Ride or Dye (Curl Up and Dye Mysteries, #6) Read online

  “Oh joy!” Georgia responded with fake enthusiasm. “Garlic breath.”

  “I’m sure the amount of alcohol you plan to consume will burn your nostrils enough to lessen the impact.”

  “George has serious snark game,” Josh said in awe. “This is the best vacation, babe.” He stepped around me to inch closer to the feuding couple who continued to argue but at a much lower volume. Josh couldn’t allow that.

  “Are you going to take a lobster tail or are you just going to stand there with the lid so they get cold and are ruined for everyone else?”

  I turned to face Clyde. I wanted to smash the heavy lid into his face to wipe the indignant look away. Instead, I cocked my brow like a snooty professor unaccustomed to having someone like him address me directly. “I believe it is I, the professor, who should be schooling you on propriety and manners, not the other way around.”

  “Oh, you sound like the headmaster at my boarding school,” Bonnie said, peering at me from beneath her lashes. “So strict and well-spoken.”

  “Move along, strumpet,” Petal said fervently. “He’s a happily married man who doesn’t play around, especially with the likes of you.”

  “Me? That’s rich coming from you.”

  “You look smug for someone who pretends her brother is her gun-toting, bank-robbing lover.”

  Bonnie threw her head back and laughed. “How is that any different than what you do? At least we’re not fucking. Do you call him brother when he’s—”

  Petal’s fist came from nowhere and smashed into Bonnie’s nose before she screamed, “You jealous little shrew! Maybe you should’ve tried making him happier.”

  Bonnie wiped the blood leaking from her nose with the back of her hand. “He was perfectly happy until you came along with your debauched lifestyle. We were going to get married and have a family.”

  “His balls were drying up every second he spent engaged to you. It was only a matter of time before they shriveled up and fell off.”

  Bonnie let out a war cry and launched herself at Petal. They tumbled to the ground and began yanking hair and swinging fists as they battled for dominance and traded barbs.

  “Couldn’t get it up for you…”

  “Surprised it hasn’t fallen off from disease…”

  “Maybe if you knew your ass could hold more than your angry stick…”

  “Faithless whore…”

  Normally, my reaction time was quicker, but I was shocked by the uncouth display. Not Josh. He jumped right into the fray along with Henry and separated the clawing, screaming women.

  “I guess you’re not used to seeing such vulgarities, are you, teach?” Clyde asked, shaking his head. “I don’t know what she’s ever seen in him, or why she can’t let him go.”

  I followed his line of sight, expecting him to be looking at his sobbing sister who was being consoled by Henry, but he was looking at Petal who leaned against Georgia’s ample bosom.

  “The heart wants what the heart wants. There’s no use fighting it,” I said, sounding like a pompous, philosophical professor.

  Josh came to me then, wrapped his arms around my bicep, and tugged me away while everyone sorted themselves out. “I’m impressed you were able to suppress your cop instincts to stay in your professor role, babe.”

  “Honestly, it caught me completely by surprise, and I was slow to react. I think I’ve gotten too soft.”

  Josh snickered. “That’s never been an issue.”

  I straightened his crooked shirt and ran my finger over the dangling threads that used to secure a button to the top. “You lost a button in the scuffle. You’re a natural at breaking up fights.”

  “It’s an unfortunate skill, and one I haven’t had to use often.” Sadness washed over his face, and I knew he was thinking about the last time he saw his friend Georgia in his salon. She’d gotten in a big fight with her ex-husband’s new wife and had words with Josh afterward. Georgia Beaumont might’ve been a difficult person, but he loved her and always regretted that she died before they could make up. “Let’s just hope this catfight doesn’t end with another Georgia’s death.”

  I glanced up and caught Bonnie glaring at Georgia across the expanse of the room. There was definitely bad blood between them too.

  “Excuse me, everyone,” Juliette said. “In light of what just happened, I’m afraid I have to ask you all to return upstairs. You can place your dinner orders, and we’ll deliver to your rooms. We don’t accept this kind of behavior at Tarlington House, so we will be conducting meetings with the parties involved in tonight’s altercation.”

