Bossy Cakes: A Yellow Rose Cozy Mystery (Yellow Rose Mystery Series Book 3) (4 page)

“Just asking!” Betty said with a laugh, holding her hands up.

“I know, I guess I just feel bad about going out.”

“Hey, you’re on vacation. You should have some fun.”

“I guess I’m feeling bad about being excited to go out.”

“Are you excited about the club or this boy?”

Brianna sighed. “The boy, I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it – you’re young. If you do something you regret, maybe it just means it’s time to move on from Ethan.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Brianna asked.

“Not at all,” Betty said. “I know how much you care for him. I just want you to live your life, not sit around waiting for some guy to start living his.”

“Yeah, yeah, Miss Bossy Britches,” Brianna said. “Are we going to get some food or what?”

After dinner Betty lay down and turned on the TV. Brianna went into the bathroom and finished getting ready. When she came out she had a half hour to wait, and her mother was already sleeping. She took a moment to pull a blanket over her and turned off the TV. She went down to the lobby to wait.

Brianna had only been waiting for ten minutes, sitting in a chair in the lobby and flipping through a magazine, when Brent arrived through the front entrance.

“Hey, you’re ready early,” he said. He looked amazing, dressed nicely and with a smile on his face.”

“And you’re here early.”

“You look great. Don’t have your boyfriend beat me up, okay?”

Brianna laughed. “I guess I can let one compliment pass, but don’t let it happen again.”

“You ready?”

“Sure,” Brianna said. They went outside where Davis was parked next to the curb. A pretty young woman sat in the passenger seat.

“Hey, I’m Melody,” she said as Brianna climbed in through the back door. Brent went around to the other side and got in.

“Brianna,” she said, introducing herself.

It was a short trip to the club, but the line at the door was long. Brianna wasn’t looking forward to waiting outside. Even at night the air was humid and horribly hot. But Brent led her past the line to the doorman, who stepped to the side and let the four of them in.

“Wow, how did you manage that?” Brianna asked.

“My dad is a lawyer,” Brent explained. “The guy who owns this place had some trouble with an ex partner. My dad sorted it out. Now everything is good, and I don’t wait in lines here.”

Brianna grinned. “Must be nice.”

“Come on, what about the places back in Texas? I’m sure that when you roll up into clubs and stick that leg out a bit, you get right in,” Brent said as they made their way to the crowded bar along the back of the place. The dance floor was packed and the music was blaring.

“I thought I said no more compliments!” Brianna yelled, and Brent held up his hands in a display of giving up, and they both laughed.

Brent ordered drinks for the two of them. Davis and his girlfriend elbowed their way onto the dance floor. Brianna followed Brent to a booth near the back where they sank into a pair of oversized cushioned seats.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Brianna said as she sipped her drink. “I want to dance.”

“You’re the boss,” Brent said with a grin.

The hours passed and the night turned into a loud thumping blur of color and fun. Brianna and Brent danced and drank, and she was pretty sure at one part of the night she kissed him, or he kissed her. She was sure she would regret it in the morning, and stress over what it meant for her and Ethan, but in the moment it didn't seem to matter.

*  *  *

When Brianna woke up the next day her face was sore. She opened her eyes, blinking at the harsh midday light streaming in through the balcony window. She turned her head and saw that her mother’s bed was empty. She reached over and turned the clock so she could see the time. It was just after one in the afternoon. No doubt her mother had gone to the second day of the cooking seminar.

Brianna sat up and groaned. Her head hurt. She was hungover. But the pain in the side of her face, that was even worse. She wondered what had happened. Slowly, she swung her feet over the edge of the bed and set them on the floor. She stood, bracing herself with a hand on the table between the beds.

It was a slow walk across the room and to the bathroom, with grunts and groans along the way. Inside the bathroom the young woman flicked the light on and stared into the mirror. What she saw made her gasp. She had a massive bruise on the side of her face. She touched it gingerly with the tips of her fingers, which brought new pain – sharp and fresh instead of old and throbbing.

“What happened?” she asked aloud.

She went back and sat on the bed. She was wearing a long T-shirt and a pair of Ethan’s gym shorts he wore when he played softball on a league each summer. Her pajamas. Somehow she had managed to change for bed before passing out last night. Had her face hurt then? Did she already have the bruise? She figured she probably had.

