Free Allure (The Hoodoo Apprentice #2) (Entangled Teen) by Lea Nolan

wing.
    “Sounds like she’s pushing that wrought-iron baker’s rack around. I hope she removed the margarita goblets from the top rack first.”
    Metal grates against flagstone pavers once again. A second later, Missy squeals, followed by a cascade of shattering glass.
    Cringing, Cooper and I turn to each other. “Oops.”
    Beau’s voice booms from the library. “Missy! What was that?” His words are slurred.
    “Nothing, sugar.”
    “I don’t want any part of that mess.” Cooper grabs my hand and sprints up the grand staircase toward his room. I’m not sure if he’s talking about the literal mess splattered across the solarium floor, or the inevitable fight that’ll erupt when Beau realizes what she’s done. Either way, I’m with him.
    When we get upstairs, Jack is still not there so I sit at Cooper’s desk and open his laptop.
    Cooper shuts his door. “You going to tell me what’s going on?”
    “As soon as Jack gets here, I promise.”
    He pulls up a chair next to me. “Until then, we could do something other than surf the Web.” He grazes the back of my neck with his finger.
    A chill, definitely the delicious kind, flits over my skin. Giggling, I inch away. “As much as I’d like that, I need to check something first.” I type Claude’s name into the search engine hoping to find something. The only result is from last week’s Beaufort Gazette . Cooper moves closer, nuzzling the flesh behind my ear as I click through and skim a story about the King Center’s new security consultant brought in to investigate the recent break-in. Beau was even quoted taking credit for finding the world-class investigator and making the board hire him.
    Exhaling, I try to block out the sensations created by Cooper’s lips. It’s nearly impossible, except for the niggling question that keeps running through my brain: if Claude is so awesome and famous, why aren’t there any other references to him or some of the big cases he’s solved? I look away from the screen and stare out the window to ponder the possibilities.
    Something on the pane draws my attention. Three slimy smudges smear the glass.
    “Ew, what’s that?”
    Cooper pulls away. “What? I thought you liked it when I kiss your neck.” He looks insulted. And a little hurt.
    I chuckle. “No, I love it. I’m talking about that .” Pointing to the window, I get up to take a closer look.
    The clear streaks are thick and goopy, and sort of look like someone’s slathered a handful of hair gel across the glass. But that’s ridiculous because, for one, who the heck would do that? And two, it’s on the exterior side of the pane. Besides, since Cooper doesn’t use gel, I doubt there’s even a tube of the stuff in the house.
    Cooper steps beside me and squints at the splotches on his window. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just dirty. I’ll ask your dad to zap it with the power washer.”
    My scalp prickles, but unlike a few moments ago when Cooper’s touch made my flesh sizzle, the feeling moves way beyond tickling to almost burning. Though my fingers itch to soothe the fiery sensation, I’ve done this long enough to know it’s got nothing to do with the skin on my head. I’m supposed to take note of this stuff.
    “No, I think it’s something else.” I unhinge the lock and release the side buttons to allow the frame to tilt inside. The humid air gushes in, warming his air-conditioned room and carrying the luscious scent of the pink magnolia beside the house.
    Bending down, I peer at the smudge. A whiff of something sharp and bitter slams my nostrils, making me pull away. Nausea swells and my mouth floods with sour saliva. “Ugh, gross!” Covering my mouth with my palm, I gag.
    I’ve smelled something similar once before. Last summer, while Jack and I were down south and my mom was on her dig at the sandstone cliff buildings in Petra, our freezer broke down. When we got back just before school started, the mildewed and rotting food was a