Jill Shalvis - Get a Clue

And then he set out to show her…

The next morning-Cooper's second in the middle of his so-called vacation-was a mixed blessing for him. He'd slept all night with an incredibly hot, sexy woman, and nothing beat that.

But unfortunately, it was still dumping snow. And by dumping, he meant huge, fat snowman-sized flakes that accumulated in a blink of an eye. Not a good day for going outside, but it was a great day for being in bed with that hot, sexy woman. They had a whole basket of condoms left, in some extremely inventive colors and flavors.

But he was alone in the bed.

Damn bad luck for him.

He rolled off the mattress and stepped on an empty, lime-green condom packet.

And then a wily watermelon one.

Yeah, he thought with a grin… last night had been something. To his delight, Breanne had turned out to be a sensual, earthy, passionate lover. He couldn't believe she'd doubted herself. Kissing, licking, touching every single one of those doubts away had been his pleasure.

There'd be no more nights, though. Today they'll shovel out, then ride a snowmobile for help.

And go their separate ways, just as she wished.

Telling himself he was good with that, he hit the shower, then made his way down the stairs, noting there was still no electricity.

Dante appeared out of nowhere, dressed in black, oversized jeans and a football jersey, hat low on his head. "If you're hungry," he said, "Shelly's put together what she can for breakfast."

"Still no generator?"

Dante lifted a shoulder. "Patrick's on it."

"He's been on it a long time."

"To tell you the truth, Patrick's not all that great at his job."

Gee, Cooper thought, there's a news flash. "Then why does the owner keep him?"

"The owner doesn't know. Patrick was hired by Edward."

"And Edward never noticed that Patrick the fix-it guy isn't any good at fixing stuff?"

Dante lifted his shoulder again.

"Come on, Dante. By all accounts, Edward was a tough boss. Why would he keep Patrick on here?"

"Edward's sister made him hire Patrick," Dante admitted.

"Why?"

"Because she's Patrick's mom."

Yesterday, when a very dead Edward had been discovered, Patrick had had little reaction. No reaction, actually.

And yet Edward had been Patrick's uncle? An uncle who'd given him a livelihood? "How does Patrick feel about his uncle's death?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"Did Edward give Patrick as hard a time as he did the women?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like the guy had some management issues."

Dante let out a hard laugh.

"And maybe some social issues."

"If you mean he was an asshole, you're dead-on." Dante’s gaze never wavered. "No pun intended."

"We need to get him out of here," Cooper said. "You knew that. We need to get through to town."

"The generator-"

"Forget the generator. I saw the snowmobiles. If we all put in some effort, we can dig out. Two of us can ride until we get reception, or into town to report Edward's death."

Dante just looked at him.

"It has to be reported sooner or later," Cooper said.

"That's not what I'm hesitating over," Dante said.

"Then what?"

"The shoveling-out part."

"How hard can it be?"

Dante shook his head. "Spoken like someone who's never had to spend hours digging out his car. That snow is some heavy shit, man."

"Don't you have a snowblower?"

"Sure. But Patrick was a bonehead and left it under the eaves of the shed, which has unloaded about two tons of snow onto it since the storm began. That should take all day alone to shovel out-if it's not crushed, that is."

"You're exaggerating."

"You think so?" Dante's smile was grim. "I'll be happy to prove a cop wrong."

Cooper sighed. "I don't know what your beef is with cops, but-"

"Just go eat," Dante said. "Then we'll start."

"We'll get Patrick to help, too."

Dante nodded. "Sure. But just so you know, he's not much better at shoveling than he is at fixing stuff."

"Great." Cooper started to walk away, then turned back. "Hey, did you stay up late last night?"

Dante's expression closed. "Why?"

"I heard something, around midnight. Just wondering if you heard it, too."

Dante slowly shook his head. "Didn't hear a thing." With that, he turned and vanished.

Cooper stood there watching, thinking… but I never told you what I heard.

