Cinnamon And Secrets (A Cupake Shop Mystery Book 1) Page 11

  “You can drop by the house at your earliest convenience,” I tell her, ending that way our call. I run to my yard, trying not to scare him away like last time. Instead, I plan on sneaking up on him and then making my presence noticeable.

  I walk on my tiptoes as though the street would creak. It’s so cringe-worthy, I know. Suddenly I’m wrapped by joy, and anxiety, and hope, and love altogether. When I’m near enough, I mumble, “Braiden?”

  He almost jumps up, not having expected the interruption. He was about to get the door to Mr. Gleason’s house opened, but I got him midway. He doesn’t turn to face me, hood still on, anxiously thinking of what to do. It looks like he’s so indecisive, and slightly terrified. I can see that in the way his shoulders are starting to wriggle. That sweatshirt is so loose, and he’s also wearing sweatpants. And he looks so perfect, even though you cannot see a single feature on his body displayed, because of the clothing type. After that, he comes to a turning point. Since I’m blocking the staircase with my body, the only way he could go past me is by shoving me away. So instead he runs to the handrails and with an athletic move he jumps away, supporting his weight to the railing and bringing himself to the other part of the porch.

  Oh, boy. I’m going to have to run to him again, since once again he’s proven himself smarter than me. “Braiden, don’t go away, I just want to talk to you,” I howl desperately, letting him know that my intentions are all good. I just care about him too much.

  But he doesn’t respond.

  This time I’m not letting him get away with it. Putting my running skills into use, I make my mind up to chase after him, until he surrenders and decides to face me. God, he seems so fast, and I’m barely catching my breath, but I’m determined not to stop.

  He keeps running, while I trace every step of his, along the porch, the street. Then he takes a left turn, hoping that he’d get out of my sight. But he’s wrong. There’s nowhere he can go that I won’t recognize. I know the area too well, since I’ve lived here for the most part of my life.

  And then I see him stopping. It’s not his house. I frown. Maybe he’s thinking of another way to escape from me. Or maybe, he’s just exhausted. I know I am. But it won’t stop me.

  After that, the unexpected happens. He lifts his hand up on the hood, putting it down. His hair reveals. But it’s long and shiny and auburn. I frown.

  It’s not him.

  It’s a girl.

  “Macey?” I mutter, dumbfounded, eyes gaping shockingly at her. “But how—? What—?”

  “Hello, Ainsley,” she smiles, probably in her mind poking fun of my surprised face. “You’ve been after me quite seriously now, haven’t you? Should I be worried? A restraining order, maybe?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing with Braiden’s sweatshirt?”

  “Braiden’s? Why would you think it is his?” her eyes beam with annoyance.

  “We both know it is his sweatshirt,” I realize that she’s trying to elude any explanations. “What were you doing at Mr. Gleason’s house? How would you explain that one?”

  “I—” she’s stuttering on her words, looking away and then back into my eyes. “I don’t owe you any explanations.” She says, but there’s a glint of insecurity in her eyes now.

  I put the pieces together and come to a decision. “It was you that night. You’ve been there before,” I say with a sense of accomplishment as if I’m coming to realize something. “But you’re right. You don’t have to answer to me, but you have to the police.” I figure that she can’t escape this one and I’m looking at her determinedly, expectantly, voice victorious.

  “You don’t have to do that…” her grudging manners are not so grudging anymore.

  “Is he okay?” She must be in touch with him, being that a) she’s wearing his sweater and b) she’s breaking into the house for him. I gathered just as much.

  “He’s safe and sound.” She explains.

  “What is going on? Where is he? Why didn’t he show up when his house was on fire?” I stop myself long before realizing that I’m drenching her with questions.

  “I think that it’s up to him whether he wants to tell you and what he wants to tell you,” she looks firm and scared somehow.

  “Can I talk to him?” a glint of hope raises within me.

