Dane’s expression was unreadable. “There’s always a choice. And if you wanted to sell, Harold would be a good target. He was on the town council, working to stop the Hearthstone development.”
I wasn’t following. “What does that have to do with selling the house, the bakery?”
“Luxury homes will increase property values all around,” Dane said. “You’ll come away with a small fortune if the development is approved.”
Anger flared in my chest. How dare he?
“As you were so happy to point out, I wasn’t even in touch with Aunt Evelyn. Not really. I never expected to inherit anything from her, so how could I even know what was going on here in Blackwell Hollow?” I continued without waiting for him to answer, feeling defensive in spite of my protestations. “And I’m certainly not counting dollar bills now when all I can think about is the fact that I wasn’t here for Aunt Evelyn when she needed me.” I was getting angrier and angrier. “So you can just… just…”
He lifted one dark eyebrow.
“You can just… just… fudge off, Dane Calder!”
His mocking laughter followed me all the way to the door, all the more infuriating for the fact that our argument hadn’t just pissed me off.
It had turned me on.
What the fudge?
18
AVERY
I spentthe rest of the evening in my room, fuming about the conversation with Dane.
How couldhethinkIwas a suspect?
I mean, okay, I was a suspect. Sheriff Crowe had made that pretty clear, even if she hadn’t come out and said it. But that was just a formality. We were all suspects just because we’d been on the property when I’d found Harold’s body.
But to think I’d actually kill someone? For money?
At some point Beck knocked on my bedroom door to tell me they’d ordered Chinese food, but I told him I wasn’t hungry.
Through the door.
So I didn’t have to see his handsome face and remember that I’d kissed Noah by the lake just one day after making out with Beck.
Apparently murder made me horny?
Ugh. I hated this.
I took deep breaths as I paced, replaying the conversation for the hundredth time. He’d been needling me, that was all, trying to get a reaction. But he’d been right about one thing: I had been on the property when Harold was killed or shortly thereafter.
But so had Beck, Noah, and Dane.
And as much as I liked Beck and Noah, it would be foolish — and possibly dangerous — to ignore the possibility that they’d been involved somehow. Because if I was wrong about them, I was living with a murderer or two.
Or maybe even three.
It was after ten p.m. by the time the rumbling in my stomach drove me downstairs. Once again, the house was dark except for the lamp in the second-floor sitting area, the other bedroom doors closed.
I was grateful Beck and Noah hadn’t pushed me to come downstairs earlier. My life had gotten more than a little confusing in the two days I’d been in Blackwell Hollow. I needed a minute, something they seemed to understand.
I descended the stairs, passed the grandfather clock with its rhythmic ticking, and continued down the hall to the kitchen. There were a ridiculous number of Chinese food containers in the fridge, so I dished myself some veggie lo mein and General Tso’s chicken, threw it in the microwave, and ate it standing up at the island.
And this time my mind didn’t go to murder but to Noah and the mini-make-out session we’d shared by the lake.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been excited by a guy.