She grabbed her phone and quickly found Brent’s number. He had given it to her out on the beach. She could call him, see if he could help shed some light on the bruise. Had she fallen? She had never been clumsy, but last night had been full of drinks.

She saw her phone on the floor, just under the edge of the bed. Reaching for it, she scrolled through to Brent’s number. She called him and held the phone to her ear. His phone rang and rang, but he never answered. A robotic voice prompted her to leave a message, but she didn’t. She set the phone on the table between the beds and lay down again, wondering what had happened the night before.

Betty enjoyed the second day of the seminar even more than she had the first. For starters, time was spent almost exclusively at the cooking stations. She was teamed up with Amy, and felt like she was working with Brianna when her daughter was much younger since Amy was such a novice at cooking. And true to Johnny’s word, they were baking.

He stopped by Betty’s station after she had finished a vanilla wedding cake with red and white fondant, complete with red roses. Betty was worried Amy was going to pass out when the famous chef stopped to talk to them, so Betty stepped forward and gave Britney time to compose herself.

“I have to see how you did,” Johnny said with a smile.

The chef took a small slice, then plucked a piece off with his fingers and popped it into his mouth.

“Wow,” he said nodding. “Wow.”

“I helped,” Amy said, leaning forward.

Johnny laughed. “You know, I was watching you two as I moved around here. I could see that it was a team effort.”

The chef laughed and winked at Betty.

“She did well,” Betty said. “Reminded me of my daughter.”

“You have a daughter, too?” Johnny asked.

“Yes.”

“How old? Mine is seven.”

“A little older,” Betty said with a laugh. “She’s at the hotel sleeping off a fun night out, but I’m not going to date myself any more than that.”

“Well, time has been kind to you,” Johnny Dunbar said.

“I can’t even drink yet,” Amy said, desperate to get in on the conversation. “Next year though.”

Johnny smiled, though he made no comment. Betty found herself feeling bad. Of course she thought the girls’ plans to marry a rich famous man was absolutely daft, but she didn’t want to hinder their chances.

“So you have a bakery?” Johnny asked.

“Yes,” Betty said.

“Where at?” Johnny asked.

“Yellow Rose, Texas. A little ways south of Austin.”

“Well, you know, I’m doing a new show next season. I’m going to be out traveling around the country, hitting up out-of-the-way spots. Maybe I could head out your way.”

“You want my bakery to be on the show?” Betty asked, astonished.

“Sure,” Johnny said. “We can talk about it after we wrap up here, if that’s okay.”

“Yes,” Betty said. “Of course.”

“Really good, ladies,” Johnny said, taking another bite of the cake. He grinned, flashed a thumbs up, and moved off.

“You have a date with Johnny Dunbar!” Amy squealed.

“I do not have a date,” Betty said, shaking her head at the younger girl. “He’s famous. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You have a date. I bet he asks you to go to dinner or something. He was so into you! Didn’t you see how he was looking at you?”

Betty couldn’t believe the younger woman. “You’re nuts,” she said. “Really. I don’t buy it.”

“He’s into you.”

“Well, even if he is, that’s too bad.”

“Too bad?” Amy practically yelled. “He’s Johnny Dunbar! You don’t get to say too bad.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Betty, he’s so rich! And hot!”

“I know, but I’m just not ready. It’s just a thing about his show anyways. You’re assuming too much.”

“We’ll see,” Amy said with a smirk.

Betty rolled her eyes, but what Amy had said had her thinking, and for the rest of the day she found her stomach was in knots.

As everyone was leaving, Johnny found her in the crowd. The three girls said goodbye to their new friend, and Amy flashed Betty a smile and a wink. Betty turned to face Johnny.

“Hey, I’m hungry, believe it or not. I ate a lot of cake today, so don’t tell my personal trainer. Want to go grab a bite to eat?”

Betty cringed on the inside. Amy was going to laugh so hard when she spoke with her the next day.

“Sure,” Betty said, without really understanding why she was agreeing to dinner.

“Great, I know a nice little Italian place around here. It’s a bit away from the beach, too. Not so many tourists.”

“There’s not too many of us around anyways,” Betty said, fanning herself. “Not in this heat.”

“It’s part of why I chose now,” Johnny said with a laugh. “This place can get crazy sometimes.”

