“What do you think?” Maybelle asked, leaning in toward Will who’d been looking very bored near one of the large plants in the lounge they were in. The full group of guests there for the murder mystery had arrived in their Sunday best, chatting and flirting already and Maybelle couldn’t wait to dive in.
“About what?” her brother asked, though his eyes were directed precisely toward her target of affection. She gave him a look, resigning not to punch him in the shoulder for playing dumb.
“Do I have a shot, Will?” she huffed, trying with all her might to push back her irritation. The mansion was a beauty, and the people were friendly and flattering—so far—and the staff had been catering to their every desire. Will’s grumpiness was getting old.
She caught the eye of the man she’d been ogling since he’d walked in the room, a crimson heat going through her cheeks when he offered her a smile. He was the Norse God himself, a Hemsworth brother gone rogue and mingling with the single norms of Michigan. Maybelle stood a little taller, trying to look unfazed by the sheer beauty of the man.
“Or…” she continued, gazing around the room, “should I settle for… that guy?”
“You don’t have to settle for anyone,” Will said with a cocky eyebrow. A frown pulled on her lips. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or being sincere. She really needed him to be sincere.
“Will…”
He set his empty glass down and looked her in the eye. She’d always been envious of his blue irises. Hers were more like faded sapphires while his shined like the Alabama skies. “Serious, Bells. If you’re really here to do this, go all in.”
“So, you’re tellin’ me—in your very brotherly way—I could have any man I want.”
He tapped his nose, and a squeal bubbled in her throat. Yes, sincerity was exactly the motivation she needed. She stuck her glass out for him to take and fixed her hair. “Save me if you see the signal.”
She knew all too well good looks weren’t the only thing that mattered; the man could be a complete buffoon, but the way his eyes sparkled as she marched toward him had her confidence rising with every step, despite the fact that he had four other women attached to him already.
Okay, Eros… if you’ve got an arrow ready, aim it right here.
A clink of glass went through the room and the crowd fell silent. A deep frown pulled on Maybelle’s lips, but it didn’t stay long when she caught the same frown on Mr. Handsome’s face, looking equally disappointed they didn’t get a chance to chat.
“Welcome to Frostville Mansion!” the owner, Winter Garland herself, said to the room. She stood up on a platform of some sort, and even on that and four inch heels, she didn’t match the height of the man next to her.
Maybelle’s heart stuttered for a second time that night, eyes widening at the man’s bulk, height, and sense of power. Sweet Potato Pearl, had she walked into a Marvel movie?
Winter’s announcement buzzed in her ears, not making sense though she tried. The hulk of a man pulled at the collar of his dress shirt and scratched his midnight skin at the base of his neck. The material strained against his bicep, and when his eyes met hers, she chickened out and shot a look to the floor.
Will let out one of his signature hollers, and she jumped, laughing along with the rest of the guests. She had no doubt that Winter had just announced it was dinner time; her brother only made that noise when there was food involved.
“Your names are in front of your seats,” Winter continued, and Maybelle perked her ears, avoiding eye contact with Hulk and connecting once again with Thor. His sweet eyes and awkward and adorable grins were much less intimidating, but no less effective at making her skin flush. “I know it’s out of comfort zones to sit by strangers, but here at Frostville, we like to mix things up and force you to get to know each other.”
As soon as the doors were opened to the dining room, Maybelle scurried in to look for her name. Excitement bubbled in her stomach, erasing any hunger she may have been feeling. The change of atmosphere was needed; she was already getting ahead of herself, swooning over not one, but two men within seconds of spotting them.
She plopped down into her seat, her southern belle dress fluffing out to the sides of the ornate chair and fluttering to a stop under the large table. She grabbed at the chair legs to scoot herself in, but a deep voice stopped her.
“I got it, Miss.”
He has to be seven feet tall, she thought, smiling up at Hulk and allowing him to push her seat in.
“Thank you,” she said, and his mouth twitched at her twang. He slid into the spot on her left. She not-so-subtly checked for his name. “Michael.”
