Page 32 of Frosted and Sliced

“Really,” Cotton said. His glance fell curiously on Burke. Georgie knew he was dying of curiosity about him, as most people probably were but, being Maine, no one would pry. Burke’s placid expression gave no clues. With a “hmm,” Cotton stood and moved aside so Georgie and Burke could have the chairs.

“You wanted to talk to me?” Brody said, darting Georgie a worried look. She wondered what he thought this was about and had a sudden flush, thinking maybe he thought it was some kind of marriage proposal scenario. Did he think Burke was going to ask for her hand in marriage? My lands.

Both men watched her as she used her hand to fan her face, trying to force the color out of it. “Hot in here,” she croaked.

Thankfully neither of them made comment on her sudden discomfort. They once again faced each other and seemed to be waiting the other out in a game of who-will-crack-first. Since Burke was the one who wanted to know information, he finally spoke.

“If I say maple, does that mean anything to you?”

Brody blinked at Burke a few times and then fixed his eyes on his sister, awaiting an explanation. Georgie wasn’t certain she should be the one to give it, because she had no idea what was going on.

“There’s been chatter,” she helpfully volunteered.

“Like chipmunks? Do you have squirrels in the inn? Because they love the stuff,” Brody said. He was being serious, she could tell by the set of his eyebrows, but that only made it funnier and she gave a nervous giggle snort she tried and failed to swallow. The brows of doom dipped toward annoyance and she pressed her lips together, tossing the conversational ball back to Burke.

“Someone broke into Georgie’s inn,” he blurted.

Okay, that was not the way. Brody jetted halfway out of his chair, startled. “What?” He looked around the office. For guns? Ammo? Other people to form a posse? Whatever he was looking for he didn’t seem to find because he eventually sank back into the chair and repeated in a more reasoned tone, “What? Did they take something? Are you okay? Who was it? Why? Did you catch them?”

“Those were a lot of questions,” Georgie said, not knowing where to begin.

Brody tuned her out and focused instead on Burke.Men,Georgie thought, feeling summarily dismissed. On the other hand, she was thankful for men because she certainly didn’t want to deal with the man in black on her own.

“I was away on business. Last night when I got home,” Burke swallowed hard and faced Georgie, “Georgie was petrified. She said she saw someone dressed in black in the inn. He took a step toward her. I checked the security feed.” Brody interrupted with a little noise, but Georgie couldn’t discern if it was dismay or approval without seeing his face and instead her eyes were on Burke. He looked shaken, if such a thing were possible. She didn’t know why she got that sense, but she did. Was Burke worried? About her? “He wasn’t on it. So I did some poking in some surveillance stuff and found some Bulgarian chatter about maple.”

“What does Bulgarian chatter sound like?” Georgie asked. It was a genuine question. Would she be able to understand someone who spoke with a Bulgarian accent? But Burke touched a finger to her lips, one side of his mouth quirking with amusement.

Brody cleared his throat. “What?”

Georgie laughed again, nervously, and the movement of her lips against Burke’s finger became a kiss. He withdrew his finger and stared at it, frowning as if trying to figure out how the gesture got away from him.

In her peripheral she saw Brody put his hands to the hair at his temples and give it a hard yank. “I’m sorry, but what is going on? Bulgarian chatter? Maple syrup? Chipmunks? Is one of us high? Is it me?” He sounded genuinely concerned and Georgie felt bad. Brody didn’t do well with confusion. He liked being in the know as much as he liked being in charge. Not a lot of room for surprises in Brody’s world.

“Apparently Burke thinks some kind of spy thing is going on and it involves my inn and Bulgarians and maple syrup,” Georgie said and frowned. In retrospect, that hadn’t added a lot of clarity.

Burke held up a hand to get their attention. “To be fair, I never said maplesyrup, that was your assumption. And there’s been no mention of chipmunks.”

“What if the chipmunks are Bulgarian?” Georgie inserted. Burke’s cheek ticked again and he flicked her knuckle.

Brody’s eyes bounced between them. “What I’m getting so far is that some Bulgarian rodents have a maple syrup addiction, and I so do not have time for this.” He made as if he were going to stand and Georgie panicked.

“Brody, no, wait. We’re serious. Burke is a…well, he’s, you know…” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Spy stuff. He took me to see The Oracle, and The Oracle told him the Bulgarians were here. And maple.”

Brody stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “Who is maple?”

“Not necessarily a who, but probably a what,” she said.

“Georgette,” Brody snapped.

She jumped and Burke intervened once again. “I came here to ask a few questions. Maybe we should start there. Is anything unusual happening?”

Brody gaped at him. “You mean besides the fact that my sister has a stranger in her attic who takes her to a gypsy and bangs on about maple syrup? No, everything is status quo.” He rubbed his first two fingers in the middle of his forehead.

“The Oracle is,” Georgette began, but Burke cut her off by gently squeezing her knee. He gave a little shake of his head and mouthed,Classified.

“I can read lips,” Brody said dryly. “A side effect of having a hearing impaired sister.”

Burke faced him. “Has anything unusual in town happened lately? Any out of the ordinary people or crime?”

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