your head and—”
“I’m the one with a big head? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What did you think you were going to accomplish by calling a meeting and accusing everyone of poisoning Tara?”
“I thought I’d solve a murder since the police don’t seem to be having much luck in that department.”
Travis stares me down. He’s standing so close to me I can smell his aftershave. Something woodsy and cleanly masculine. Very nice. There’s also the uniform. I’ve never been attracted to men in uniform before, but I have to admit, on Travis, it looks rather hot.
“Are you going to kiss me again?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
“You wish.”
My heart is pounding against my ribcage like it’s trying to find a way out. I can’t help but giggle. Not because I think any of this is funny but because I’m suddenly so nervous I can barely breathe.
“Have you told Will yet? About your childish crush on him?”
“It’s not childish. And … no. I’ve tried, but we keep getting interrupted.”
“Tell him, Lucy, because I’m getting impatient here.”
I decide to change the subject before I do something I might regret. Like kiss Travis myself. “Since my plan to catch Tara’s killer didn’t quite work, maybe you can tell me what the police are doing?”
“Officially, we’re still waiting for the toxicology report. It’s an open case.”
“In other words, nothing. And now two of the suspects in the case have skedaddled off to Canada.”
“I have my theories,” he says tightly.
“Oh, yeah? What?”
“Never you mind.” His gaze lingers on my mouth a second too long.
Oh boy. He is going to kiss me again.
Instinctively, I close my eyes and wait for it.
But nothing happens. When I open my eyes again, he’s grinning down at me.
“Tell Cunningham how you feel, Lucy. Then we’ll see what happens next.”
By one the lunch crowd has thinned out enough that I’m able to get back in the kitchen to get a head start on tomorrow’s muffins. I make a batch of blueberry and double chocolate chip and try not to think about my encounter with Travis in the hallway. Baking has always been cathartic for me, but today it isn’t doing the trick.
Then we’ll see what happens next.
Like it’s all up to him and I have no say in it at all.
I gather up all the dirty tins and bowls and place them in the large industrial sink and start scrubbing away. “Travis’s head is so big, I’m surprised it hasn’t exploded by now.”
Paco’s ears perk up. He turns his head to the side the way dogs do when they look as if they’re trying to figure out what you’re saying. “Okay, so I admit it, I kind of have a thing for Travis Fontaine. But … I also have a big thing for Will.” I dry off my hands and turn to face my smarty-pants dog. “Who should I go for? Will? Or Travis?”
Paco wags his tail.
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