Melissa Hagan.

After an hour and a half of relentless breakneck baking, I leave the leaf-shaped cookies on the rack to cool while I—correction—while Keelie makes a quick phone call.

“Hello?” chimes the sweet voice of a female on the other end.

I nod to Keelie with the go ahead. She’s in the know as far as who the mystery woman is. In fact, she was the mastermind of this newly hatched plan.

“Yes, hello! This is the Keelie from the Honey Pot Diner out in Honey Hollow. We had a giveaway last night for a bouquet of cookies, and the winner said she couldn’t take them. She, uh”—Keelie looks to me, baffled.

“Had a toothache,” I whisper, shrugging simultaneously.

“She had a dental issue that prevented her from enjoying the scrumptious confections. Anyway, she said she was a friend of yours and asked that we deliver them to you instead. She said we could find you in the community directory. I have you on Myrtle Drive. Is that still a good address for you?”

Keelie listens intently, her penciled in brows dipping and rising with amusement. “Oh, I see. At your mother’s.” She motions for a pen, and I quickly pull out a grease pen and some parchment for her to write on. “1631 Grand Marque, Hollyhock. Well, that’s just around the corner. I bet you’ve been down to Honey Hollow a time or two, haven’t you?”

I shake my head frenetically at Keelie. There’s no way I want to grill Mrs. Hagan over the phone.

Keelie hangs up and purses her lips at me. “She said she had to go pick up her daughter from school. I take it Honey Hollow isn’t her favorite subject.”

“Yeah, and we know why,” I say as I begin to ice the cookies in haste. “Because she just corroborated the assistant coach’s story. I guess Noah Fox really knows his stuff.”

“I do know my stuff.”

Keelie and I turn abruptly to find a sober-faced Noah Fox darken the entry to the kitchen, all decked out in a suit, which reminds me—he is supposedly Everett Baxter’s brother. For some reason, that familial connection just doesn’t seem to fit.

“Care to say it to my face?” He gives a brazen smile, and my blood begins to boil just seeing it.

“You took my note, and you told me to stay out of your investigation. I don’t see a single reason for you to smile in my presence. And by the way, last I checked, the investigation belongs to the Ashford Sherriff’s Department.”

His chest pumps with a slow breath. “I happened to walk in just as you mentioned Mrs. Hagan corroborated the assistant coach’s story. Therefore, it’s safe to say you’re not staying out of anyone’s investigation.”

“What note?” Keelie looks to me confused, and my mouth opens, ready to spew a half-truth, a lie, anything at all, but nothing comes out.

Noah heads over. “Somebody threatened Lottie last night.” His eyes settle over mine, and an unexplained calm settles over me. “I followed you home just to make sure you were safe.”

“You followed me home?” It comes from me astonished. “And you were eavesdropping in on a private conversation just now. You’re out of line.” My voice piques with anger. “You are a certified stalker, Detective Fox.”

“Eavesdropping and following people happen to be in my job description.” His own voice hikes a notch, as those serious eyes remain trained on mine. And then at the drop of a hat he softens. “But you’re right. I was out of line, and I apologize. I care about you as a person. I don’t want you to be the next victim that this maniac might butcher.”

“Aww.” Keelie’s shoulders sag on cue as she coos into him.

“Fine.” I box up the cookies—two sunflower yellow, two pumpkin orange, and two verdant green—and tie them up with twine. For the bakery that’s to come next door, we’ve ordered pale pink boxes, unbleached boxes with windows as well, and I’m dying to see them. “I’m headed to Hollyhock.” I shoot Noah a look sharp enough to pin him to a wall. “I suppose since you’ll follow me there, I might as well hitch a ride and save some gas.”

He sheds a crooked grin, that devilish gleam in his eyes shining right through. “Now we’re getting somewhere.” He heads out the front door, and I take a moment to glare at my gloating bestie.