He looked at her nametag propped on her appetizer plate. “Maybelle.”
She took his massive hand and shook it, his warmth and smile easing her back into herself. Before she came down to dinner, she’d scolded her reflection to not be so loud, not be so… Maybelle. But with the excitement in the room and the many, many handsome, single men at her disposal, she was going to find it harder and harder to contain random squeals.
This was definitely one of those moments. Her jaw clenched so tightly her back teeth slid off each other.
Guests took their seats, and Maybelle playfully raised her brows at Will sitting across from her. He barely registered who he was next to—an older woman who was obviously one of the murder mystery actresses—and she hoped he wouldn’t make a scene once he found out what the entertainment was for this week.
She pushed a stray red curl from her face and glanced at the plate on her right. Garreth.
“I guess this is me.”
Her eyes flicked up, meeting Thor’s once again. A squeal popped from her mouth that was completely involuntary.
The chair stuttered against the floor as he pulled it out with shaking hands. A nervous laugh filtered from his handsome lips, a single dimple showing on his chin as he smoothed his tie away from the table and sat. Maybelle inhaled the scent of aftershave and pen ink, and she looked for a pocket protector, slightly disappointed he didn’t have one.
Food was put in front of them almost immediately, and Maybelle shook her head at her brother who’d dived into the salad like it was the first meal he’d had in months.
“You two related?” Michael asked, leaning to the side, probably so his deep voice wasn’t overheard by half the table. Little did he know that Maybelle was the one who could be heard clear across town when she whispered.
“My brother.” She sighed, feigning annoyance. Really, she was happy he seemed to finally be enjoying himself. “How’d you guess?”
“Oh, my sister gives me that look when I embarrass her.”
“And I bet you just keep on embarrassing her.”
“That’s what brothers are for.”
She playfully wrinkled her nose and daintily stabbed at her salad. Before Momma lost her arm, she ran a charm school for the belles. She’d also run the debutante balls Maybelle would sneak into every year. One day, she’d tell herself, one day I’ll be dressing them up and doing their hair.
She’d had all the time in the world to go after her career, but she never did. She’d been so focused on catching up to all the other belles—finding a man, falling in love, having children…
She was still chasing after those things.
Garreth cleared his throat beside her, his hand nervously running up and down his thigh. Maybelle smiled at his vulnerability, so unusual to see on such a handsome fella.
He opened his mouth, but only a small grunt squeezed out before a blush filled his face and he shook his head. Aww, maybe she should help the poor guy out.
“Hi there,” she said, turning toward him. During one of her many lessons, she’d been taught to open her body up during conversation to make the person feel more at ease.
“Hi,” he said, his voice relieved, soft, and low. A flutter flew through her, and all her manners fell from her mind.
“Why ya so nervous, handsome? You’re not part of the act are ya?”
He chuckled, his eyes focusing on his untouched salad. “No, no.” He gulped and met her gaze. “Just a bit out of my comfort zone.”
“It’s all these women, ain’t it?” she teased. “You ain’t used to being stared at and flirted with so much.”
Michael snorted behind her, and she flicked her gaze over her shoulder to share an amused glance with him. Garreth had to know the effect he had on people; he could start a youtube channel of only selfies in a slideshow and make a killing.
“A bit, yeah,” Garreth said. “More like not used to this many people. I’m usually, uh, you know… table for one.” He held up a finger, pretending a waiter was in front of him, then shook his head, embarrassed. Maybelle pressed her lips together. How adorable was he?
“Oh, I take myself out to eat all the time.” She slid another piece of salad into her mouth, and he followed suit. “Goody’s Barbeque Pit has a specific table for me. I call it no man’s land, because no man would ever sit there with me.”
Garreth heartily laughed. “That’s so sad.”
“I see you’re all broken up about it.”
“I only laugh because I can relate.”
She wanted to call him out on it, but was interrupted by the main course. Will made a whooping sound from across the table.