“Are you originally from here?”

“My aunt lived here. Had a house right on the beach. We used to come out every summer,” the chef said as he led Betty to a side door. He opened it for her and she stepped outside. Evening was coming on strong and the sun was half hidden behind the horizon, leaving the sky orange with great purple streaks spread across it.

“It's beautiful here,” Johnny said, and Betty nodded.

His car was parked in a sparsely filled lot, shiny and black and expensive. He opened the door for Betty and she climbed in. Johnny moved around and got behind the wheel.

“You always get into cars with strange men?” Johnny asked as he pulled out of the lot.

“You aren’t exactly a stranger. I’ve seen all of your shows.”

Johnny laughed. “All? That's quite a few.”

“You’re pretty famous.”

“But I bet you didn’t know I had a daughter, huh?”

Betty shook her head. “No, I didn’t know that, actually.”

“There’s me on the screen, in the magazines, stuff like that. Then there’s the real me,” Johnny said as he drove. “I like to keep the real me separate. And that includes Anna.”

“Anna is your daughter?”

“Yes. She’s my angel.”

“You aren’t married. I know that much about you,” Betty said.

Johnny nodded. “We never married, Anna’s mom and I. We lived together for a while, but it just didn't work out.”

“Anna lives with her mother?”

“It’s easier on everyone. I travel a lot. But she stays with me for weeks at a time when I’m shooting. She lives in New York, an hour from the city where I shoot.”

Betty smiled. “Kids are great.”

“They are,” Johnny agreed.

The Italian place was small and made of red brick, with a slanting white roof. There were three cars in the parking lot.

“It’s never busy, but they hand make their pasta,” Johnny said. “I don’t know why no one comes, or how it stays open.”

“Well, if you swear by it, that’s enough for me,” Betty said.

“You’re really trusting,” Johnny said.

“Should I not trust you?” Betty asked as they climbed out of the car.

“I’m not saying that. It’s just… refreshing, I guess. When you’re in my industry, everyone is trying to get up on everyone else. Everyone wants your ratings, or your producer, or your time slot. I don’t think you want anything from me other than some tips in the kitchen.”

Betty smiled as they stepped into the building. “Hey, I want to be on your new show, remember?”

Johnny laughed and led Betty past the unoccupied hostess’ station and went straight to a small table in the back. Before he could say anything, an old man came out of the kitchen.

“John!” he beamed, shaking the famous chef’s hand.

“Hello, Sal,” Johnny said.

“I already got them making the usual back there, and one for your friend, too. What a looker she is!” the old man said, turning to Betty and shaking her hand.

“Sal, this is Betty,” Johnny said by way of introduction.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Let me get some wine,” the old man said as he shuffled off.

“Sal is great," Johnny said as he sat across from Betty. “I think he keeps this place open just for me.”

Betty smiled, but in her mind she was trying to decide if the night was a date or a business proposal. If it was a date, she didn’t know what to think. Johnny Dunbar was good looking, famous, rich. There were a lot of pluses. In fact, Betty couldn’t think of any minuses, other than the fact that she simply didn’t feel ready to get involved with anyone romantically.

By the end of the night, Betty could confirm that it had been a date. They had talked, drank wine, and laughed. He had dropped her off at her hotel, and given her a hug after moving around the car to open her door. Betty went inside and up to her room. She expected to see Brianna, but the room was empty.

She figured she was out once again, and Betty was glad.
Brianna should have fun
, she thought. She was stressed about leaving school, and Betty knew she was also worried that Ethan might not turn out to be the man he promised he would be. They were on vacation. Having fun was encouraged.

Betty was exhausted, and had one more early morning. She took off her make up, sitting on the edge of the bed, then got ready to change into pajamas. She took her cell phone out of her pocket and stopped. A small light flashed in the corner. She had a message. She unlocked the phone and saw she had a couple of missed calls and texts. She had silenced the phone at the conference center that morning, and hadn't checked it since – so busy she had been with the seminar and then dinner.

She read a text. It was from Brianna. It simply read, ‘Call me.’

She listened to the first voicemail. It was Brianna crying. Betty couldn’t believe her ears. She pulled her shoes back on before the message had even stopped playing, and she was out the door.

She had to get to the local sheriff’s office.