Under normal circumstances, she would have imagined the worst-robbers or aliens or something-but right now she didn’t care.
“Gracie?”
Riley’s voice. The man didn’t give up.
“In here,” she called, her voice low and thick with pain. Everything hurt.
A light clicked on in the hallway. Seconds later he appeared in her room.
“What happened? Are you sick?”
“I wish. At least I could get better. Or die. Either way the problem would be solved.”
He sat on the edge of the mattress and brushed the hair out of her face. “Tell me what’s going on?”
She picked up the cell phone and pushed the buttons to replay the messages, then handed it to him.
He listened for a few minutes. When he turned off the phone, she found herself fighting tears.
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “If I had, I could accept what they’re doing. But I didn’t, and no one will listen. My business is all about reputation. Now it’s gone. I get to keep the two cakes for this weekend because it’s too late for the brides to find someone else. Just about everyone else has canceled, except for the stupid sheet cake the historical society wants me to do and I’m sure the only reason they haven’t canceled is that I’m doing it for free.”
She saw anger tighten his expression. He bent down and kissed her.
“We’ll fix this,” he promised.
“Not to make trouble, but how?”
“We’ll figure something out. We’re a great team. Come on. We’re going to go stalk Pam. I’ve already got my detective working on learning everything we can about her. There are secrets in her past and we’re going to find them. In the meantime, let’s go get some incriminating pictures.”
Gracie shook her head. “You go.”
“Not without you.”
He grabbed her arms and pulled her into a sitting position, then he crouched in front of her.
“Come on, Gracie. Let’s go ruin Pam. It will be fun.”
The urge to simply curl back up in bed nearly overwhelmed her. She would have given in except she had the thought that if she did, she might never get up again, and that couldn’t be good.
“Okay. Give me a second to get changed.”
She stood and walked to her closet. The clothing choices seemed overwhelming. Riley moved next to her then reached inside for a pair of black jeans and a dark purple T-shirt.
“Very fashion forward,” he said, draping the clothes over her arm and pushing her toward the bathroom. “You have three minutes to get changed.”
“Where did you ever hear an expression like ‘fashion forward’?”
He grinned. “Are you kidding? The style network is really big on the oil rig. All those half-naked models draw us in, but the runway news keeps us riveted.”
She smiled, which felt weird, but nice. “I’ll be right out.”
Ten minutes later they were in his car and heading across town in the rapidly dwindling twilight.
She stared out the windshield and tried to keep her sighing to a minimum.
“You don’t have time for this,” she told him. “The election is in a couple of weeks.”
“I’ve got it covered. I’ll start going door-to-door in a day or two.”
“Are you behind in the polls?”
“I’m holding my own.”
She looked at him. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m-”
“Riley, I’m not a baby. I can handle it. What are the numbers?”
“Still falling.”
How much of that was her fault? If she hadn’t come back to Los Lobos, none of this would have happened.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “About all of it.”
“I’m sorry about the cake disaster, but not the rest of it.”
“What? Are you crazy? You could lose. Have you considered that? It’s ninety-seven million dollars.”
“I won’t lose.”
“But if you do. And what if I’m pregnant?”
That seemed to get his attention. “Are you?”
She slumped down in the seat. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I can take the pregnancy test in three days. But what if I am?”
“We’ll deal with it.”
He spoke calmly, which wasn’t what she expected. In his position, she had a feeling she would be both furious and screaming. But after the day she’d had, she appreciated the lack of dramatics.
“I’ll try not to be pregnant,” she said.
“I don’t think it works that way.”
He drove down a street she thought she recognized, then parked behind a minivan.
“Pam’s house is over there,” he said, pointing to a house on the corner. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“Shouldn’t one of us be humming the theme from
“Only if it’s important to you.”
“I guess not.”
She followed down the sidewalk. Streetlights illuminated much of the area, but there were still puddles of darkness to hide in.
When Riley ducked into a side yard, she followed. They made their way into the backyard and crouched by some bushes.
“She didn’t close her blinds,” he whispered.
“She probably didn’t expect to be spied on. It’s not something I think about either. Although given what’s happening in my life, I guess I should.”
“There,” he said, pointing.
Gracie strained to see in the window. Pam stood in the kitchen, pouring something from a large bowl into a-
“That bitch has my baking pans!”
The loud words filled the silence of the night. Even as Riley grabbed her and pulled her down next to him, she slapped both hands over her mouth.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I know.” He spoke the words directly into her ear.
The soft sound was distracting enough, but when combined with the heat of his breath and the way his strong arms supported her, she started to go all gooey inside.
This was neither the time nor the place, she reminded herself as she dropped to her knees and shoved her hands into her pockets.
“She has my baking pans.”
“I gathered that.”
“Why would she take my baking pans?”
“Not a clue.”
Gracie considered the possibilities. “To make her own cakes? But why?” She rose up slightly so she could see in the window again. Pam bent over the oven, positioning the cake.
“The rack’s too high,” she murmured. “The edges are going to burn. If she was planning to steal my business, she should have asked more questions.”
She turned to him. “Is that it? Is Pam going to steal my business?”
“Why would she want to? She seems to have enough money of her own.”
“You’re right. Someone is paying for very expensive clothing,” Gracie said. “And there’s the bed-and-breakfast. That wasn’t cheap. Okay, now I’m completely confused. What is she doing?”
