Eighth Grave After Dark by Darynda Jones

Author:Darynda Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781466845282
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

9

APPLICANTS MUST PASS AN ORAL EXAM BEFORE ADVANCING TO THE NEXT COURSE.

—NOVELTY UNDERWEAR

I went down to check on Cookie. Uncle Bob was still in the city. Working. On his wedding day. I felt so guilty, though I didn’t know why. I had nothing to do with his working. Just Cookie’s.

“Hey, you,” I said, watching Reyes in the kitchen from the corner of my eye. He was making us both a hot chocolate. God bless him. Chocolate had become my best friend in the absence of coffee, which I’d given up for Beep. Come to think of it, I’d given up a lot for her. I’d have to make sure she knew that. Remind her. Daily. “It’s almost ten o’clock, Cook. You have to go to bed.”

There was a small couch in the office, on which Amber and Quentin sat. Well, Amber sat. Quentin slept, his blond hair hiding his face, one arm hanging over the side, the other thrown over his head. He had a massive shoe on Amber’s lap, but she didn’t seem to mind. She sat reading, completely content.

“I’ve been going through everything,” Cookie said, apparently ignoring my prime directive. That happened a lot.

Reyes brought my hot chocolate in. “Anyone else?” he asked, offering his own mug. A true gentleman.

“I’ll take some, Uncle Reyes,” Amber said, her smile flirtatious.

He chuckled and handed her his mug. “What about you?” he asked Cookie.

She was so engrossed in her work, it took her a moment to blink up at him. When she did, she stopped, blindsided by the picture before her. He stood in a pair of lounge pants, black and red plaid, with a dark gray, form-fitted T-shirt. I felt a flush of heat radiate out of her—a feat, considering Reyes’s heat knew no bounds.

When she didn’t answer, he flashed her his famous lopsided grin and said, “Hot chocolate, it is.”

He winked at me before venturing back to the kitchen, and for a split second, I thought I saw odd lines across the back of his shirt, but I dismissed the thought when Cookie came back to earth.

“Did he say something?” she asked.

“He forgot the best part!” Amber said, scuttling out from under Quentin’s enormous shoe and following after her uncle Reyes. “You forgot marshmallows!”

“He’s getting you a cup of hot cocoa,” I told Cook.

“Oh, right.” She shook the fog out of her brain. “That man makes it impossible to concentrate.”

“He does, at that. So, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She turned in her chair to face me.

“It’s about your pre-honeymoon honeymoon.”

“Charley, really, it’s no big deal.”

“I think it is, but not in the way that you are letting on.”

She shifted in her chair. “What do you mean?”

“It’s like you were relieved that you didn’t get to go.”

“What? There is a missing girl. There was nothing for me to be relieved about.”

“Which is exactly why I’m concerned.”

“Well, don’t be.”

“Hey,” I said, using reverse psychology, “at least when all this is over, you two will get the honeymoon of your dreams.

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