Death and Relaxation (22 page)

Maybe it was just that it was so very clear that I had moved on. Gotten over him. Cooper had broken my heart, but I had healed. I was stronger without him.

There was something satisfying in knowing he knew that.

Billy set the coffees and the white bag of pastries down for me.

“Thanks,” I said.

She flashed me a quick smile and a wink, already turning for the heavy cream to use on her next order.

I made my way over to Cooper.

He lounged in the booth, both arms out across the back of the bench seat, watching me, his eyes on my mouth.

The song in my head kicked up a notch and my headache tightened. I hooked my boot around the leg of the chair and pulled it out, scraping it noisily across the tile floor. I tossed the bag on the table.

“You owe me seven bucks,” I said.

“Sorry about making you get the food.” His eyes were on my eyes. “I had to jump on the table while we had a chance.”

I placed the mocha in front of him and gulped three throat-scorching swallows of my coffee, ignoring him, my headache, the power song, and everything else in the building.

Sweet, sweet caffeine.

“Delaney?”

“Shhhh.” I held up a finger and swallowed fortitude.

Bliss.

He claimed the bear claw. I spun the bag and lifted out my cruller. There was a maple bar in the bag. Had Hogan screwed up our order?

I shot a questioning look over my shoulder at Hogan and held up the bag so he could see. He grinned and gave me a thumbs-up, then smoothly went back to the next order.

I couldn’t help but smile. Maple bar was Jean’s favorite. He knew I’d see her at her shift change and give it to her.

I wondered just how serious it was between Hogan and my youngest sister. Serious enough that he was making me a de facto pastry cupid. He worked early mornings and she worked night shift. I guessed love, and the people in it, always found a way.

“Problem?” Cooper asked around a mouthful of bear claw.

“Not at all.”

“What about us, Delaney?” His voice was softer than I expected, as if he’d already given up hope, but didn’t know it yet. “We were good together. Think we can give it a go?”

“We already gave it a go, Cooper. This is our stop. We’re done.”

He nodded, his eyes flicking away as he drank coffee.

I rubbed at my temple again, wishing the headache would let up. But it only got worse the longer I sat here with him.“So what did you do when you left town?”

He winced. “I, uh, joined a band.”

“Of course you did. Why didn’t you stay with the band?”

His gaze slid to the window, where he stared out at the cloudy day. “I don’t know. I thought… It sounds weird, but I thought maybe I left something here. Maybe I took off when I should have just stayed. So I came home to see if I’d lost…if I’d left something behind.”

“Did you?”

He took a drink of coffee, thinking that over. “Maybe not.” He put his coffee down. “I don’t know. When I’m around you…it feels…right.”

“Cooper…”

“You kissed me,” he said.

“You kissed me,” I corrected. “That was a mistake.”

“It didn’t feel like a mistake.” His eyes were on my lips again, soft and needful.

“Look—”

“Mind if I join you two lovebirds?”

I jerked.

Ryder stood next to the table, a buttermilk twist in one hand, coffee in the other. He wasn’t looking at Cooper, his gaze riveted to mine. And he was smiling.

The look in his eyes was inscrutable. Humor? Curiosity? Mockery? I couldn’t tell. Ryder Bailey knew how to keep his true feelings tucked behind his glowing eyes when he wanted to.

I waved at the booth next to Cooper. “Have a seat.”

“No room,” Cooper said. He didn’t budge, using up bench space that would seat at least two people.

Ryder glanced around the room looking for a spare chair, but the place was full. “It’ll work.” He dropped down so close to the other man that Cooper grunted and moved to one side to keep from getting pinned.

Ryder bit into his twist, still not looking at the man next to him. Which might be because they were sitting so close, they’d have to lean away from each other to actually make eye contact. That could not be a comfortable arrangement.

Cooper pulled one shoulder forward, leaning his elbow on the table.

Ryder sat there, unconcerned, drinking coffee.

“When did you say you were leaving?” Ryder asked.

“I just got here,” Cooper said. “Might never leave.”

“He got a reason to stay, Delaney?” Ryder chewed with nonchalance.

“In the bakery or in Ordinary?”

“I find myself curious to both answers.”

