Oxygen Burning by Jerusha Jones

Oxygen Burning by Jerusha Jones

Author:Jerusha Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: small town, cozy mystery, clean mystery, clean romance, pacific northwest, funny mystery, humor mystery, culinary mystery, food mystery, oregon, clean and wholesome, romantic suspense, white collar crime
Publisher: Jerusha Jones
Published: 2017-11-30T00:00:00+00:00


CHAPTER 15

It took supreme effort to gather my wits about me, to resume the usual controlled flurry of activity that constitutes the afternoon before a supper club. But Willow and I quickly turned that still kitchen air into a warmer, headily fragrant atmosphere.

Then welcomed our eager guests at the appointed time, started them off with appetizers, then delighted them with a robust meal of complex and richly nuanced flavors, if I do say so myself.

They also said so. The conversation was continuous and animated among this particular group. Every party has its own personality, but this one was almost exuberant, and the guests rapidly became acquainted and then very nearly one another’s best friends over the course of a few hours. I love it when everyone’s obviously having a good time.

I had to field several questions, however, about my appearance on the nightly news the day prior, and on the rehashings of that same press conference which had been replayed on all the early morning news programs. There were a few minutes during the palate cleansing intermission before the dessert round when it was difficult to keep my smile in place and politely but resolutely insist that I could not possibly add anything more to the sanctioned comments I’d already made publicly. My guests were even more persistent than the band of reporters I’d faced under City Hall’s portico. But I claimed integrity of the investigation as my excuse for not satisfying their personal curiosity, and Willow’s entrance with the honey-drizzled nectarine and pistachio tarts topped with lavender infused whipped cream served as an effective diversion.

I’ve come to love the cleanup portion of each supper club event. I know that sounds slightly unhinged—okay, maybe majorly unhinged—but I need that decompression period when my house, and by extension, my life, gets set back to rights.

Tonight was not one of those nights for calm contemplation aided by routine scrubbing movements. Because the first knock on the front door came about three minutes after the last guest had left.

I opened the door, then squealed and fairly catapulted myself into his arms.

I could tell he was grinning by the way his lips curved against my cheek. He also needed a shave. But he pulled me snug into his chest and squeezed me right back.

“Got any leftovers?” Vaughn murmured into my hair.

“For you? Always. You too, Cal,” I added for the benefit of the man who was wearing a little smirk on his deeply tanned face and who was standing off to the side, waiting patiently for my public display of affection to conclude.

Willow and I had no sooner gotten Vaughn and Cal set up at the peninsula counter with loaded plates in front of them when my phone rang.

“We’ve got something you need to see,” Thatcher said. “You free?”

I eyed Vaughn, who was eyeing me back while methodically chewing. I’d so wanted to get the inside scoop from him and Cal about their trek into—and out of—Forest Park, but how would they feel about expanding their rapt audience?

Vaughn reads me like an open book—maybe.



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