It’d been ages since Maybelle had eaten chicken cordon bleu, and the moment it slid into her mouth, she moaned loud enough most of the table glanced her way. Garreth’s ears turned red, but Maybelle only declared it one of the best things she’d ever had, and continued to eat and gab.
“You aren’t easily embarrassed, are you?” Garreth asked, his tone awed but curious.
“Only by her brother,” Michael added, and Maybelle gestured to him with her fork and nodded her agreement with that.
Garreth’s eyes toggled back and forth between Maybelle and Michael, and she tilted her head, curious what he thought. A flicker of jealousy seemed to be lingering in his eyes, and she’d hate for him to think she was put off by his shyness. In fact, it only made him more attractive.
“I admire that,” he said quietly to his food.
“Admire what?” she asked, leaning in and resting her chin on the palm of her hand. Michael had joined the conversation on his other side, and she was going to take advantage of the privacy she and Garreth suddenly had.
He jumped as if he were surprised she’d been listening. His smile twitched. “Uh… just that you don’t worry so much about what other people think.”
“What makes you assume that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Do you?”
She thought for a moment. “Sometimes. I’m good at hiding it.”
A silent chuckle lifted the spirit in his eyes, and her skin ran warm. “Well, then I admire that.”
A’right… she liked him. Already. Oh, this was bad. Or was it good? Was he interested or simply being polite? She watched him eat for way too long for it to not turn awkward, and when he finally asked if there was something on his face, they both laughed.
Dessert came out a bit after that, strawberry and chocolate ice cream that elicited another moan upon first taste. Michael had been telling a hilarious story that had half the table rolling in their seats, including Garreth who kept sharing glances with her and making her heart happy.
“So, Maybelle…” he started, toying with his napkin. Tingles spread up her arms at the way her name rolled off his tongue. “Are you… I mean, you’re here in Frostville, but it isn’t exactly one of the normal weeks here… I just… I guess I was curious—”
“If I was single?” she finished, her voice rushed and hopeful. His eyes widened with surprise, and oh heavens, if that wasn’t what he was going to say, she was going to bury her head into the vat of ice cream she was sure was in the kitchens.
A clatter crashed through the room, and a surprised scream came from the back of Maybelle’s throat. All eyes turned to the head of the table where a man had collapsed into his dessert. Maybelle’s heart was in her temples, pounding and pounding until Winter fell over the man dramatically, and she was reminded that they were in the midst of a murder mystery week.
“Joshua,” Winter cried. “Joshua, oh my… someone help!”
Maybelle’s eyes shot to Michael’s seat, only to find it empty. A smile fell on her lips. He was one of the actors; no wonder he was so boisterous, so comfortable. He was only playing a part.
The rest of the cast made themselves known rather quickly. The older woman who’d been next to Will was in on it, and there was a couple at the other end of the table putting on a show for the guests not quite as close to the action. Maybelle searched for her brother, eyes skating around to each face, panic curdling in the pit of her stomach when she couldn’t locate him.
Winter let out a high-pitched cry, continuing to sob over the “body.” Wow, she was really good. Maybelle hadn’t given it much thought, but she hadn’t expected much performance wise.
The dining hall doors banged open. Will stormed through, his jaw set in determination.
“Uh oh…” Maybelle braced herself for a public chastising, closing her eyes and flinching back. A warm hand settled on her forearm, the touch unfamiliar but comforting. She looked down and bit away the joyous smile of having Garreth make such a bold move.
But Will marched right past her, his stride full of purpose. Maybelle and Garreth furrowed their brows at each other just as her brother put his arms around Winter and dragged her from the room.
“Uh…” Garreth said as soon as they’d left. The entire room, including the actors, seemed to be completely speechless. “That was a bit… intense.”
Maybelle slowly nodded and bit away a smile. “Oh goodness… I didn’t count on the actors to be so…” She covered her face. He thought this was all real and his protective streak kicked in. Maybelle would’ve been a bit more offended that he didn’t grab his own sister from the room if she wasn’t so worried that he would be the one to kill her once he got clued in.