Auf'd (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Two) Read online

  "Fair enough."

  "Try this." Belinda held up a mini meatball and he slid it off the toothpick, nodding appreciatively while he chewed. "The mini meatballs are in?"

  He gave thumbs-up. "The mini meatballs are in."

  Belinda clapped. "Phew. That was easy. We've got fancy meatballs, their killer bruschetta, and a random assortment of other foods." Belinda pulled out a notebook, listing off the items, and checked off caterer.

  "What's next?" Bennett popped another sample in his mouth.

  "We have an appointment at the art gallery so I can see where we can set up the food. Then," Belinda's eyes lit up, "we pick up the baking truck!" She wanted to scream—and throw up. "We're doing a dry run later, to test everything and just get used to it beforehand. Will you be a customer?"

  "I might even leave a tip." Bennett took the plate with the rest of the meatballs and they let themselves out, walking a few blocks to the other side of the same cross street.

  Bennett grabbed Belinda's hand as they dashed across the divided road that cut through town. Once they made it to the other side alive, they both slowed to a stroll. She had a lot to do, but this was the first time she and Bennett had been able to do anything alone in over a week and she wasn't rushing it.

  At the end of a set of shops was a white brick building with a couple of abstract canvas pieces in the windows. Bennett held open the glass door for her. "You know the owner?" he said.

  "Yep. Mom was one of her first major patrons."

  They passed through the first floor and took a set of stairs to the second, which was much more like a gallery and less like a store. The white brick offset the canvasses and sculptures and felt like a modern art museum. Belinda admired a painting on the center wall while Bennett wandered toward a piece closer to the windows.

  Natural light streamed in through the front, and Bennett studied a sculpture of...well, that's what he was trying to determine.

  "This is perfect." Belinda joined Bennett near the windows. "Sawyer was right." She visualized a long table with a white cloth right there. It would fit perfectly. Nodding in approval of her own idea, Belinda directed her attention to the piece in front of them. She pulled a face. "I'm decidedly not a sculpture person."

  Bennett folded his arms. She thought she'd lost him in the artwork, but then he spoke. "What do you mean, 'Sawyer was right'?"

  Oops. She'd kinda, sorta, unintentionally on purpose forgot to tell Bennett about her visit to the jazz club. "He suggested it," she said dismissively. Maybe shrugging it off would help. "Actually, he offered some ideas that made me think of it."

  "You asked his advice?" Bennett was no longer studying the sculpture, so shrugging it off didn't work. All eyes, meaning the two storm cloud gray ones in front of her, were on her.

  "Not exactly." How to explain this without it sounding like more than it was? Because now that she went through the scenario—slow dancing with a man in a sexy jazz club—she wished she'd looked at it more objectively before going. "He just offered suggestions and since I have a lot to juggle right now, I accepted. He seems to go to a lot more of these things than I do."

  "So you talked about this when you saw him with Victoria?"

  His tone was taking on an accusing edge, and it was making her nervous. "I met him at the jazz club where some of the designers went last night. It was almost a complete waste of time, but he did give me this suggestion."

  Bennett's face went sour. And there were no more meatballs.

  "Maybe I should've said something earlier." Or left out the jazz club detail. Or simply come up with something without Sawyer's help.

  "Maybe."

  The art gallery owner came out of her office to meet them and graciously cut off that unpleasant conversation. They didn't talk about it again, even once they'd left the gallery, but she could feel it hanging in the air as they talked about other things on the way to the food truck place way outside of Portside. Belinda wanted to say something to smooth it over, but she sensed it might make things worse right then.

  A while later, Belinda honked the horn of the Cake Diva truck, and stopped on the foot of grass in front of the bushes guarding their yard and blocking a direct view of the house. Kyle paused his hull painting of Sea Stud, which was now positioned slightly in front of and to the side of the carriage house. It meant Kyle would be around more, which was nice, but it also meant double the sound of power tools, which was not nice.

