Page 131 of Not That Ridiculous

He slid me an amused smile. All six feet and three inches of lean, muscled handsomeness with tousled copper-gold curls and bone structure exquisite enough to make angels want to scratch out his pretty eyes with jealousy.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what Ray’s into. My skill with a to-do list.”

“Well, you know what they say. Takes all kinds.”

He laughed. “You want the rundown?”

“Please.”

“Okay. The bag you brought has toiletries and clothes to last you four days, although my guess is you’ll be home as soon as tomorrow. Pippa closed the shop last night, opened this morning, and is planning to do the same tonight and tomorrow. She told me to tell you not to even think about going in, but I’ll leave the pair of you to argue about it. She also wants you and Phil to go and stay with her. You’re staying here. Ray’s looking after Phil, Liam will come by the coffee shop to update you mid-morning, and that about covers it.”

No wonder Ray was chilled out these days. I’d always assumed Adam was shagging the anxiety out of him. Nope. Adam wasorganisinghim.

“Apart from Kevin,” Adam continued.

I went rigid. “I don’t think I want to talk about Kevin right now.”

“All right,” he said amiably. To my astonishment, and—if I was brutally honest—to my disappointment, he left it there, and went to call Phil.

24

My own mother hadn’t ever taken as good care of me as Adam Blake did that day.

I was fed, caffeinated (ifyou could call it that,Nespresso)had a shower, was lent towels and a fluffy oversized bathrobe, got caffeinated again, dressed, was handed one of Ray’s messenger bags with a filled water bottle, my fully charged phone, my wallet, keys and an umbrella neatly packed inside, and shooed out the door.

It wasn’t a long walk into town but Adam drove me anyway. By the time he’d dropped me off, I was having serious thoughts about asking if he and Ray were open to being a throuple, because holy shit.

Yesterday I’d found a dead body in my house, my one and only relationship was on very shaky ground, I’d forgotten to close up my own damn business and had been ejected from my own home, and yet here I was. All of my needs met, bizarrely calm, and ready to face the day.

Adam had dropped me in the tiny, staff-only carpark behind the shop and I let myself in through the back door. The dishwasher was humming, the comforting scent of freshly ground beans hung in the air, and the familiar sounds of the shop filtered through.

I unhooked my borrowed messenger bag, took out the phone and water bottle and put them on the counter, then turned to lean against the wall, head tipped back and eyes closed.

Time to gird my loins.

I remembered what it had been like for Ray, back when Kevin had found the first body.

Lots of talk. Lots of gossip and speculation. Accusations in the paper—mostly from Jasper back in his unhinged journalist days—about Ray being a murderer.

I didn’t think that I was going to get the same degree of suspicion thrown my way, but I was definitely going to be the topic of conversation. I didn’t like attention at the best of times.

This was not the best of times.

Still leaning against the wall, I snagged my phone and entered the passcode.

I blinked at it. To my surprise, there was only one message.

Okay. That was great. As already established, I didn’t like attention.

The message was from Suzanne.

Not Kevin. From whom I was expecting our usual good-morning text, if not at leastsomeacknowledgement about the day before.

Deciding that I didn’t have the patience to be tapping away at my phone when it was quicker to make a damn call, I quickly pulled up Suzanne’s contact and dialled.

“You need a place to stay?” she asked gruffly once I’d finished explaining that Phil was hanging out with Ray today. “Haven’t got a spare room, but you and Phil are welcome to my sofa.”

“Appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.”

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