“Don’t worry, Keelie. I won’t do anything you would do,” I tease.

Her brow hooks into her forehead. “Why don’t you do the opposite of what you would normally do and give us something to talk about for once?”

“You wish,” I say, taking off after him.

“You wish!” she calls after me. “The best part is, you can make your wishes come true!”

The drive to Hollyhock is thick with silence. I can’t remember the last time I was in a car with someone else, let alone someone else who happens to harbor an extra body part or three in his pants.

“There it is,” I say as we come upon a log cabin style home. “1631 Grand Marque,” I say as my heart vibrates straight through to my bones. I go to open the door, and Noah lands a hand over mine.

“Let me do it. If she’s the killer, she won’t take too kindly when you start asking questions. Trust me, whoever did it is paranoid right about now. I don’t think that was your traditional psychopath. That looked like a classic crime of passion.”

The slight look of pleading in his eyes tenders me into relaxing back in my seat a moment.

“But I’m a woman and she’s a woman. Trust me, she’ll feel a lot more comfortable seeing me on the other side of the door than a man with the body of a wrestler.”

His head tips back, and I can practically see his ego going off like an airbag. “Wrestler, huh? Pro or high school?”

“Definitely pro.” I shake my head at his willingness to have his ego stroked. And seeing that he’s a man, I’m betting he’s eager to have something else stroked as well.

I suck in a quick breath as I pull my head straight from the gutter. It’s not Noah’s fault he’s a stunning specimen of a man. But, unfortunately, he is squarely to blame when it comes to controlling that stubborn steak that seems to be embedded into his soul.

“Look”—I say, getting out of the truck—“if you stay in the car like a good doggy, I might just give you a treat.” My fingers clasp over the door as I’m about to shut it. “I’ll let you know what I’ve garnered in my investigation.”

“Exchanging notes. I like that.” His eyes light up, and I can’t help but think he’s mocking me somehow. I shut the door, not nearly as enthusiastically as I want to, and make my way up to the cute little cottage with its chimney chugging powder gray smoke into the air. A bed of auburn and butter yellow mums lines the walkway, a ghost white pumpkin sits on the porch giving it a warm inviting feel, and two twin wreaths comprised solely of acorns decorate the front doors.

I give the doorbell a quick buzz, and it takes less than ten seconds for a watery figure to emerge behind the frosted glass. The door swings open, and a petite brunette with her hair in a bun smiles wide.

“Oh my goodness! You must be from the Honey Pot. Come in and set those down. I was just planting some flowers out back, and I’m afraid I have soil all over me.” She leads me through an impeccably beautiful interior with pale wood floors. A giant fake bear rug lies draped over a leather sofa in the living room, and there’s a flannel moose head hanging over the fireplace. She leads us into an expansive kitchen filled with enviable stainless steel appliances, commercial grade, and a kitchen island made of powder white marble. “I bet it was my good friend Chrissy who sent them. She’s been nothing but a rock for me.”

Chrissy Nash!

“Oh? Did something happen?” I try to sound shocked and concerned as if I’m just hearing about a disturbance in her life. Not that I know her enough to warrant such a reaction, but we’re all human. In that sense, it’s totally compassionate of me to be concerned. “I mean, your family is okay, right?” Too close to home? I can’t help it. She walked into that one.

“It’s nothing like that.” She rinses her hands under the sink before patting them dry on a towel. “Actually, I guess it very much is something like that. My husband thought it was a good idea to run out and find himself a girlfriend.” She rolls her eyes as if it were one of those annoying things that husbands eventually get around to doing. “Other women might have been more tolerant, but I’m not that kind.” She takes the cookies from me and pulls off the twine with minimal effort. I’m always careful not to wrap anything too tight. I figure if you purchase something as delicious as this you want to tear into it and not have to fight your way through aggressive packaging. “Would you look at that?” Her entire face brightens. “These are adorable. I think I’ll save them for the kids. Let me give you something for the trouble.”