***

The lack of electricity wasn't nearly as disconcerting in the light of day-even though that light of day was so muted as to be nearly inconsequential. Cooper passed the foyer and stopped short. A huge mountain of snow stood in front of the open door.

Then the mountain began to move, turning into the outline of a man as he shook the snow off like a great big dog.

Powdery white flakes flew through the foyer, landing on every surface, including Cooper. That wasn't what sucked the air from Cooper's lungs, though; the shocking wind whipping through the open door did that.

"Bloody hell." Patrick looked around at the mess he'd just made. "Lariana will be killing me for this." Undeterred by the prospect, he stomped his feet, and more snow fell off him. He wore some sort of head-to-toe snowsuit, which still had snow stuck to every inch, his ever-present tool belt rattling as he stomped. "Sticky shit," he said conversationally in his Scottish brogue.

Cooper shivered. It had to be close to zero degrees. "Any luck with anything out there?"

Patrick shook his shaggy head regretfully as he shut the door, closing out the unbelievably bitter cold. "The generator is a no-go. The thing needs to be replaced. We actually have one on order but this storm came early. Didn't expect to be needing it so soon." With a rather absent smile, he walked past Cooper.

"Patrick?"

Lifting a hand to remove his beanie, which left his red hair standing up on end, the fix-it guy glanced back.

"Did you hear anything odd last night around midnight?"

"Not a thing, mate. But this place is haunted."

"Haunted?"

"By Edward's ghost." He said this utterly without a flicker of emotion one way or the other.

"I'm sorry about Edward, Patrick."

"Don't be."

"He was your uncle."

"He was a sorry excuse for a man." Then he turned on his heel and clinked off.

Cooper walked to the doorway and thunked his head on the wall.

"Is that like snapping your heels together three times and saying 'There's no place like home, there's no place like home?'"

Cooper lifted his head. Shelly stood there, watching him with a curious smile. Wearing whitewashed jeans rolled up to the top of her Ugg boots and a forest-green sweater with a small apron over the top of it, she looked like a melodious, euphoric little thing.

"There are whole days where I feel like bashing my head against a wall, too," she confided, and reached up to give him a little pat on the shoulder. "But not on an empty stomach."

"You look happy."

"I like it when there's guests here."

How about when there's a dead body? "I hope we're going to dig out today. You up for lending a hand?"

"Sure." She pushed up her sweater and flexed her arms. "I work out. You don't think it's easy lifting huge pots full of stew or chili, do you? I'm a snow-shoveling machine."

He felt her biceps and found rock-hard strength. "You are pretty solid."

Solid enough to have moved a dead body?

"Come into the dining room and get some food," she said.

Having burned every spare calorie worshipping Breanne's body all night long, his belly twitched hopefully.

"Oh! Breanne said to give you this." Shelly reached into her apron and pulled out a small piece of paper, folded in some complicated way that took him a minute to open. Meet me in the theater room. B.

"A love note?" Shelly asked.

He stuck the paper in his pocket. "Not quite. Where's the theater room?"

"Down the hall, right past the library, then left." She looked up into his face, suddenly serious. "She's a real sweetheart-you know that, right? Because she's been hurt, being stood up at the altar like that, I don't want to see anything else happen to her, especially out here where she feels alone and so vulnerable."

"Nothing's going to happen to her."

"You slept with her last night." She cringed. "I know, none of my business. Just… just be good to her."

And with that demand, she left him alone.

Cooper sighed-good thing so many people were worried about him-and left to find the theater room. Turns out he couldn't miss it with the two rows of luxurious red velvet seating, the huge screen, and last but definitely not least, the elaborate system on the right that rivaled any theater he'd ever been to.

But the room, however swank and sophisticated, was empty.

"Breanne?" His tennis shoes sank into the plush carpeting as he came to a halt just in front of a large sliding door on his right. The door slid open and a hand shot out, fisting on the front of his shirt, yanking him inside.

He smelled her just as the door slid shut again, that sexy combination of shampoo and woman, and because it was Breanne, he let her accost him. "All you had to do was ask," he murmured, lowering his mouth as he slid his arms around her.