Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) (24 page)

My favorite apparatus was “the swing,” and I was just tipsy enough to think about buying it. I was finally able to put a name to the apparatus Gretchen Wilder had been using, and boy did I want one.

When Donna told me that she’d give me a twenty percent discount off the two hundred
dollar sales price I was sold. Apparently, I could install it above my bed with a standard hook, and when I needed to take it down I could replace it with a fern to keep people from asking what the hook above my bed was for. It was a brilliant plan, only it was all ruined by one of the other teachers asking me how things were going with finding a new place to live. It was like a bucket of cold water being poured on my head, and I realized spending two hundred dollars for an apparatus I didn’t currently have a partner for—Nick and I weren’t quite at the swinging monkey sex stage of our relationship—would not be the most fiscally responsible thing to do.  

Donna and I both huffed at the loss of the sale
, so I bought a battery operated toy called the Mr. Incredible to make up for it. No one needed a man if they owned one of those suckers.

We all toddled out the door a little after nine, bags full of goodies and door prizes loaded into our arms. I was just tipsy enough to tell myself that if I went by Dairy Queen and got a double fudge sundae to dilute the alcohol, I should be able to make it home okay. I gave Rose Marie a cheerful hug and
didn’t protest at all as she took my keys and shoved me in the front seat of her canary yellow Beetle.

I heard the television blaring in my apartment when I got to the door, my arms full of bags. 

Nick opened the door before I could
remember that Rose Marie had taken my keys and forgotten to give them back. I fell forward, as I’d been leaning my head against the door. He caught me in a crashing heap that sent both of us to the floor, and I took advantage of my position by tangling my fingers in his hair and planting my lips onto his.

“Mmmm,” I said, nipping at his bottom lip. “You taste good.” 

The gel from the party was still tingling its way through my body. I gasped as he put his hands on my hips and pulled me close enough to tell that Mr. Incredible didn’t hold a candle to Nick Dempsey. 

“Have I ever told you that I take yoga classes three times a week? I’m very flexible,” I slurred.

“Dear God in Heaven,” Nick said, crushing his mouth back to mine. “You taste like chocolate fudge and Raspberry Schnapps. I think it’s a combination I’m not going to be able to take advantage of tonight.” He peeled me off his delectable body, and hefted me up under the arms to get me to my feet. I gave him the dopey grin of the pleasantly drunk. 

“Are you drunk?”

“Nope,” I said, giggling. “I went to Dairy Queen and got a chocolate sundae to dilute the alcohol. I’m good to go.”

“How did you get home?” he asked, finally getting around to shutting the front door.

I could see the tic in his jaw working and just wanted to bite it. He was so sexy when he was angry. 

“
I rode in a yellow bug. It was very small. How else would I get here?” I headed into the living room to fall on the couch. The game was still on, and I settled in to watch, blissfully unaware of the predatory male who was still staring after me. 

“
You rode home in a yellow bug? Are you high? What kind of party was this?”

I laughed until tears rolled down my face. “Can you go get my car for me? I parked it on the street, but I don’t remember which one.”

“Sure, I’ll put a BOLO out for a red Z somewhere in the state of Georgia. We should be able to find it in no time.”

“You’re the best,” I said, giving him a lusty wink.

Nick looked resigned and shook his head at me, but I could see the threat of a smile lurking in the corner. He picked up the large bag I’d dropped near the door and looked inside, making his way into the living room.

“Umm, Addison, I hate to break this to you, but this is not Tupperware.” 

He held up the Mr. Incredible between two fingers, his eyes glittering with laughter. “You want to tell me what kind of party you went to?”

He tossed
the device onto the coffee table, and I watched the Mr. Incredible bounce off the twice and land on the floor. I stifled a giggle on one of the couch pillows. 

“It was a passion party, and it was wonderful,” I said, stretching out on the couch. “I’m a very passionate person, I’ll have you know. I took a test that told me so. I got a perfect score.”

Nick rolled his eyes and kept looking through the bag. “You didn’t have to take a test to know that you’re passionate, babe. I could have told you that if you’d asked.” 

The banked desire in his eyes was enough to rekindle the gel I’d slathered on earlier, not to mention that one look at Nick was enough to send my natural hormones into orgasmic bliss.  He upended the bag on the table, and I finally got a look at everything I’d purchased that night. It looked like I’d bought the entire catalog.

“I think I got a little carried away,” I said, looking at all the toys and creams. I groaned as he laid down next to me on the couch, the feel of his hard body next to mine making me want like nothing I ever had before.

Nick put his leg between mine and brought us together slowly, kissing his way up my neck, around to my ear and finally finding my mouth. 

“God, you feel good,” I said, straining closer. “I’ve heard it takes a person two years to get past the point where they can have a relationship without it being considered a rebound. Two years feels like a pretty long time right now.”

I curled my leg around his hip and we both groaned as our bodies aligned perfectly. My nails bit into his shoulders and I hissed out a breath as his hand came between us and palmed my breast.

“Oh, baby. You have no idea how good I feel.” He whispered the words against my lips and I all but melted beneath him. “But I can promise you’re going to find out a hell of a lot sooner than two years.” He kissed his way along my jaw to my ear and bit down on my earlobe, scrambling the remaining brain cells I had.

“Oh,
God,” I said. And then I passed out.

Tuesday

I woke up alone on the couch, the haze of sleep still clouding my vision, and the beat of a thousand tiny men marching through my skull. I leaned up gingerly and noticed the throw that covered me, and I looked to the table where dozens of sexual aids sat staring at me. If Nick wasn’t scared off by those maybe he
was
the man for me.