  There was grumbling and more heated barbs exchanged between the sparring women, but they were kept separate for the most part as we all made our way up the grand staircases. I thought it was a good idea Bonnie took the steps on the right while Petal took the staircase on the left.

  “So, what the hell happened?” Josh asked once we were alone. I gave him the rundown, and he whistled when I finished. “Bonnie and Clyde are brother and sister pretending to be lovers. They are pretending, right?” I just shrugged because I had no way of knowing. “And Henry and Petal are lovers pretending to be siblings.” I nodded. “And there’s some love triangle between Petal, Bonnie, and Henry?”

  “I think Clyde is in love with Petal.”

  “This is the best vacation ever. I think Chaz could write at least two or three books out of this fuckery. Damn, baby. You sure know how to pick them.”

  “I sure do,” I said, looking at my beautiful, smiling man.

  AS USUAL, GABE EASILY drifted off to sleep after a late dinner and heart-pounding sex. I had hoped the full belly and orgasm would help me fall asleep too, but I wasn’t as fortunate. I lay there, willing my brain to shut the fuck up, but it wasn’t cooperating. There was no fucking way I was leaving our suite to explore the inn with so much going on, so I got out of bed and grabbed the paperback copy of What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty I purchased the prior week after several of my clients couldn’t stop talking about it when they sat in my chair.

  It seemed Maegan’s small book club at Books and Brew had expanded because nearly every customer in our salon was talking about the same book. The premise of the book sounded interesting, and I felt like it was a book anyone could relate to. A lady goes to the gym to work out, falls off her spinning bike, and knocks herself out. When she comes to, she thinks the year is 1998 instead of 2008. In her mind, she was on the verge of having her first child with the husband she adored, but in reality, she had three children and was about to get divorced. Alice lost ten years of her life. She couldn’t remember giving birth to her children, and she couldn’t come to grips with the fact her marriage was over. It was just unfathomable to her that there would be a day when she didn’t love Nick. He was her everything.

  I flipped on the reading lamp beside the overstuffed, wingback chair and snuggled in with the throw blanket that was artfully arranged across the chair. I expected to enjoy the book, but I didn’t anticipate just how captivated I would become. My eyes devoured each word on every page I turned, my heart squeezing tighter in my chest as Alice’s memories returned to her in little fragments. My eyes became tired after a few hours, but I fought off sleepiness to keep reading. Just one more chapter. Then tears washed the gritty feeling from my eyes as I put myself in Alice’s shoes and tried to imagine how it would feel to forget the past ten years of my life. A kaleidoscope of beautiful images rushed through my mind. Meeting Gabe, hating Gabe, falling head over heels in love with Gabe, committing my life to Gabe, and bringing home our babies with Gabe. He was the fucking center of my universe, and everything revolved around him.

  I looked over several times to make sure my husband was still sleeping soundly in the bed, and I hadn’t imagined his existence. It was silly, but some books punch you in the gut. They make you think and yearn and feel. I wanted to keep reading to find out what happened between Alice and Nick, but my need to feel Gabe’s warmth and hear his heart beating within his chest
was stronger. I gently laid the book on the end table like it was a priceless treasure, turned off the light, and returned to bed.

  “Where’d you go?” Gabe asked sleepily when I burrowed beneath his arm to rest my head on his chest. I closed my eyes and just listened to his steady heartbeat for a few seconds.

  “Australia,” I replied.

  “Without me? How rude. I hope you remembered to wear sunscreen.”

  “It’s winter in Australia right now,” I told him.

  “Huh. I didn’t know that,” Gabe said before drifting back to sleep.