  He ran over, his bronze face and hands splotched in white and a mask dangling around his neck. His brown and gold hair was matted to his skull with sweat and paint. He wiped his face with a sleeve and appraised the truck from the middle of the street. "You drove this all the way here?" Kyle said. Bennett pulled up behind her in his truck and hopped out.

  Belinda pointed to where they'd come from. "I drove it from the farm stand to here."

  Kyle laughed. "That's probably safer."

  Belinda made a face at him. Safer? Hmph.

  Bennett came around and slapped the side of the truck. "She's in good shape. Should hold up well."

  Belinda smiled. "I did good?"

  "You did good." Bennett leaned up and kissed her. Maybe he'd gotten over his little snit about Sawyer on the drive back.

  Kyle made bow-chick-a-wow-wow noises.

  "Get back to your painting." Belinda shooed him off.

  Kyle readjusted his mask, looking like a World War II alien, and made Darth Vader breathing sounds en route back to his boat.

  Belinda swung her legs out the door.

  "Are you happy?" Bennett leaned on the side, squinting up at her.

  "I am. And terrified." She nodded. "They're competing for my attention."

  Bennett leaned up on the step, kissing her again now that no one was watching. Except for the car that passed. "I would never get away with calling this a date," he said.

  Belinda giggled and hopped out. "How about the cocktail party tonight? Does that count?"

  Bennett contemplated her question. "Nope."

  Chapter 7

  Belinda laid out several non-coordinating items on the bed in an attempt to get dressed for the cocktail party that evening. Immediately after they moved into the carriage house, Belinda claimed the upstairs loft bedroom as her own. Kyle only stepped foot up there once, but Belinda had carefully strung out her lace push-up bras and matching hiphugger panties, successfully sending Kyle running for the downstairs. After that, he graciously offered to sleep on the couch.

  She had to leave early to help arrange everything at the art gallery and she didn't have a thing to wear. And Belinda didn't throw that cliché around. None of her dresses had made it into the suitcases, so she was left with separates that seemed to have no mates. After trying almost everything together except for her pajamas, Belinda landed on something that she actually liked a lot. For the first time that day, she felt confident about the party. Maybe something good would come out of all the nonsense after all.

  Belinda checked herself out in the bathroom mirror, thinking she might need an extra coat of mascara. She circled around to make sure she was all right from every possible angle. Up close. Far away. From the right. From the left. Bending over.

  She wiggled into her heels and locked the door behind her just in time to get to the gallery when she wanted. Kyle had texted that he was going to the marine store after work to pick up supplies and then he had plans.

  Plans? Irregular. He didn't elucidate, and the way he said it, Belinda knew his plans didn't include working on Sea Stud. But she'd have to ask him about that later. Right then she needed a parking spot and some antianxiety medication.

  Belinda dashed around the art gallery patting down a corner of a tablecloth, directing servers to stagger the wine and champagne so it didn't run out, and nudging the flower vases to center them on the tables. Everything was in place and ready to run smoothly, so she felt a little entitled to breathe. The honey-colored wood floor creaked as guests arrived, mixed, mingled, and admired the art lining the
walls. Kori found her in the back, cornered by Mrs. Sykes.

  "Wonderful job," Mrs. Sykes said enthusiastically. Maybe more so now that she held a glass of red wine. "I thought a poolside party would be good next."

  Belinda nearly choked on a meatball she'd stolen from the back. Hosting meant you didn't actually get to eat yourself. "Next?"

  Mrs. Sykes nodded while swallowing, swirling the wine around and around in the glass. "They're still stuck here, so I thought the least we can do is entertain them."

  We, Belinda thought ironically.

  "So it's a plan?" Mrs. Sykes said with her eyes all innocent and wide.

  Belinda could see the door from where she stood. Maybe she should run for it. Why wasn't she on a sabbatical in Europe, like her parents? Was she nuts? But what came out of her mouth was, "It's a plan."

  Mrs. Sykes beamed. "You're a doll!" She squished Belinda in a hug and skittered off to mingle.

  Kori handed Belinda a champagne flute. "She's in a good mood."

