about to protest my departure but then was shanghaied by the local quilting circle. Feeling both guilty and relieved, I headed down the hallway to my office.
Kyle stood beside the desk, his face inscrutable. Kaylee was right. Even though Kyle seemed to have matured, he didn't look happy. Not that I was about to help my daughter stepparent trap his hide. I had more than enough shenanigans going on, thank you very much. "I'm not kidding when I say I'm busy, Kyle. The place is jumping."
"Sit," he ordered me.
My first impulse was to put my hands on my hips, lift my chin, and refuse to comply. I wasn't his dog. But that would take too long, and as competent as Kaylee was in the kitchen, there was way too much work for one person. So I sat and waited.
Kyle stared at me for a beat. "Someone," he paused, letting the significance of that word sink in so that I knew he had an idea who that someone was, "hacked into the ME's file on Chad Tobey."
"Oh?" I blinked, trying to look innocent. Damn, if only Jones and I had had an opportunity to get our stories straight.
The sheriff wagged a finger in my face. "Don't try that wide-eyed look on me, Andy Buckland. Was it you?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Kyle, I'm a chef, not a hacker."
His eyes narrowed. "How about your boyfriend? He's a PI, and I know he has the skills."
That was trickier because I didn't know, though I had my suspicions. "He's been a little too busy with personal stuff lately."
Kyle raised a brow. "You mean his son?"
"How did you know?" Mental forehead smack. He knew because this was Beaverton, and nobody could keep secrets, at least not for long. "Never mind. You haven't told anyone, have you?"
Kyle gave me a droll look. "Of course not. It's no one else's business, but I'm a little surprised that you're not more upset about it."
"Upset?" I snorted. "It was a shock, but it's not like Jones was hiding Clayton from me. He didn't even know about him until his trip to New York with—" I broke off before Lizzy's name tumbled out.
Kyle looked at me, his expression blank "You can say her name, Andy."
"Sorry," I said. "I don't want to rub your nose in it or anything." And though I didn't even want to consider it, in my darker moments I wondered if they would be married by now if not for me and all the craziness that followed me back to town.
He shrugged, though I could tell the gesture wasn't exactly casual. "Back to business."
But before we could get back to business, there was a crash. Followed by another.
"What the hell?" Kyle and I looked each other. He flung open the door, and I was right behind him.
People filled the hallway outside. Another crash sounded, followed by some other noises, and a faint cry of panic. For a wild moment I feared Jones had lost his last shred of self-control and had attacked Rodrigo, and the two were brawling in the front room.
Then a distinctive noise registered, the cacophony that haunted my nightmares and woke me in a cold sweat.
The sound of a large crowd of people emptying their stomachs in unison.
The crush of people wasn't surging away from a commotion. They were heading, en masse, to our small bathrooms.
"Oh, God," I whispered, sinking against the wall. "Not again."
Italian Bread
You'll need:
½ cup water, warmed to 110°F
1 package of active dry yeast
Pinch of sugar
4½ cups bread flour
1½ cups of warm water
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 egg white
Sesame seeds, if desired
Directions:
Proof the yeast, water, and a pinch of sugar right in the mixer bowl. Use the dough hook, not the paddle. Dump flour on top of proofed yeast. Pour all the water on top of that at one time. Mix just a second or two, and add salt. Keep mixing till dough leaves sides of bowl. If it pools in the bottom of the bowl after a couple minutes, add more flour a tablespoon at a time until it really gets itself together. You'll know as it mixes if it's too dry or too moist. If it is too firm, you can add a teaspoon
Kyle stood beside the desk, his face inscrutable. Kaylee was right. Even though Kyle seemed to have matured, he didn't look happy. Not that I was about to help my daughter stepparent trap his hide. I had more than enough shenanigans going on, thank you very much. "I'm not kidding when I say I'm busy, Kyle. The place is jumping."
"Sit," he ordered me.
My first impulse was to put my hands on my hips, lift my chin, and refuse to comply. I wasn't his dog. But that would take too long, and as competent as Kaylee was in the kitchen, there was way too much work for one person. So I sat and waited.
Kyle stared at me for a beat. "Someone," he paused, letting the significance of that word sink in so that I knew he had an idea who that someone was, "hacked into the ME's file on Chad Tobey."
"Oh?" I blinked, trying to look innocent. Damn, if only Jones and I had had an opportunity to get our stories straight.
The sheriff wagged a finger in my face. "Don't try that wide-eyed look on me, Andy Buckland. Was it you?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Kyle, I'm a chef, not a hacker."
His eyes narrowed. "How about your boyfriend? He's a PI, and I know he has the skills."
That was trickier because I didn't know, though I had my suspicions. "He's been a little too busy with personal stuff lately."
Kyle raised a brow. "You mean his son?"
"How did you know?" Mental forehead smack. He knew because this was Beaverton, and nobody could keep secrets, at least not for long. "Never mind. You haven't told anyone, have you?"
Kyle gave me a droll look. "Of course not. It's no one else's business, but I'm a little surprised that you're not more upset about it."
"Upset?" I snorted. "It was a shock, but it's not like Jones was hiding Clayton from me. He didn't even know about him until his trip to New York with—" I broke off before Lizzy's name tumbled out.
Kyle looked at me, his expression blank "You can say her name, Andy."
"Sorry," I said. "I don't want to rub your nose in it or anything." And though I didn't even want to consider it, in my darker moments I wondered if they would be married by now if not for me and all the craziness that followed me back to town.
He shrugged, though I could tell the gesture wasn't exactly casual. "Back to business."
But before we could get back to business, there was a crash. Followed by another.
"What the hell?" Kyle and I looked each other. He flung open the door, and I was right behind him.
People filled the hallway outside. Another crash sounded, followed by some other noises, and a faint cry of panic. For a wild moment I feared Jones had lost his last shred of self-control and had attacked Rodrigo, and the two were brawling in the front room.
Then a distinctive noise registered, the cacophony that haunted my nightmares and woke me in a cold sweat.
The sound of a large crowd of people emptying their stomachs in unison.
The crush of people wasn't surging away from a commotion. They were heading, en masse, to our small bathrooms.
"Oh, God," I whispered, sinking against the wall. "Not again."
Italian Bread
You'll need:
½ cup water, warmed to 110°F
1 package of active dry yeast
Pinch of sugar
4½ cups bread flour
1½ cups of warm water
2 teaspoons salt
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 egg white
Sesame seeds, if desired
Directions:
Proof the yeast, water, and a pinch of sugar right in the mixer bowl. Use the dough hook, not the paddle. Dump flour on top of proofed yeast. Pour all the water on top of that at one time. Mix just a second or two, and add salt. Keep mixing till dough leaves sides of bowl. If it pools in the bottom of the bowl after a couple minutes, add more flour a tablespoon at a time until it really gets itself together. You'll know as it mixes if it's too dry or too moist. If it is too firm, you can add a teaspoon
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