Stuck on Murder Read Online Free Page A

kitchen. She noticed the TV was off.
    “Catch the game tonight?” she asked.
    “The Red Sox got lucky,” he replied.
    “Lucky? Ha! They spanked your precious Yankees,” she said. “What was the final score? I can’t recall.”
    “Tentothree,” he mumbled.
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t catch that.”
    He looked chagrined. “Ten to three, as you know full well.”
    “Yes, but I just love to hear it coming from a Yankee fan’s lips,” she said.
    He squinted at her. “There will be payback.”
    “Maybe,” she said, but her voice was doubtful.
    She placed the casserole dish on a round cast-iron trivet on the cobalt blue tile counter, while Nate let Hank out the back door and then fetched two plates, two forks, and a large serving spoon.
    “S’mores casserole, eh?” he asked. He leaned close over the dish and inhaled. “Smells awesome.”
    “I just threw it together,” she said with a shrug. He had no idea how true that was, and she didn’t plan to enlighten him.
    She studied him as he dug the big spoon into the dish. With his wavy hair hanging over his brow just so and his rugged features, he was unquestionably a handsome man. But it was his watchfulness that always caught her off guard. He had a way of looking at her, of giving her his full attention, which made her feel as if she were the most important person in the world. She could absolutely see why the art world had gone gonzo for him. He was a genius and a hottie, a lethal combination, for sure.
    Nate pushed a plate in front of her. Her casserole appeared to be a gooey mess, but that seemed right, given the sticky situation she found herself in. How was she going to tell Nate what the mayor said? Should she just lob it out there and hope he responded well? Or should she lead up to it slowly, and hope he caught on?
    She watched as he spooned a bite of the decadent casserole into his mouth.
    “Mayor Ripley thinks you should sell half of your property around the lake to the town so they can develop it for tourism and he wants you to spearhead the campaign.” It all came out in a rush and some of the words blurred together, but judging by his bug-eyed expression, Nate got the gist.
    He opened his mouth to speak and promptly began to choke. Brenna looked at him in alarm as he began to cough and splutter. She reached around and thumped him on the back. Hard.
    He held up a hand and nodded that he was okay but still he hacked. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. He took a long sip and then shook his head.
    “You want to run that by me when I don’t have my mouth full?” he asked.
    “Sorry,” she said. She gave him an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to spew it out like that. Mayor Ripley stopped by my decoupage class tonight. Apparently, Ed Johnson told him that you and I are friends.” She found it difficult to meet his gaze at this point and turned her attention to twirling her fork in the dessert on her plate.
    “And?” he prompted her. She glanced quickly at his face, but his features were set and she couldn’t fathom what he was thinking. Still, she felt oddly pleased that he didn’t balk at the term friends .
    “Oh, and so Mayor Ripley thought I should be the one to tell you to sell your property and star in the campaign to court tourists.”
    “Hmm. And what do you think I should do?” he asked her.
    His gray eyes were intent upon her face, and Brenna was again hit with the sensation that she had captured his complete attention. It was flattering and a bit unnerving.
    “That’s really up to you, isn’t it?” she asked.
    “Yes, but I want to know what you think,” he said.
    She looked over her shoulder through the living room window toward the lake and said, “I like it the way it is.”
    He gave her a warm smile. They ate silently for a few moments, the steady tick-tock of the kitchen clock the only sound in the small house.
    “When does Dim Dipley expect you to report