  Belinda took a gulp, which was etiquette illiterate, but she needed an instant hit. She was experiencing déjà vu. Just like with the runway show, she thought the end of that night meant freedom. But now she had to scurry to put together a poolside party—and she still had plenty of work left before the next Saturday.

  "It's the divorce," Belinda said between gulps.

  Kori raised her eyebrows. "Wow. Didn't expect that from you."

  Belinda waved her glass. "She's been like this since we all learned they were getting divorced. But I think she's making out well in the settlement."

  "She got a boyfriend?"

  "Not that I've heard, and believe me, the gossip has been flying since the, um, fight at the yacht club."

  Kori tiptoed closer. "What kind of, um, fight are we talking about?"

  Belinda tilted her head down. She really shouldn't say. But Mrs. Sykes throwing another party on her shoulders was getting under her skin. "I wasn't there, but it was a rather public, rather witnessed incident. Screaming and that sort of thing. According to one rumor, she threw a chair at him."

  "A chair?"

  Belinda rolled her eyes. "Highly unlikely. Whatever happened, they're in the middle of an epic divorce." She snatched another glass of champagne from a server's tray.

  "She doesn't seem too upset for somebody dealing with a nasty divorce."

  "Like I said, she's supposedly getting a good deal out of it."

  "What happened?"

  "I don't know."

  Kori leaned on one hip.

  "Okay, okay." Belinda took a deep breath. Again, she should probably keep her lips tight. She glanced around to make sure no one would overhear. "All I know is people said she was yelling about him cheating on her during the smackdown. But there's no sign of him with anybody new now, so I don't know that it's true."

  Kori made a sour face. "I've always struggled with the concept that he married to begin with. How would he nab somebody else too?"

  "Money?" Belinda shrugged. She'd seen weirder things happen.

  "He ain't that rich."

  "Well, I don't know. Like I said, it may be just an evil rumor. Maybe that's why he's always in such a state about everything. Like at the show." Belinda checked the door to make sure Mr. Sykes wasn't barreling in to complain about how much all of this was costing him.

  Kori turned her champagne flute around, admiring how it sparkled under the light. "What about that Detective Parker? He in the middle of anything right now?"

  Belinda considered her reply. She figured Jonas pairing with Kori right now would be impossible at best. "Just a murder investigation."

  Kori twirled the glass around and smiled. "'Nough gossip. Let's mingle."

  Kori grabbed her hand and dragged her into the middle of a cluster of guests. Belinda smiled with sparkle. The champagne was definitely working.

  "I like a woman who knows how to throw a last-minute party with style," Sawyer said, not bothering to hide his admiration of her figure. Belinda looked around for Bennett, but he hadn't arrived yet. He'd warned her he might be late. She wasn't sure if that was due to work, or just because he didn't want to be there any longer than necessary.

  Belinda's mind went blank on sassy responses. He held out his arm and after hesitating, Belinda took it. Kori smirked as he swaggered away with another victim.

  They left the group in the center of the room and skirted the edge, pretending to examine the art lining the whitewashed brick walls. Or at least, Belinda pretended to examine them. Between the champagne and the echoes of conversations across the room and Sawyer's cologne, she couldn't focus on someone's abstract interpretation of the cycle of life right then.

  "Fantastic job with the party," Sawyer said. "You make it look effortless."

  Effortless totally missed the mark. "I promise I got this far by the skin of my teeth."

  They entered an abandoned part of the gallery that wrapped around and led back to the main room. Sawyer stepped away to check out the rest of her skin. "You look stunning."

  Belinda was about to babble something like a thank-you, when Sawyer planted his lips on hers. Seconds of shock later, she shoved him away, taking as many steps back as she dared with the room spinning like a pinwheel in front of her.

  The floor creaked behind her and Belinda jumped and turned around in the same motion. On the bottom of some stairs that led up to the offices, Bennett looked on, expressionless. But she caught his eyes long enough to see them transition from surprise to ice.

  When had Bennett showed up? And how long did she stand there like a fool letting Sawyer kiss her?

  Bennett swiftly reached Belinda's side, tucking his arm around her waist. She felt her heart go from freezing in her chest to palpitating, and she stammered through an introduction.