“Oh no, please don’t.”

She gives a quiet laugh as she pulls her purse from off the counter and quickly rummages through it. “Looks like I don’t have any cash on me.” She pulls out a couple of orange rectangular coupons. “How about tickets to a football game out in Ashford? I seem to have a plethora of those.” She glares at the tickets as if they were her cheating husband before passing them to me. “It’s high school ball, but some people get a kick out of that. No pun intended. They’re for tonight.”

“Prefect.” I run my fingers over them as if they were made of gold. “I mean, I think I’ll really enjoy seeing the game, and I know just the friend I’ll bring with me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” she says, walking me to the door.

I step back out into the autumn chill and tug at my flannel as the frigid air licks my skin.

I take another look at the poor woman whose husband left her for Merilee Simonson, or at least attempted to.

“I’m really sorry about your husband. Maybe there is no girlfriend?” I shrug because I happen to know that technically there isn’t a living one, at least not Merilee. “I mean, maybe there’s a shred of hope of putting your family back together. You never know, right?”

Her entire frame stiffens as she shoots a cold glance into the forest across the street. “There isn’t a girlfriend anymore, that’s for sure. And I for one am damn glad about it, too.” Her lips pull back into a malevolent smile, and my blood runs cold at the sight.

“Did you know her?” My heart thumps erratically. My hands begin to shake. “The girlfriend?”

She looks past me once again, her stare strangely vacant as she continues to glare across the street. “I met her once. That was all I needed.”

“All you needed.”

The door slams shut between us with a violent bang, and I stand there stunned a moment before getting back to the truck.

“I hope you don’t have any plans tonight,” I say, breathless, as I put on my seat belt. “I’m taking you to a football game.”

He twitches his lips as if considering a smile. “Sounds like a date.”

“It’s not,” I assure him.

“Fine. I hope you don’t have any plans this afternoon. I’m taking you to grab a quick bite.”

“Sounds like a date.” I shake my head wistfully.

“It’s not.” He gives a lazy wink as he pulls out onto the road. “I just happen to be hungry.”

Noah and I pick up a couple of sandwiches at the Hollyhock Deli before heading to the park that overlooks a golden meadow. The wheatgrass below lights up like a fire as the sun begins to dip behind the thick pines on the mountain in the distance. A single lone oak with its leaves red as a blaze sits all by its lonesome in the vast expanse like a burning bush.

“So tell me about your brother.” I can’t help but bite down over my lip as we sit on a bench with a premier view of autumn’s splendor.

“Everett.” He closes his eyes a moment and takes a breath. “He’s not my brother. Not really. He’s my stepbrother. Used to be anyway.” He takes a bite out of his sub, and I can’t help but note the way his jaw clenches and grinds in an angular manner that only seems to add to his comeliness. One thing is for sure. I’ve never quite met a man like Noah Fox—or his stepbrother for that matter.

“So, what does that mean? Your parents were together for a time and then went their separate ways?”

“Divorced.” He winces. “My father married his mother back when we were in high school. My younger brother, Alex, and I moved out to Fallbrook. Let’s just say Everett and his sister weren’t so welcoming. They couldn’t see the good in my father.” He bows his head a moment as he examines the ground. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen it either. Anyway, they were right. Dad pilfered Everett’s poor mother and left her penniless before ditching out of town. Left my brother and me to fend for ourselves after the divorce. My brother went into the Marines, and I went to school, worked full time to get through it. Had a few roommates too many, but I made ends meet and graduated on time. Did my graduate work at Ohio State.”

“And that’s where you met your ex?” I ask cautiously. I of all people understand how thin the ice is in that end of the pond.

“Exactly. So you see, I am not, and never will be, Everett Baxter’s favorite brother.”

