Deadly Heritage by Marissa Shrock

Author:Marissa Shrock [Shrock, Marissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996987943
Publisher: Cimelia Press
Published: 2019-02-17T22:00:00+00:00

Cal lived in an above-the-garage apartment that he rented from an elderly gentleman. When I’d first met him, he expressed interest in purchasing a small hobby farm in hopes of having a relaxing pastime. Now that we were dating, he’d stopped looking for a farm, and I interpreted that as a positive sign about the future of our relationship.

I took a deep breath as I climbed the wooden steps to Cal’s apartment. Getting acquainted with his father would be a good test run for meeting his mom, which I dreaded ten times more.

In addition to the whole future-mother-in-law issue, I wasn’t sure what kind of woman she was since she’d left Cal’s dad for another man. The most I’d been able to learn about her from Cal was that she was a retired homicide detective who’d inspired his law enforcement career.

Cal’s parents had divorced, and his dad, a former fire inspector, had moved from Cleveland to Florida where, according to Cal, he was playing the field in the retirement community where he’d purchased a house.

After Grandma Winston died, one of Grandpa’s friends had tried to get him to retire and move to one of those neighborhoods. Grandpa refused, saying the whole concept of living with a bunch of other seniors freaked him out and that he’d be content to stay in Wildcat Springs with people of all ages.

“Hey.” Cal said as he opened the door. He wore the camo-print apron I loved.

I stepped inside the apartment where butter, garlic, and warm air filled the compact space. While my kitchen was 1980s retro, Cal’s took us back to the 1960s and 70s with the yellow floral wallpaper and brown appliances.

“Dinner smells great.” I hugged him, and he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

Cal’s dad stepped forward with his hand extended. “Darrell Perkins.”

When he smiled, I noticed Cal had inherited his dimple—but not much else—from his dad. Darrell was shorter than his son and had gray hair that he’d puffed up to try to disguise the thinning. He’d clearly taken advantage of the Florida sun—or a spray tan booth.

I clasped his hand. “Georgia Winston. Nice to meet you.”

“Go ahead and have a seat, and I’ll dish everything up,” Cal said.

Darrell chuckled. “Don’t have to tell me twice. My son gets his cooking ability from his mother. I need directions on how to boil water.”

“I’m not very adept in the kitchen myself.” I sat across from Darrell at the dented table next to the door so I could make a quick exit, if necessary.

“My son tells me you’re a farmer. How’d a pretty gal like you get into that?” He leaned back and crossed his arms.

Yikes.

“Family. My grandpa farms, and my dad did before he died. I was going to be a music teacher, but when Daddy died and Grandpa started talking about selling the farm, I stepped in. Most people don’t think of girls taking over for their dads, but I love it.”

“Money’s better than teaching, right?”

I blinked.

“Don’t answer that, Georgia.

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