  Sawyer and Bennett sized each other up as they shook hands, and Bennett's tightened around Belinda as they did.

  "So, event security." Sawyer tugged on his earlobe. "I guess you must be used to protecting parties, not attending them."

  The words sounded innocent enough. But Belinda detected the condescending undercurrent. That would not go over well with Bennett.

  Sure enough, Belinda watched him straighten up microscopically, tilt his head back by a millimeter, and slant his eyes, forming a hard line straight down his nose to Sawyer.

  "You dress the attendees, and I watch them," Bennett said flatly.

  Sawyer forced a laugh, scratching his chin. Something flashed through his eyes though. Something...hateful. It passed quickly, but his eyes remained hard in spite of his best efforts to replace it with his usual sparkle.

  "Well, you have been enchanting as always." Sawyer said to Belinda like he'd known her for years. "And you do look stunning."

  Despite Bennett's vice-grip on her, Sawyer lifted Belinda's hand to his lips, taking his sweet time while gazing up at her seductively. He finally winked and brushed past Bennett, who stood still and cold next to her with his free hand clenched by his side.

  Belinda could barely speak, and wasn't sure she could move, but she had to get it together. She couldn't be like this the whole night. "I–I need to go to the ladies' room." She needed to stick her head out a window, and fast. "Would you...would you grab a peppermint for me? I think there's one in my coat pocket."

  Bennett glanced down at her, his eyes still sharp. "Sure." His hand dropped from her waist and he loped to the narrow hallway by the entrance serving as a coat room.

  Belinda dashed upstairs to the restroom, forcing open the lopsided window. She stuck her head out, inhaling fresh, cold air. It hit her damp skin, offering immediate relief from the anxiety attack coming on. Why did she ask Sawyer to help her?

  A story below on the sidewalk, heels click-clacked. Belinda opened her eyes and saw what looked like Brooke's head off to the side, standing near the adjacent building. Belinda could make out the top rim of her glasses and she was dressed more casually than Belinda usually saw her in skinny jeans and boots. Brooke had sidled out
of coming to the party due to plans. Brooke typed on her phone, pocketed it, and glanced around.

  A minute or so later, another pair of shoes clacked—flatter ones—and a tallish figure appeared in front of Brooke. From the little bit of streetlight illuminating the meet-up, Sawyer was the man. He hugged Brooke, and then more astonishing, kissed her. And not a peck on the cheek, or even lips, mind you, but a full-on open mouth situation. Belinda stretched farther out of the window. The way things were that second, she doubted they'd notice if a plane flew over their heads.

  They finally pulled away, keeping their faces close, whispering in urgent tones. Belinda strained to hear, but she could only make out the word "okay" coming from Sawyer's mouth every few seconds. The rest sounded like rustling plastic bags.

  The wooden restroom door swung open, and Belinda nearly jumped out of her skin, slamming her body against the radiator beside the window. Kori let the door swing back, examining Belinda.

  "You okay?" she said dubiously. "You've been gone a while." She looked from Belinda to the open window and back to Belinda. "Coming down with something?"

  "No," Belinda said quietly. "I'm just hot. Really, really hot." And humiliated and stupid on so many levels.

  Kori scanned her slowly like a copy machine, returning to meet her eyes. Belinda held her position by the radiator. "Maybe you should lay off the drinks. Or the designers."

  Belinda's cheeks burned even hotter. Had she seen Sawyer kiss her? Kori passed her into one of the stalls, latching the wooden door behind her.

  Belinda straightened herself out in the mirror and took a damp paper towel to her face. After dabbing and drying, she closed the window, noting that Brooke and Sawyer had disappeared.

  Brooke and Sawyer.

  That just confirmed he was insincere. But more to the point, it put a new spin on her assistant, who supposedly didn't know anyone from the show.

  Belinda folded that up for later. More distressing things beckoned. Right now, she had a very unhappy man downstairs to assuage. She slid gloss onto her lips, smiled into the mirror, and threw open the door.