Page 10 of Murder on the Page

Zack raised both hands. At six-foot-four, he dwarfed me. Prior to being recently sworn in as the crime investigative detective for the Bramblewood Police Department, he had served in the army. His stint had helped pay for the criminal justice degree he earned in college.

“What are you making?” He padded to me as if heavy footsteps might damage my creations.

“Sugar cookies.”

“Yum.”

Darcy sprinted from the llama to Zach and circled his ankles. The cat’s tail twitched with curiosity. Zach bent to pet him, giving him a good stroke beneath his chin. Satisfied that he’d dominated the human, Darcy sprang onto the llama’s head and resumed his nap. On Zach’s and my first date, which wasn’t really a date—he’d stopped by to say he was going for coffee; did I want to come?—Zach revealed he was an animal person. He’d had a menagerie growing up: cats, dogs, turtles, rabbits. His mother, who had been raised on a farm, couldn’t say no to any of them.

I pushed open the door to the kitchen. “Come with me.”

He did.

The door swung shut. I washed my hands, as I always did, and asked Zach to do the same. Then I grabbed an undecorated cookie and offered it to him. “Here you go. How’s it going, Mr. Detective?”

“Good.” He ate the cookie in two bites and asked for another.

“I can only spare a few.”

“A few will have to do.” He leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “Gee, you look pretty today.”

“Pfft.”

“Your cheeks are glowing.”

“Because it’s hot in here.” Not because I was lusting after this man.Uh-uh, not that.

“Hey, I heard there’s going to be a concert tomorrow night in Asheville. A sing-along. Want to go?”

“I’m pretty booked up.”

“It’s right after your party at Feast for the Eyes. If I help you clean up the dishes . . .”

Feast for the Eyes was where he and I had met. I’d seen him around town before, but he’d come across as aloof. Notdisdainfulaloof. Simplyreservedaloof, as if weighing his responses. At the bookshop, we hadn’t exchanged names or telephone numbers until the day when each of us was browsing the self-help section. He’d been looking for a book to explore his inner child. I’d been searching for a book for Fern. No, it wasn’t a spiteful gift. When not reading about quantum physics or obscure concepts like the Fibonacci sequence, my mother devoured self-helpwhatever.Over chatter about whetherThe Self-Love Experimentmight be good for her, Zach admitted that he also liked reading thrillers, and I said I enjoyed traditional mysteries, as well as the classics likeJane EyreandThe Great Gatsby.Standing at the checkout register, hehappened to mention that he could barbecue a mean steak. He hadn’t invited me over yet to test the veracity of that claim.

I heard the front door to my house open. Seconds later, Tegan appeared outside the kitchen door, a shopping bag in each hand. I allowed her to enter.

“Auntie booted me out of the shop again. She’s fine. She thought you might need extra supplies. Oh—” She caught sight of Zach. “Well, hello there.”

He smiled. “Hi.”

Tegan tilted her head and snapped her fingers. “Gee, you look familiar. Are you a movie star?”

“Ha-ha! Yeah, I get that a lot, Tegan. Allie . . .” He tattooed the counter. “I should be going.”

“Not on my account,” Tegan said.

“Absolutely not. I could chat with you all day.” He winked at her, the flirt. “No, I’ve got to meet with the chief of police.”

I didn’t know Zach well enough to guess whether he aspired to becoming the chief one day, but I’d bet he’d be good at it.

“See you after tomorrow’s tea, Allie. Remember, I’ll dry.” He swiped one more cookie and strolled out of the kitchen, chuckling.

“He’ll dry?” Tegan placed her bags on the floor as the front door clacked shut. “Explain.”

“He’ll dry dishes after the tea.”

“Ooh-la-la.I’d say, my sweet friend, that he is clearly smitten with you.”

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