  “I love you so fucking much, Gabe.” His arm tightened around me in response. My brain tried to fire back up with thoughts about what I’d read and predictions on how the story ended, but I was able to block them and fall asleep.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Gabe whispered in my ear. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I asked, reaching for him. Gabe leaped off the bed suddenly to avoid my touch. It woke me up quicker than if he’d dumped a bucket of ice water on me. I scowled when I realized he stood a few feet from the bed. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” he assured me. “I just know what happens if you get your skilled hands on my body.”

  “That’s a bad thing?”

  “It is when you’re pressed for time,” Gabe replied. “I don’t want you to be late.”

  “Late for what?” Then I realized what was significant about the day. I could tell by the brightness in the room it was much later than my usual hour to wake up. “What time is it?” I asked.

  “It’s eleven o’clock.”

  “In the morning?” I shrieked. “Gabe! Don’t I need to meet Pierre at noon?”

  “Twelve thirty.”

  “I need to take a shower and wake the fuck up.”

  “Brunch first,” Gabe told me, gesturing to the silver domes in the sitting area. “How does an omelet, hash browns, fruit, and toast sound to you? There’s even a French vanilla cappuccino for you.”

  “You’re so thoughtful, and I adore you.” As soon as I spoke, memories of the angst I’d felt while reading flooded my brain. “I can’t imagine a day without you.” Then I promptly burst into tears, scaring the hell out of my husband.

  “Sunshine, what’s wrong?”

  I told him about the book in jagged fragments between sniffles, sobs, and hiccups. “I don’t want to wake up and forget our wedding or the beauty of holding our babies against our chest during our skin-to-skin bonding. I told myself, ‘Josh, don’t be silly. It’s just a book.’ People have accidents and lose their memories though, Gabe. Or what if I end up with Alzheimer’s someday?”

  “Oh, Sunshine,” Gabe said, pressing my head against his shoulder. “Life is full of what if, so we better spend our energy on the right now.” I nodded because I knew he was right. “Let’s start with breakfast then you can shower, and we can call home before you have to meet with Pierre.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  I felt a thousand times better after eating, showering, and reading a quick story to them. Seeing our babies blow kisses at us made everything better. I set my anxiety over Alice’s predicament aside so I could put my full attention on not making an ass of myself in Pierre’s kitchen.

  “Don’t be nervous, Sunshine. You’re going to do great,” Gabe said when we stood outside Juliette’s door waiting for her to finish a call. “Furthermore, I bet you’ll have a lot of fun.”

  “Not if he’s like Gordon Ramsey.”

  “Who’s that?” Gabe inquired.

  “The blond chef who screams profanities at people,” I told him. “I know you’ve seen the previews for his show.”

  “I somehow doubt Geneva Louderback would employ a kitchen tyrant like him.”

  “You’re right,” Juliette said. “Pierre is a sweet teddy bear of a man. He’s also a genius in the kitchen. He doesn’t need to yell and scream to earn respect. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  I felt better after hearing Juliette’s assurance. “What will you do, Gabe?”

  “I think I’ll go read the final chapter in your book so I can taunt you later.”

  I dramatically gasped and covered my heart. “You wouldn’t!”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t think of it already. I seem to recall a confession that you used to flip to the last page of a book to make sure it had a happy ending.”

  “You didn’t?” Juliette asked, sounding as appalled as I did just a few seconds prior. “It ruins the story.”

  “Not if you’re too anxious to enjoy the story in the first place,” I told her before shifting my attention back to my husband. “As tempted as I was, Chaz broke me of the habit once he started publishing books.”

  “Why were you tempted with this book?” Juliette asked me.

  “This author is new to me, and I’m not sure if I can trust her with my heart yet,” I replied. “I know some of my favorite authors will cut my heart into a thousand pieces during a story, but I also know they will sew it back together by the end. I don’t know if Miss Liane can be trusted.”

  “Josh, you are so damn adorable,” Juliette said, pinching my cheek like one of my great-aunts used to do when I was a kid. I wasn’t trying to be adorable though; I was telling the truth. Miss Liane Moriarty needed to earn my trust, only time and one hundred and twenty two pages would tell. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” I replied.

