Pit Stop: Baby! (Crescent Cove 4)

Her throaty laugh boomed in my ear. “No, I am not. Got some trouble in mind?”

“Maybe. How fast can you get to upstate New York?”

“New York? Crap. I don’t know, couple days.”

“Well, get on that big beautiful bike of yours and come see me. I’ll text you the address.”

“You better make it worth my time.”

“Don’t I always?”

“No.”

“Burns…”

“Okay, yes. But I still think we would be better naked friends.”

“You’d chew me up and spit me out. Pass.”

Her throaty laugh was her reply. She hung up on me. I grinned as I shoved my phone into my pocket and headed up the sidewalk to Brewed Awakening.

Tish Burns was as scary as she was beautiful, but she was also one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t fuck that up by sleeping with her.

Besides, the only one I wanted to get naked with lately was a crazy dark-haired siren. It was time to check up on her with a little coffee in hand.

Surely my luck had to be in somewhere today.

Eight

“These need to be done by three.” Kathy dumped two baskets and a three-foot vase on my work table.

“Three?”

“If you were here on time, it wouldn’t have been an issue. Monty already has a funeral order and I’m working on the Jenkins wedding for tomorrow.”

I bit down on my tongue. “Got it.”

I’d been over three hours late. Kathy didn’t care about my excuses. To be honest, I couldn’t blame her. I’d been pushing the no-sleep thing for too many days. Too afraid to doze off for long in case I tried to sneak into Macy’s place again. Now I was even more afraid of trying to break in. She’d had to change the codes and add the cameras to cover her own ass.

Me wandering around was just plain dangerous, especially with stairs in the mix. I’d jerry-rigged an alarm on my front door. So far, I hadn’t gone down the steps again, but I’d been hitting the fridge pretty hard. My famous peanut butter knives were back in the drawer. I’d even found a potted plant in my crisper before I left for work.

The more I freaked about it, the more it spiraled, but I couldn’t calm down and sleep.

I pulled my phone out and opened up the meditation podcast I’d found. Maybe if I found my center, I could find my pillow without putting it in the fridge too.

I grabbed my pail and headed for the cooler. Eh, this wouldn’t do right now. The meditation podcast made me want to crawl up on one of the carts and take a nap so I switched it out for my favorite true crime podcast. Separating out the flowers I needed according to the form was monotonous and soothing, and the case details gave my busy brain a focus.

By the time I hefted the overflowing pail and returned to my work station, I was invested in the missing person’s case and ready to make these arrangements my bitch. I didn’t mind the bigger projects. It gave me time to stretch my design capabilities. My grandmother had been a florist and taught me the difference between a mum and a carnation before I could read. Following her around the shop and our conversations as we fussed with flowers were some of my favorite memories.

I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to be when I grew up, but this would do for now.

I’d been in every level of retail hell from food service to department stores. I’d done the call center thing, tried insurance temp agencies, and doctor’s offices. I’d even sold ad space at a radio station for six months before the host of the channel had hit on me one too many times. I’d left the mic open during one of his more salacious come-ons and gotten his ass fired.

After that, I’d received a polite severance package with more zeroes than my time there merited to go on my way without suing. I took it as hazard pay and padded my nest egg.

I’d squirreled away information from all of them, but nothing ever quite clicked. Flowers came the closest.

And now I had to prove myself yet again. Seemed that was what I was always doing to get out of one scrape or another.