Free Owned (Rockstar Romance) (Lost in Oblivion Book 5) by Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott

turn, only to have the oven door clang shut. Gritting his teeth over his now mangled cigarette, he pried open the door again and withdrew the pie on top with the nicely browned crust. This oven was huge. He could practically take a nap inside it, for fuck’s sake. He carted the lattice-topped pie—a term he only knew because of Laverne’s explanation the last time they’d visited—to the counter to set it with the other pie. Except the cooling shelf that had held the peach-apple pie was empty.
    Freaking empty .
    He glanced around, frowning. The back door was still open, but not wide enough that someone could’ve come in to steal a pie without him noticing. He had heard a scuffling noise behind him, but who would sneak in to steal a pie and hightail it back out in the middle of a damn snowstorm?
    Not that snowstorms were terribly rare in this part of New York. They seemed to have them six months out of the year, or roughly sixty percent of the time he and Lila came to visit Fred and Laverne. Still, it seemed like an awful lot of effort to go through to snag some baked goods.
    Leaning forward over the sink, he gripped the hot pie in his hands and peered out the window. Snow, snow and more snow. Pine trees draped in white. Fences looped with Christmas lights. Mangy dog eating out of a shiny dish.
    He frowned at the glint of silver in the snow. Didn’t it just figure? He tried to do his duty before he satisfied his growling stomach and he got scooped by a damn mutt.
    His frown grew. Then again, maybe it was just a coincidence. Lola, Lila’s dog and the family pet, was around somewhere. Perhaps this dog was a friend of hers and that silver was its dish. Any good detective worth their salt knew you had to catch the perp in the act.
    Well, he was no frigging Nancy Drew, but he’d give it his best shot.
    Creeping back to the counter, he set down the pie. He turned toward the stove, pretending to be occupied with his cigarette and watching the timer. The same slight scuffle sounded behind him and he spun just in time to see the bedraggled dog oh so carefully prying the pie off the shelf, as painstakingly as he might pick up an injured dove. His eyes slid toward Nick, pie still between his jaws, and he scrambled backward, paws slipping on the snow he’d tracked in. But he still made it out the door before Nick could do more than lurch forward and grab a handful of his sodden golden fur.
    Racing forward, he slipped in the same damp tracks and faceplanted on the floor, only a miracle saving his face from making painful contact with the lit end of his cigarette.
    Goddammit.
    Nick spit out the cig and without thinking, ground it out on the planked wooden floor. The inside door to the kitchen swung open, and Nick tried to get up, only to lose his footing again on the same damp spot. Of course he was still clutching the cigarette.
    Which Lila’s father had just seen him extinguish on their nice kitchen floor.
    Goodbye, marriage. Goodbye new father-in-law. Goodbye ever relieving the hard-on from hell.
    “Need a hand there, son?”
    Nick shut his eyes at Fred’s booming voice. He was just humoring him. He probably wanted him dead.
    And he hadn’t even heard yet that his pies were in the belly of a mongrel dog.
    “I’m good, thanks.” Nick tucked the cigarette into his palm, trying not to react at the still hot tip scorching his skin. He’d probably have a hole. One he deserved, but nonetheless.
    Somehow he made it to his feet and brushed the hand not holding the burning embers over the knees of his jeans. He’d planned to talk to Lila’s parents as soon as possible, but he didn’t think right now was the best time. Besides, he needed to track down the damn mutt who had ruined his life.
    “I’ve gotta go outside to—” What? He couldn’t admit that the dog had stolen the pies. What kind of dumbass couldn’t keep an eye on an inanimate object for five minutes? “Take a piss,” he finished as Fred raised his