“I’m sorry to hear that—all of it. I guess I can understand why Everett would be upset with your father, but I still don’t think that’s any reason to treat you that way.” I take a bite out of my sandwich, but my gaze never leaves his. Noah’s eyes are magnetic, twin green marbles that throw shadow and light, and it’s as if my own eyes don’t want to miss the show.

“That’s very nice of you to say. But we had our differences, too. High school was a trying time in general, and I sort of walked up on his turf. He was one year ahead of me in school, but it still made for tight quarters. He’s a judge now, though.” He shakes his head as if he can’t believe it. “He’s made a success of his life, and I’ve made a mess of mine. I believe he predicted that way back when. I’ve always hated disappointing people.” His chest rumbles with a dark laugh.

“That’s a terrible thing to say.” A moment bounces by with the two of us lost in one another’s eyes.

“Tell me about New York. Not about Columbia. About what really happened.” He gives a sober nod.

“Boy, you’re really gifted when it comes to reading people, aren’t you?” I set my food aside and scoot in closer as the breeze whistles around us, cold as the blade of a knife. I take a breath and look out across the meadow as the grass blows in waves, and I want nothing more than to dive in and forget all of my problems. “His name was Curtis. Graduate student. Business school.” I pull my legs up on the bench and hug my knees. “I thought that was it. After I left Honey Hollow and the heartbreak Bear imparted—”

“Bear? You mean Otis Fisher? The guy currently taking a sledgehammer to the loan department next door? He’s been in my office a few times trying to repair the cracks he’s made.”

“That would be him.” It takes all of my strength to admit it. Deep down, I’m still a little more than upset with Bear. “Bear cracked my heart way back when, and I thought it was the end of the world until Curtis shattered it to pieces. It made anything I went through with Bear feel like a day at the amusement park—all of the rides made me want to vomit, but still. Curtis proposed.” My face grows so hot I’m sure my cheeks are about to combust. I’m pretty sure there is not a more hideous sight in the world than sitting next to someone whose head spontaneously bursts into flames. “Anyway, I called it off after my roommate decided Curtis might like her bed better. I came home early from work and found his wallet on the floor. His clothes were tossed around the floor like dirty laundry, and then I found something far dirtier on her mattress than I ever wanted to see.” I glance to the amber sky reflectively. “My roommate just had her boobs done. Did you know they don’t move the same afterwards?”

Noah barks out a laugh that quickly softens to something sorrowful. “I’m sorry. That was a terrible thing that happened to you. You’re better off without him.”

“I know, but as pitiful as it sounds, it took me a while to get that through my thick head. I guess I’ve always felt like a castoff, unwanted, unlovable. Deep in my heart I knew Curtis and I were too good to be true.” Tears come uninvited, and I’m quick to blink them away. “My mother left me in a firehouse when I was just a few hours old. Not a stitch of clothing on. Still had my umbilical cord attached.” I wipe a lone tear away before it has the chance to roll down my cheek. “My dad found me, took me home, and the rest is Lemon family history as my mother likes to say.”

“And that’s how you became Lottie Lemon.” He examines me with a warm smile, his tender eyes taking in my features. “That’s a beautiful story. And you’re wrong. You are no castoff. It was a great mercy you ended up in that firehouse that day. The Lemons sound like wonderful people.”

“They are.”

The wind picks up with a violent force and blows our napkins all over the place as if they were confetti. Noah and I laugh while chasing down every last one. We put our food away and start in on a walk around the trailhead that leads to a viewpoint through the forest to our left. The winding dirt trail is rife with rocks and pinecones, so Noah takes up my hand as we head up. His fingers are warm and sure, strong and thick, and I drink down the feel of them against my own. We get to the top and his grip loosens a moment, but I firm my grasp over his.

“It’s okay,” I say it so soft the wind carries my voice right up into the boughs above us. “I don’t mind.”

The hint of a smile twitches on his lips as his hand tightens a bit over mine.

“Good. I don’t mind either.”

