Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 Read Free

produce one long ring.  But when three short rings sounded, she
knew that it was Ryan at the door.
     
    Shucking both her oven mitts onto the
counter, she glanced at the table, where she’d just set the lasagna in the
midst of two place settings next to a glass dish of garlic-and-parmesan green
beans.  Oh!  Spoons!
     
    She grabbed two serving spoons from
the silverware drawer and stuck one in the corner of the lasagna pan and the
other in the dish of green beans.  No, wait.  A spatula.  She whirled back
toward the drawer just beneath the silverware drawer, yanked it open, and
snatched out a spatula.  Exchanging it for the lasagna spoon, she tossed the
spoon toward the sink and heard it clatteras she hurried
toward the front door.
     
    Ryan stood on her wide, wraparound
front porch, holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in green florist’s paper. 
Yellow and orange blooms peeked from the top of the spray, surrounded by oak
leaves in hues of green, orange, and dark red.  As he stepped inside, he handed
her the bouquet.
     
    “Thank you,” she said, surprised.  “To
what do I owe this royal treatment?”
     
    “To the fact that I didn’t start
treating you royally soon enough,” Ryan said.
     
    “Well, thank you,” she repeated, her
tongue suddenly feeling thick and awkward.  “Let me just put these in some water.”
    She headed for the kitchen with Ryan
following, then busied herself locating a vase beneath the sink, running water
in it, and plunking the flowers in.  “This looks delicious,” Ryan said from
behind her.
     
    She turned and found him eyeing the
lasagna.  “Everything will be ready in a few minutes,” she said.  “We’re just
waiting on the garlic bread.”
     
    “I can’t wait,” he said.  “Need help
with anything?”
     
    “No thanks,” she said, setting the
vase of flowers on the ledge that divided her kitchen from her living room.  “Getting
the garlic bread out of the oven is a one-person job.  Have a seat.”
     
    Ryan pulled out a chair and sat down. 
“You expect me to sit here without eating this?” he teased, pointing to the
lasagna.
     
    “Yes, I do,” she said.  “Patience, sir,
patience
.”  She flipped
on the oven light and glanced inside at the foil-wrapped loaf of French bread
she’d prepared earlier with liberal amounts of garlic and butter.
     
    “I’ve been patient all day,” Ryan
groaned.  “I wanted to see you.”
     
    “Well, now you see me,” she said,
spreading out her hands, palms up.  “Here you are, and here I am.  Now what?”
     
    The next thing she knew, she was
caught up in Ryan’s embrace, his lips finding hers.  She returned his kiss for
a moment, then stepped back.  “Three minutes,” she said.
     
    Ryan looked bewildered.  “What?”
     
    “Three more minutes on the garlic
bread.  We don’t want it to burn.”
     
    “I don’t care if it burns,” Ryan said,
drawing her back toward him and attempting to cover her lips with his own.  “I
don’t care if the fire department has to come put it out.  I—”
     
    “Well, I do,” she said, smiling,
teasingly pushing him away.  “I love garlic bread.  Not that I need any more
carbs after all the carbs I ate at lunch.”
     
    Ryan flopped back into his seat.  “You
had lunch with Amy?”
     
    “Yep.  Dos Chicos.” 
     
    “I missed lunch today.”
     
    “Working on the murder at Shear
Beauty?” she asked.
     
    “Yeah.”  Ryan paused, then shook his
head.
     
    “What happened?”
     
    “There’s not much I can tell you on
this one,” Ryan said.  “Only what you’re going to read in the paper or what you
probably already heard on the news.”
     
    “I
didn’t watch the news.  What would I hear?  Or read in the paper?”  She glanced
at the oven timer and saw it counting down the seconds in the last minute. 
Heather put on one of her oven mitts, opened the oven door, and pulled the tray
of garlic bread out.  She set it on the stovetop,