  “I don’t know,” she mutters and looks away. “Look, I don’t know why he’s doing all this, or what his bigger agenda is. But we should give him some space. He deserves that.”

  Well, I don’t want to intrude in his privacy, and somehow Macey’s answer tells me that Braiden needs some privacy. I don’t want to go all cuckoo on her right now. Even though I could. The desperate side of me could haunt her until she tells me the answers that I’m looking for.

  “One more thing,” I look at her, my voice shaky and discomposed. “Are you guys dating?”

  She looks at me in a compassionate way, and I already know what she’s going to say, despite the words coming out of her mouth. “We are.”

  It hits me in a way that I don’t think I’ll be able to recover from for a while. My hearts jerks in my chest, and a shiver runs down my spine as though I’m having a tour in a haunted house.

  I realize that it’s probably time for me to go. After all, it’s not like I’ve got anything more to say in my current condition of speechlessness.

  “Look, I’m so sorry.” The aura in her eyes changes from compassionate to joyous. “But, hey, you didn’t know a thing about this guy. Besides him being incredibly hot. And what’s with all these secrets?”

  I shrug. My confusion has taken all my words away. All I can think about is that probably I will never have him. All the hope and light that he gave to my life—he won’t be giving it anymore.

  “Why don’t you take a vacation?” she comes up with all sorts of ideas just to make me happy. She’s been doing this all day.

  “I don’t need a vacation. I need Braiden.”

  “But, darling, just think about his choices. Of all the girls, he picks up Macey. Macey! The meanest of them all. How could he be so clueless? Unless…” she emphasizes the latter. “He’s just like her. And they’re a perfect match.”

  I guess she’s right. I mean, Macey is pretty and all but that’s just a facade. I can’t think of a single time when she’s been nice to me.

  I didn’t know Macey and Braiden were dating. How could I know? I mean, besides Heather warning me, I just couldn’t put them together as a couple in my head. And there was that part of me that believed we could still work it out. Besides everything, I refused to accept that Braiden and I were done. I don’t know what I was thinking.

  “Anyway, let’s not talk about me anymore. How are things going between you and your new guy?” I figure that staying away from the mess that is my life is the best therapy for me right now.

  “Oh, I didn’t say this, because you were so taken with this situation going on between you and Macey, but last night he told me that I’ve been giving his life a whole lot of meaning, which I know might seem silly, but I think it’s a huge step toward something more serious, don’t you think?”

  “Wow,” I smile, “I’m happy for you.” I take a sip of my tea, and proceed. “So. When am I going to meet this guy?”

  “I was just thinking the same thing. I mean, now that you’ve got plenty of free time we can arrange for a casual luncheon.”

  “I’d love that,” I tell her with a smile, and then I feel something buzzing across the room. Realizing that it’s my phone, I walk toward the spot where I’d thrown it before, and make it to the white futon, scrambling through the cushions.

  Meanwhile, I can see Coral coming inside from the porch and toward the counter where Heather is relaxing. My friend gives him the once over, while Coral purrs in annoyance, and he scrambles the room for me. I never understood the terms of their relationship. But I guess it is what it is. They just don’t like each other and they don�
�t have to pretend the opposite.

  “Hey, mom,” I speak through the phone, after having taken notice of her name on the screen. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh, darling, your father isn’t feeling quite alright today. I guess our skills are not what they used to be. That’s what happens when time takes its toll.”

  “You want me to take over?” I ask immediately.

  “Well, that would be nice. I mean, if you’re not dealing with anything important at the moment.”

  “Oh, nothing like it,” I say assuredly, peering around the room at the mug of tea and recalling my same old routine. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  When I hang up with her, I turn over to Heather and tell her that I have to go. From what she tells me, she doesn’t have anything to do meanwhile as she’s working on some project regarding the evolution of cookies and she has to do a lot of research. And what qualifies better for cookie’s researching than sampling all the latent sorts of cupcakes at my shop? I don’t see how tasting all my cookies would help her with her research, other than just making an excuse for her to indulge herself in various cupcakes free of charge.