  After a quick kiss with Gabe, I followed Juliette through the employee entrance and passageways until we reached the kitchen. A tall, beautiful black man with a joyful smile stood in the center of the room.

  “You must be Josh,” he said, stepping forward to shake my hand. His French Creole accent made his words flow smoothly like satin.

  “It is such an honor to spend time with you in your kitchen,” I said.

  “We’re happy to have you here,” Pierre said. “Ready to get started?”

  “I am.”

  “Wash station is over there, grab an apron, and then we’re going to have a meeting and go over assignments for the day. Do you have any food allergies I need to know about?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Great. Let’s get started.” He gestured toward the wash station that was separate from the sink they used to wash and prep food.

  I thoroughly scrubbed my hands before rinsing and drying them. Pierre patiently waited for me to grab an apron and return to the center of the room. All the sous chefs had stopped what they were doing at their stations to join him. Pierre made quick introductions around the room before passing out a very detailed menu for the elaborate dinner he planned. He broke down each course and everyone’s responsibility for the course. I was impressed by his demeanor and humor when a few of the chefs groaned about their assigned tasks.

  “If you are lucky, Josh will assist you on that course,” he’d say.

  “Happy to,” I assured the chefs.

  “Let’s get to it then,” Pierre said, clapping his hands to get everyone pumped up. He headed off to the wash station to prep for his day.

  I followed Donna to her workstation since she was prepping the first course. She was tasked with making a Greek-inspired salad and had expressed dread for pitting olives and working with anchovies. I’d never pitted olives before, but I was eager to learn.

  “Normally you can pit them by placing a large knife flat against the olive and pressing firmly down with your other hand.”

  “Oh, it’s how I peel garlic,” I said enthusiastically.

  “It’s the fastest way, but Chef doesn’t like to serve mangled olives in his salads. He likes to serve them whole.”

  “I understand; it looks more appealing whole,” I told her.

  Donna picked up a metal tool with her right hand and an olive with her left. She placed the olive in a circular opening at the bottom of the tool then squeezed her right hand. The top of the tool pierced the flesh of the olive and pushed the pit out through the bottom. Donn
a released the tool and held up the pitted olive for me to inspect. “Perfectly intact and pitted. That’s what we’re looking for.”

  “I can do this,” I assured her. “How many?”

  Donna gestured to the two containers holding olives. “Both of these containers because I will be putting some of them in the salad dressing also.” No wonder she hated pitting olives. The tedious task would eat into her prep time.

  “I got you covered.”

  It took me a dozen or so before I found my rhythm. I was afraid to press too hard and squish the flesh, but too soft meant the tool got stuck halfway through the olive. Once I learned the right pressure and technique, I sailed through the task. Then Donna showed me how to prepare the anchovies for the salad and how much to set aside for the dressing.

  After I finished helping her, I moved over to Dana’s station. “Was my sister nice to you?” she asked.

  “Very,” I replied. “How can I help?”

  “Have you ever had gazpacho before?” she asked. I shook my head. “It’s a very simple cold soup with hundreds of variations. Today, we’re making Thai-infused gazpacho. I’ve already cut the yellow tomatoes, but can you cut half of these cucumbers and yellow bell peppers into one-inch chunks and dice these shallots?”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  After I finished, Dana dumped the vegetables in a large food processor to begin breaking them down. Then she added the seasonings and liquid and pureed it all together until smooth. She stuck a spoon down into the concoction then handed it to me. “What do you think?”

  “Delicious,” I told her. “I’m going to make it at home.”

  “We’ll refrigerate this so it gets nice and cold then add a swirl of coconut milk on top and a spicy grilled shrimp in the center.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  I kept moving down the line, helping Bruce, Ned, Stacey, and Max, until I reached Pierre who hadn’t even broken a sweat as he calmly worked. “By now, you can tell I’ve chosen an international theme for dinner tonight.”

  I most certainly could. Pierre chose foods from every corner of the world to serve his guests. “You sure are passionate about your job.”