Noah and I walk to the edge of the scenic lookout, hand in hand, my heart doing its best to drill right through my chest, my adrenaline hitting its zenith. But we don’t look out at the golden glory below us. We’re not at all interested in this new vantage point to examine the majesty nature has on display. Our gaze remains firmly locked over one another.

Noah leans in, and my eyes widen a notch. It’s happening. Noah Corbin Fox is going for the kill, and I can’t help but hold my breath in anticipation. A smile twitches on his lips as he bows in and brushes his lips over mine with a barely there pass, and my body pulsates with a heartbeat all its own. A sudden wave of dizziness hits me as my eyes remain closed, and I would swear on all that is good and right that the world just swayed beneath my feet.

He pulls back as his Adam’s apple rises and falls. “I would apologize, but I’m not in the least bit sorry.”

My lips part, but nothing comes out as a laugh gets locked in my throat. “Me neither.” I hike up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his and feel their softness before I open for him and let him in. Noah Fox kisses me tenderly, sweetly, and then with a greater intensity, something darker and deeper. There have been many kisses in my life, but none as beautiful, none this alive and electrifying.

Noah and I spend a couple of unapologetic hours with our arms wrapped around one another, our bodies sealed at the lips.

The ground spins beneath my feet again, and I wrap my arms around him to keep from falling. But I’m falling in a far different way. I can feel it. No matter how much I swore it would never happen again, it’s too late.

It’s happening.

And I can’t do a thing about it.

We’re late to the game, missing the entire first half. But we cheer with the crowd as the Ashford Spartans beat their crosstown rivals. I watched Coach Hagan as much as I did the game.

“This is great,” I say as we head to the field long after the stands have all but cleared. “He’ll be in a good mood. I bet we can ask him anything.”

“That’s the thing.” Noah pulls his hand from mine and takes a few giant steps ahead while walking backwards. “You’re going to stand safely on the sidelines while I do the talking. If he’s the one we’re after, there’s no way I’m putting you in harm’s way.”

“Aren’t you adorable.” I can’t help but frown as I speed past him. “But I don’t need you to protect me, Noah. I can handle myself. I come from a long line of strong women.” At least those that I know of.

I spot Coach Hagan just finishing up an interview and pull the hood of my wool coat halfway over my face. “Coach! Just a few questions.” I jog up to him before glancing back to where Noah looks on disapprovingly. “I’m with the Ashford Times. Where did you pull that last-minute energy out from? The chips were down, but you rallied in that last half and came back to life.” Chips were down? Are there chips in football? I think not. And came back to life? Well, at least that’s heading in the right direction—onto my next topic, death.

He babbles on something akin to Latin to me, and I nod along as if I understand everything about that long-drive, punt, Hail Mary of a conversation.

“Sounds great.” I take a small step in. “I would like to offer my condolences. I understand a colleague of yours was brutally murdered in Honey Hollow. Do you have anything you’d like to say about that? Perhaps a word of comfort to her family? Is there a good memory you had of the victim that you would like to be made public?” Made public? Nobody wants their dirty laundry aired anywhere near their fellow neighbor! Maybe I should have let Noah work his dark magic after all.

Coach Hagan takes in a sharp breath and holds it as his attention drifts toward the empty stands for a moment. “You think you know someone. You give up everything, and then you find out it was all a lie,” he says the word under his breath, and it’s all I can do to strain to hear it. His jaw clenches. “Tell her family I’m sorry it happened. It’s a terrible, terrible thing.” He starts to walk off, and I jump in his path.

“It sounds like you really knew her.” I need something else. Something that confirms he was angry enough to kill her, but my brain can’t seem to spit out the right words.

He shakes his head as he steps around me. “Turns out, I didn’t know her at all.”

I watch as he disappears out the gate along with the trickling of what’s left of the crowd.

Noah steps in beside me. “Well, Detective Lemon? What’s the verdict? Is the coach a killer?”

“I think he just might be.”