However, by the look on his face, he didn’t find it as amusing as she did. “I’ve been experimenting again.” She held out her hand. He took it, hoisting himself back to a standing position. His fall hadn’t been very graceful, but he seemed to recover well enough.
“What is it that you were trying to make, exactly?” He sighed, wiping his hands on his already dirty uniform.
She reached out and started brushing off the goop that had landed on his six-pack abs. “I told you. I’m a caterer. You need it, I’ll find a way to make it. Nothing too exotic or out there for me. I once made a wedding cake that looked like two Harleys. The tires were actually edible,” she said with a smile.
“Edible tires?”
She shrugged. “Always hated it when something on a cake had to be taken off because it wasn’t edible. Kind of like a room that isn’t used because it’s only for decoration. So, when I started this business, I decided to make my specialty, unique anything, and everything edible. Basically, what the customer wants, the customer gets. But in this sleepy town, the customer sometimes stifles my creativity. But I still try to pawn off my so-called unique creations at every local bakery, school function, and even at church on Sunday.”
“How’s that working for you?”
“Well, it had been easier to make a living in Los Angeles where most of my customers were paying customers and everyone wanted something different, maybe a tad too different.”
“What do you mean by too different?” he asked.
“Once I was asked to make a meatloaf in the form of the male anatomy. I can live without work like that.”
“Yeah, I bet,” he said with a smile. God, how she loved the way his lips curved. It made his eyes twinkle with mischief.
She reached out to wipe some of the goop off his pants.
He stepped back. “I’m good.”
“Um, not really. You’re kind of covered in crap.”
“What is all this stuff anyway?”
“Like I said, I’ve been experimenting with some old recipes that Grandma left me, but they didn’t come out right, so I had to toss them. Otherwise, I bring them to the fire station. Your station. Neighbors.”
“If I haven’t thanked you for that, I’m sorry. Everyone loves your cooking. But isn’t it wasteful to toss stuff? Not to mention, expensive?”
“Well, only if they hadn’t tasted like a pumpkin pie made with rock salt, which doesn’t happen too often.”
He laughed. “My mother actually did that once. It was horrible.”
“I know. I remember.” She shook her head at the memory. “That was a long time ago.”
“Indeed.” He held his hands out to the sides and shook them. “What the heck is that?” He kicked his pant leg, the one covered in the greenish stuff that now looked more like snot than it did frosting.
“Oh, God. It can’t be. No way.” She fisted her hands.
“Huh?”
She ignored him for the moment as she scooted past him. She pushed the tipped over cans aside. “Shit. That cake took me forever to make. I promised little Nicky Dalton I’d bring it to school for his Halloween party.” She yanked open the freezer. “How the heck did those mongrels get in there?” She knew the raccoons couldn’t have gotten in the refrigerator without a little help, and dead women didn’t eat cake. Damn. When she’d offered to give Jake McNally, Owen’s nephew, any sweets he wanted to help with her little plan, she hadn’t meant the cake in the freezer. Actually, she had specifically told him that was off limits. He wasn’t even to look in the damn freezer.
Owen reached from behind her and moved the freezer top up and down. “That’s a very good question,” he said before closing the freezer. “That top is heavy. Too heavy for a raccoon to open it. Could you have left it open?”
She could have, but she didn’t and neither did the ghost breathing down her neck. Courtney pictured Jake’s guilty face covered in a combination of chocolate and green slop. “Maybe unlatched, but not open like this.” She was going to have to have a talk with that young man.
Maybe you shouldn’t have brought that kid into your plan. Maybe you should just tell Owen he’s your soulmate. You never know, he might be more receptive than you think.
Right. Maybe you should just mind your own business, Grandma.
“I noticed your garage door was open when I came home earlier. When did you close it?”
“Maybe a half hour ago, or so. I guess I trapped them inside by accident. But that doesn’t explain the freezer.” She made her eyes go wide as she turned. If she could get him to open his heart and mind to the reality of her special talents, and his, well, that might get his attention. “I bet my Grandma did it.”
Great. Blame it on me when I didn’t do anything.
Better than blaming it on Jake. Owen would probably put the child in jail just to prove a point.
This is true.
He arched a brow. “Lilly? Um. How could she have done that when she passed away?”
“What? You don’t believe in ghosts?” she asked, trying not to smile. “My grandmother is here. I can feel her. Even smell her.” She’d leave out the talking part until he was at least in her bed.
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.” As he shook his leg and tiptoed across the garage, the rake by the garbage can toppled over, crashing into the cement floor with a loud pop. “Going to try to tell me that was your grandmother?”
It was, you big oaf.
Grandma! Stop it.
He paused and scratched his head, looking around the garage.
“Tell me you don’t feel her presence.”
“I don’t,” he said, staring at her. No, he shot daggers at her with his narrowed glare. “Miss Nash.”
“Why won’t you call me Courtney? It’s not like I haven’t known you most of my life.”
“It’s a