Cooper snorted. “Jackass.”

“Freeloader,” Ryder shot back.

I watched them. Wondered what history between them that I’d missed. Wondered if I’d have to break them up like Odin and Zeus. Seriously, could I not go a day without two men having it out?

“When are you skipping town again?” Ryder asked, still not looking over at him. “I’d like to throw a parade.”

“Get off my back, Bailey. You play Boy Scout, but you’re a liar. Where the hell have you been all these years? College and some fancy job in a big city doesn’t lead a man back to this low-rent shack town. You came back for a reason, and it isn’t a good one.”

Ryder didn’t show any reaction to that except for his eyes. For the first time since he’d sat, he looked down, looked sideways.

If I were trained to read body language, to interrogate, to read people, I’d say Cooper had hit too close to secrets Ryder didn’t want to tell. I might even think Ryder was sizing up how many times he could sucker-punch Cooper before I stopped him.

“Take it outside, Reserve Officer Bailey,” I said calmly. “You might not be on the clock, but that won’t keep me from arresting you for disturbing the peace.”

Ryder’s gaze flicked up. Eyes filled with heat, mouth curved at one corner into a wicked smile, he did not look like someone willing to apologize for his behavior, nor worried about arrest. His tongue tip slipped at the bottom of his lip, which he then bit.

My own mouth went dry. The brief touch of teeth on the soft swell of his lower lip, the heat in his eyes telling me he liked the idea of being on the wrong side of the law—or maybe just liked the idea of me manhandling him.

An entirely different kind of heat shot through me, leaving an electric hum deep in my belly.

Maybe Cooper was right about one thing: Ryder Bailey was no Boy Scout.

Ryder shifted, the heat, the wicked smile, stowed away. “Sorry, chief. I’m not here to cause trouble.” The sparkle in his eyes said differently.

You, Mr. Bailey,
are
trouble.

He popped the last of his donut in his mouth and leaned back. “I like this town, Cooper. Low rent or not, it has always been good to me. If you don’t like it, I hear the casino’s looking for talent. They need a guitarist.”

And this was helpful Ryder. The guy I’d always known to offer a hand even before someone asked for it. Even if that person was someone Ryder didn’t particularly like.

Like Cooper Clark.

“I don’t need your help,” Cooper said.

The song of power throbbed behind my temples, and the coffee wasn’t settling well in my stomach. I took a couple deep breaths to try to settle both, but the hot, damp air wasn’t doing me any good.

“Delaney?” Ryder said.

I stood up. “I need some air.”

“Let me—” he started.

“See you at the station,” I said.

I wove through the patrons and out the door, the bag with Jean’s maple bar clenched in my left hand, the song of power rolling like a drunken choir going through tune-up with a rusty band in my head.

The cool air hit my face, and I swallowed it down until the noise leveled off and my stomach evened out. I’d forgotten my coffee on the table, but I was not about to go back for it.

I rubbed at my eyes and the foggy creep of fatigue that was dogging my thoughts. I’d have to sleep soon. But not yet. Today I had to try to make headway on suspects for Heim’s death, and time was slipping away for finding a mortal to hand this power over to.

I had no idea who in this town might be the new Heimdall.

It wasn’t like every mortal was made for taking on a god power.

That much I knew. Dad had said there must be a fire in the person. Not necessarily one of anger or aggression, but something he described as sharp—a clarity that the power was drawn to. He said the mortal who was made for the god power was tempered like hard metal. Driven. They knew who they were, and remained true to their nature no matter what life threw at them.

That made sense. I’d seen five Poseidons over the years. All of them were cocksure about their ability to control the sea even before they’d taken on the power. And all of them had done something stupid on vacation here in Ordinary and gotten themselves drowned.

So, yes. There was a similarity in the mortals before they had taken the power, even though one of the Poseidons had been a woman.

Maybe that meant I was looking for someone who carried the same traits as Heim.

I started the Jeep and rolled out into traffic.

What did I know about Heim? He shied away from commitment, off on his boat for weeks at a time, sometimes leaving whale watchers without a ride out, which Pete, one of the other boat captains, always seemed willing to pick up the slack for.