  As I’m heading out to the cupcake shop, she tags in, and takes the passenger seat to my car. As I’m starting the engine, I snoop my head down, trying to take a better look at something that caught my eye.

  “Isn’t that Kamron?” I ask her, while she huffily takes the attention off of the miniature mirror in her hand, and takes a gander at the situation across the street.

  “It looks like it.”

  “That’s just bizarre,” I frown, recalling seeing Kamron at Mr. Gleason’s porch earlier this morning. “I thought he took off after I saw him chit-chatting with that lawyer guy.”

  “Maybe he didn’t after all,” Heather offers.

  “Or,” I emphasize, “he took off and then came back to get on with whatever hideous thing it is that he’s dealing with.”

  She looks at me with a mocking smile on her face, “You know, you’re just becoming so suspicious of just about everybody lately. It’s so cute.”

  “It’s not cute,” I correct. “It’s cringy. Though that’s what you get when the house next door turns into a haunting spot from what could possibly be a latent murderer.”

  Heather just squints forward, probably correlating my words to what Kamron is doing at the porch. He’s literally, riotously poking about in every single corner, under the patio chair, under the white futon’s cushions, underneath the vase. He’s just rummaging around the patio for something, I just don’t know what that is.

  “What is he doing?” Heather keeps squinting forward.

  “He’s obviously looking for something. And mock me if you want, but this reeks of suspicion.”

  “What could possibly lie underneath a patio chair?” she shakes her head, incredulously, as if this is the strangest thing that she can find in this situation.

  After that he goes indoors, and through the curtain crooked aside I can see him going through all the cabinets and drawers. He appears in sight, rummaging through some files on the shelves of the sideboard adjacent the wall from across the window. He disappeared into the hidden part of the room, and then appears again to the window, where he’s frowning at something he finds on the stand next to the windowsill. And then he hoists his head toward me. I feel like shifting down on my seat but that would have given away my stalking him. So I just foolishly smile and nod instead. He frowns and goes away.

  “We should probably go,” Heather has noticed the cringe-worthy situation and she comes up with the best solution.

  “That would be perfect,” I connote and we start pulling away.

  Driving to the cupcake shop is a rather recognizable and peaceful routine for me. Somehow I know every spot that I pass by through, and I don’t know why but it kind of gives me some sort of peace. It’s just the security of going through the same routine that you very much recognize.

  When we make it to the shop, I open the door that swings open with a crack, and waddle toward the counter to where my parents are standing. Luckily, the place is empty except for a couple of tables to the corner. Normally I wouldn’t consider this as lucky, but since I’m just changing shifts with my parents, I would prefer not being distracted while on catch-up time.

  “Dad, are you okay?” I ask worriedly.

  “Oh, you know you mother always likes to make a big fuss over the tiniest problems,” he says with a smile, but I know that he always tries to hide every single detail that would get me worried. “Oh, hello, Heather,” he smiles at her as soon as he catches sight of her next to me.

  “Hey, Mr. Holden,” she smiles happily. Oh, she’s just so flirty with just about everybody and it’s so hard not to like her.

  “So, we’re going to head out now,” my mother says. “See you at home?”

  “See you there,” I confirm, while I watch them move away.

  Meanwhile, Heather helps herself in my cabinets and grabs all sorts of cupcakes that she likes, and then drags herself to the counter and starts tasting them.

  As she does so, I look at some customer coming in, whose face seems to strike a chord in me. I’m rummaging through memories to try and attach him to anything recognizable. But all my synapses are so mixed up and everything is just so blurred.

  It’s when he flashes a white, irresistible smile that I seem to come around to remembering him.

  “Well, if it isn’t the best-looking vacationer in town,” I compliment him, feeling like I have to, since his smile is giving me so many mixed singles that are making me dizzy.

