Rosemary's Gravy (A We Sisters Three Mystery Book 1) by Melissa F. Miller

Author:Melissa F. Miller [Miller, Melissa F.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Brown Street Books
Published: 2015-05-11T16:00:00+00:00

12

We fell into a pattern. I’d go to the Patrick mansion every morning, just like I used to when Amber was alive. But instead of juicing beets and assembling micro-green salads, I sourced local meats and fish for Pat, Antonio, and Felix. Although being freed from Amber’s dietary restrictions allowed me to unleash my creativity in the kitchen, cooking for Pat was awkward. He posted bond (of course—I mean, I can’t imagine how many zeroes the number would have to have to be out of his reach) but didn’t return to the house. He was staying with Antonio just down the road. According to his statements to the press, the two were relieved and overjoyed that they could finally go public with their relationship, even though the news had cost Antonio his body spray contract. I suspected the real reason they were shacking up had more to do with the frosty relationship between Pat and Felix than with the romance between Pat and Antonio. But as long as my salary kept being direct deposited into my bank account, I was happy to cook for him.

Antonio would zip up in one of his sports cars at eight a.m., noon, and seven p.m. and idle his engine loudly in the driveway while Alayna ran out whatever meal I’d boxed up for him and Pat. Felix usually made himself scarce until Antonio left. Then Felix would appear in the kitchen, steal a few kisses, and try to convince me to eat with him. I tried to explain that I didn’t want to further blur the lines between my job and our budding relationship, but he was relentless. He made the point that it was lonely for him, all alone in the big house. So I conceded to join him—provided that he invited Alayna, too. He rolled his eyes at that but dutifully asked her to join us before each meal.

Every once in a while she’d deign to eat with us—usually when I’d prepared one of her favorites. Most of the time, she declined and muttered some version of ‘poor little rich boy with no friends’ once Felix was out of earshot. Her veiled hostility toward him struck me. He’d said she hated men, but it seemed as if she mainly hated him. It was an attitude I hadn’t noticed before Felix and I became involved.

But then there were lots of things I’d failed to observe B.F. (before Felix). Things like the abundance of hidden nooks scattered throughout his family’s home, all of which were perfectly suited to a quick session of nuzzling, caressing, and, of course, kissing. Felix was the best kisser whose lips I’d ever encountered. He left poor Thor the podiatrist in the dust. Another thing I hadn’t noticed was how strong his arms were. I’d be pureeing the base for a gazpacho or dicing potatoes for a low country boil and suddenly he’d be pressed up against me, his arms encircling me tightly from behind. Anyway, what I’m trying to

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