He’d fallen in love with Lila. And he’d broken her heart, saying he needed something different in his life, as if he were looking for a new horizon.

I knew she’d never picked up the pieces of her life in town or her business here. She’d left, and hadn’t returned until now.

I supposed Heim was a loyal friend. He and Chris got along great. When he wasn’t wandering toward the edges of the horizon, Heim seemed happy enough doing his job—fishing and guiding tourists.

Somehow Bertie had railroaded him into judging the Rhubarb Rally, so he had the ability to give to his community. I supposed most people would see him as an easygoing charmer. A bit of a mooch, a drifter.

Who in the town had similar traits?

Too damn many people.

It was a start, though. I’d make a list of things that seemed consistent with Heim’s personality, ask Jean and Roy and Myra to add in anything that came to mind. Then I’d start sorting possible candidates, even if that meant going through all of Ordinary from A to Z.

I sighed and rubbed at my eyes again. I was not looking forward to crunching these numbers and wading through this paperwork. But I’d do it.

No matter how long it took. As long as it didn’t take longer than four days.

Chapter 18

“TOOK YOU long enough.” Jean sat in my chair at my desk, eyes closed, arms crossed over her Venture Bros. T-shirt. The uncomfortable position meant she was trying to get a little shuteye without sinking into a deep sleep. I’d seen her do that ever since she took over the graveyard shift.

“I bring a peace offering.” I dropped the white bag with the maple bar on her lap.

Her mouth curved, but she hadn’t opened her eyes. “You brought me donuts as an apology?”

“One, I don’t owe you an apology. Two, that donut’s not from me.”

She cracked one eye open. “I’ll get to one in a second. Talk to me about two.”

“Your boyfriend gave it to me, on the house, with a wink and a smile.”

“My boyfriend?” She frowned, and finally put it together. “Hogan?” she exclaimed delightedly.

“You have some other guy working in some other bakery who likes you? Where else would I be going for pastries? Get out of my chair.”

“I’m not slow, I’m tired.” She dug out the maple bar and stared at it like it was a diamond ring. “Oh.” Her voice wavered. “He remembers.”

“So how long has this been going on between you two?”

“What?”

“Maple bar love-o-grams with hunky Hogan.” I pushed at her until she got out of the chair, and perched on the edge of my desk instead.

“Today.” She stared at the donut with a sort of dreamy sparkle in her eye. “Just. Now.”

I smiled and shook my head. The first, early moments of falling in love were always so sweet. Honest, true. And I knew my sister. When she liked someone she fell fast and all the way, regardless of the consequences.

I just hoped he didn’t break her heart, because he’d have a hard time doing his job after I’d broken both his arms.

“He’s still there now.” I booted up my computer.

“I’ll go by later. When he gets off.”

I pulled up email, clicking on the rally itinerary from Bertie.

I groaned. I would be needed for judging tonight at nine. My stomach, which I’d just gotten settled, roiled at the thought of having to eat rhubarb. Maybe she’d grant me mercy and let me judge non-edible entries.

I committed the list to memory, then moved on to the next email.

Nine o’clock meant I’d have to cancel the dessert with Ryder.

Hell.

“And now we go back to number one,” Jean said. She still hadn’t bitten into the pastry, but was eyeing it fondly, like she wanted to frame it or something.

“Take a picture. Number one who?”

“Number one what,” she corrected. “You do owe me an apology. I’ve been waiting for you all morning.”

She dug out her phone and held it for a selfie, angling the maple bar against her slightly parted lips. She smiled, opened her eyes with feigned innocence, and somehow made the whole thing look dirty.

I wondered if Hogan knew what he was in for.

“I didn’t sleep well. Wanted some strong coffee.”

“You look exhausted. Did you sleep at all?”

“No. I was sort of…distracted.”

“By the murder or by Ryder?”

“Both, I guess. And the power.” Truth all the way, especially with my sister. “I don’t suppose you might get any…hints or feelings about who might be the right person to give the power over to?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. I think…I think I felt that Heim was going to be killed. That was the bad feeling I’d had. But since then, nothing.”

“Do you think if you got close to someone who might be a candidate for power you might pick up on something?”