  “Hey, Heather,” he says in his beautiful voice, and something inside me melts down. Why should he be so pretty so as to trick me into his magic?

  “Marcus,” I mutter, and as I do so, Heather wriggles her concentration from her cupcakes to the guy standing charmingly in front of us, and frowns. It’s now that I remember of the documents that I captured back at Mr. Gleason’s house. I can’t keep up with my smiling face, but I fear like scowling at him would send him suspicious vibes, so I try to maintain a positive attitude, despite the unsettling freight inside me. “What brings you here? I thought you’ve left the town already.”

  “Well, I’m about to. But while I’m at it, I thought, why not stop by the nice, cozy cupcake shop and grab one of those delicious muffins that you love preparing?”

  “Well, that was nice of you,” I look like a fool, while I’m trying to not come across like a mean scrooge. “So, what can I get started for you?”

  “Just surprise me,” he smiles, while I detect Heather still gaping at him suspiciously. She should probably stop that before he takes notice.

  I get on with picking up something nice for him, but meanwhile I’m a little concerned about leaving Heather and Marcus alone. That is because Heather is an unprompted, childish person who speaks her minds without filters, while Marcus might be after a devious agenda. And you can only imagine what could happen if these two decide to mingle in together and spark a conversation.

  I pick up what I find closest to me, and grab a box to stuff the cupcakes in, in such a hurry. After that, I get back to them to find Heather enjoying her cookies.

  “Here you go,” I smile at him, while handing the box that I’ve put into a paper bag, and he looks at me appreciatively.

  When he rummages through his pocket for money, Heather stops eating, and unnoticeably turns around, facing Marcus.

  “I’m sorry, you’re Braiden’s friend, right?” she says, and something inside me crushes. Damn it, Heather. You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?

  “Um,” he squints, smiles and wriggles his head to one side and back into place. “Yeah, I’m the one.”

  “Hmm,” she mumbles as if to say: Interesting!

  Oh, God. I think she’s leaving it at that. I just didn’t want any trouble right now, you know. Not after everything that has been occurring around town, lately.

  No
wonder a person would want to calm down a little and stay out of trouble’s way.

  “I hope you enjoyed your vacation,” I smile at him, as he’s about to turn around and leave.

  “Well it was a nice town. Though I wouldn’t say that I got everything that I came here for.”

  I give him an apologetic smile, while he moves away, but Heather stops him halfway.

  “Why is that?” she asks, and I almost cringe into place.

  “Pardon?” he swings around, and faces her.

  “How come you didn’t fulfil your goals? Is it because the person who could help with those ends is currently unreachable?”

  “Heather!” Like, God, where does she think she’s going with this?

  “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m really following,” he frowns, not losing his temper just yet.

  “Oh, come on, are we really going to go through the motions, and act like everything is so swell, when it really isn’t? I mean, even when something as horrible as homicide takes place?”

  “What do you think that I did?” he frowns, and doesn’t look so calm anymore, looking at Heather expectantly.

  “Marcus, I’m sorry—” I try to calm things down, but it seems like it’s already a little too late.

  “We know about the contract, and about you wanting to buy Mr. Gleason’s propriety. The paperwork lies still there, unsigned. It must be hurting, doesn’t it, to know that the other part can’t hold their end of the bargain?”

  Marcus seems uncertain for a moment as if he’s running through what Heather told him. I’m so on the fence as to whether or not I should interfere. He squints for a moment, and I get distracted by his prettiness. He has such an assured personality and he looks like he just came out of a photo shoot.

  “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not interested on that contract.” He squints and looks somewhere downwards, while Heather raises an eyebrow. “I mean, I am, but this isn’t toiling for me as much as it is for…” he stops as though he caught himself spilling out words that he shouldn’t.

  “For whom?” I encourage him to keep going, while I hunch my chin forward, eyes bulging expectantly.