Free Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries) by Liliana Hart Page B

leave?”
    “There’s some aspirin in the kitchen cabinet above the coffee pot, and there’s a half pint of hazelnut ice cream in the freezer.”
    “It seems to me you ha ve an obsession with ice cream. Maybe you need to get a man to help control these urges.”
    “I had a man. He left me for the home economics teacher. I’ll pass, thanks.”
    I heard him rummaging through the freezer and sat up a little. Nick wasn’t such a bad guy.
    “Looks like Dr. Crumb is guilty,” he said, pausing by the table with all my stakeout paraphernalia on it. “Nice photos.”
    “Thanks. I’m sure it’ll give Mrs. Crumb a surprise, but it’s better to know for sure than to always wonder.”
    I took the aspirin and knocked it back with a spoonful of hazelnut ice cream.
    “Sounds like you know from experience.”
    “Nah. I was pretty much blindsided.”
    “Then he obviously wasn’t the right man for you. I think I’d notice if someone that mattered seemed like they were drifting. Why’d you want to marry a guy like that, anyway?
    I kept my eyes closed and decided I had a better chance of getting him out of my apartment if I just answered the question. “It’s not like he started out as lying, cheating scum,” I said. “He was charming and smart, and I was almost thirty.”
    “Ohhhh,” he said laughing. “Old maid status.”
    “Shut up. In the city being thirty and single is no big deal, but in Whiskey Bayou everyone is expected to marry and reproduce shortly after graduation. You have no idea what it’s like to walk down the street and have people look at you like your ovaries are no better than dried prunes.”
    “You’re right. I don’t.”
    “Greg was exactly what I was looking for in a man. He had a respectable job and he would have been a good father.”
    “And he was cheating scum.”
    “Yeah,” I said depressed. “That, too.”
    “You never mentioned passion. Where was the spark? You can’t spend fifty years of your life admiring his charisma and intelligence.”
    “Spark doesn’t last,” I said, getting irritated because I knew he was at least partially right. “It’s never a good idea to let hormones make the important decisions in life.” I opened my eyes and finally looked him in the eye. His cocky grin was not reassuring.
    “Maybe next time you should look for someone who gives you better orgasms than a pint of Haagen Dazs.”
    “ Get out,” I said, wishing I had the strength to throw something in his direction.
    “Hey, look on the bright side. Right at this moment a whole room full of cops are watching you take your clothes off on tape. I’m sure you’ll find a man in no time after that.”
    “Out,” I said and pointed toward the door. I ignored his laughter as he let himself out of my apartment. I tried to console myself with a bite of ice cream, but I realized he was right. I did have better orgasms with frozen desserts than with a man.
    As far as I was concerned, real orgasms were myths anyway. And any man watching me strip on that tape would probably suffer from erectile dysfunction for the rest of his life.
    I decided to take back the nice thoughts I was having about Nick Dempsey. He was still a jerk, and I’d had more than my fill of jerks lately. Greg and Nick were packaged differently, but I had a sinking feeling that they were very much the same on the inside.

CHAPTER SIX

    Wednesday

    I woke up to music blaring and my head pounding. I slapped feebly at the alarm, because I had no desire in my present condition to listen to Paul Simon singing about some woman who had diamonds on the soles of her shoes, and made my way to the kitchen for more aspirin. I caught my reflection in the toaster. My forehead was an interesting shade of purple, yellow and green.
    I staggered into the shower and let the hot water and steam work its magic on my body. Of course, the hot water in my apartment lasted for exactly four minutes and thirty-two seconds, so I’ve learned to be efficient