The clock on the wall said it was
almost noon, and panic gripped my belly before I remembered school was out. Thunder rumbled outside and I could tell by the water level in the buckets I had sitting around that it had been raining awhile. Storm clouds roiled menacingly, almost black, and lightning crackled through the sky like fiery whips.

A raging thunderstorm
seemed an appropriate backdrop for someone who had a monumental hangover. But rain or no rain, I had a hot date in less than seven hours to prepare for, and it was time to put on my big girl panties.

I scooped all the sex toys back into the sack and shoved them in the far recesses of my closet.
I took four aspirin, showered, and threw on a camouflage green short skirt and olive green tank top that matched my complexion. I felt almost normal by the time I opened my fridge and saw it full of the things that Nick had bought the other morning. I grabbed a Diet Coke and a bag of pretzels and went in search of the phone to call Kate.

I’d gone through all but
one of the surveillance cases Kate had passed my way and decided to see if she had a few more. I hadn’t started the surveillance on Harry Manilow because I hadn’t had a chance to get back to Savannah, and I still had John Hyatt and Fanny Kimble on the backburner, though unofficially since I’d kind of promised Kate I’d drop the case.

I had to keep working because I still needed the money for my house just in case Veronica got
saline poisoning and couldn’t follow up on her threat to buy it out from under me. As far as the other threats went, Nick assured me the police would be driving by to check on me, so I felt relatively safe there would be someone nearby if I ran into trouble.

Before I reached the phone, I noticed the blinking red light on my machine. I had six missed calls
. I hit the voicemail button and munched on pretzels while I waited.

“This is Mark Mathers at Whiskey Bayou Bank and Trust. I’m the Vice-President for Mortgage Operations. I need you to call me back regarding your loan for the property at 522 Hutton Street.”

He hung up and I took a drink of Coke. I remembered hearing the phone ring several times the day before and winced in regret as I’d shrugged off the calls as unimportant. But at least the bank was calling me. Maybe things were going to work out after all. The next message started and I ate another pretzel.

“This is Mark Mathers again at Whiskey Bayou Bank and Trust. I
still haven’t heard back from you regarding your loan application. I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve decided to opt out of our contract with you concerning the property on Hutton Street. Another buyer has met the full requirements for purchasing at this time, and as it states in your contract we have the option of going with a more qualified buyer. Your initial down payment has been deposited back into your account. Please contact me if you have any questions.”

The pretzels in my mouth suddenly took on the consistency of sawdust, so I took another drink to clear the taste. The pretzels turned to paste in my mouth and I started to cry, big heaving sobs that would eventually give me hiccups and swollen eyes.

“Well, so much for everything working out,” I said, hiccupping as I tried to hold back a fresh batch of tears. “Stupid contract. Stupid bank.”

I dropped down to the floor in a little ball and cried my heart out. Maybe if I
were lucky some poor sap would find me dead on the floor after I’d choked to death from a wad of pretzel dough stuck in my throat. I’d be the Mama Cass of Whiskey Bayou, except without the soundtrack.

Everything I’d been working for
all this time was for nothing. I’d degraded myself in front of strangers and stumbled over dead bodies in the pursuit of my dreams, but it all came down to nothing. It was a devastating realization. And pathetic.

The wet plop on my forehead that had nothing to do with tears was the last straw. I looked up at the ceiling from my position on the floor and saw the new water spot and moisture gathering
at its center.

I was going to do something drastic. I knew this because I had the same feeling in my gut now as I did the morning I answered the ad in the paper for The Foxy Lady. I was going to find somewhere better to live than that stupid house on Hutton Street.

I grabbed my bag and didn’t bother with an umbrella or galoshes. I waded out to the parking lot and shook my fist at the
sky, as the heavens seemed to open and pour more water onto Whiskey Bayou. The water was halfway up my tires and I wondered not for the first time why I couldn’t have been more practical and gotten a Jeep or a monster truck to navigate washed out country roads.

“I don’t get this wet in the shower,” I
mumbled. I searched in my bag for my keys, but couldn’t find them. It was then I realized Nick had somehow found out where I’d left my car the night before and brought it to me. I opened the door and saw the keys on the floorboard along with a note.

Interesting friends you have. She asked if I would be willing to sleep with you—Nick

I could only assume the friend he was talking about was Rose Marie, since she was the person who’d confiscated my keys. I tried to look at her comment to Nick in a positive light. Rose Marie probably wanted me to be happy and wasn’t thinking she’d made me look pathetic and desperate. I wasn’t going to worry about it. I had a new purpose in life.

I climbed into the car and took off my shoes, tossing them in the floorboard on the passenger side.
I breathed a sigh of relief as the Z started with no problem and I rammed it into reverse. I looked behind me and pressed the gas pedal, slogging my way out of the parking lot and towards downtown Whiskey Bayou. Visibility was almost zero and I was fortunate there were no other cars on the road as I sped down Main Street with rage boiling in my blood. It seemed I had a little pent up resentment from the bank’s phone call after all.

I noticed something on the side of the road
and slowed down a little. I was pretty sure it was some kind of large animal, but I couldn’t see well enough to be sure. The only thing I did know was that it wasn’t in good shape. I was trying to decide if I should stop and try to squeeze it into the Z or call animal control when it ran into the street right in front of me.

I slammed on the bra
kes and the Z hydroplaned, turning at an odd angle as it skated along the street. It was everything I could do to maintain control of the wheel. The car hit something solid and my teeth smacked together and my head jerked back and hit the headrest as impact was made.