Whiskey Rebellion (Romantic Mystery/Comedy) Book 1 (Addison Holmes Mysteries)

I’m going to be out tonight.”
    “You like basketball?” he asked, surprised.
    “Of course I like basketball. Who doesn’t like basketball?”
    “What about baseball? Do you like baseball?”
    I gave him a look like he belonged in the special class. “Baseball is king. All other sports dim in comparison.”
    “Oh my God. I’m going to have to marry you.”
    “Not until you take me to dinner first. What kind of woman do you think I am?”
    “One that I want very, very badly,” he said, backing me into the wall. He took my bottom lip between his teeth and bit gently. I moaned in response and tried to think of what it was I was supposed to be doing.
    “Wait a minute,” I said pushing him back. “What are you really doing here?”
    “Let’s just say I want to be here in case you have any uninvited guests.”
    “You could have just asked, you know, instead of trying to muddle me with the whole seduction thing.”
    “The seduction thing was just a side benefit for both of us,” he said reaching for me again.
    “Oh, no you don’t. I’ve got to get out of here. I’m going to be late.”
    I pushed him back with all my might, with only a small hope that he’d be more persistent in taking things further, that way I could blame him for missing the party.
    “Have a good time,” he said, already heading to the living room and flipping the TV on.
    All I could do was grab m y purse and walk out the door. I’d completely forgotten why I was going to tell him he couldn’t be there while I was gone. But I’d sure as hell give him a piece of my mind when I got back and my brain was in working order again.

    Much to my surprise, I’d been able to save up a good chunk of money since I started working for Kate, and I hardly felt guilty at all for planning to splurge on the Tupperware. A few more weeks of falling out of trees and being chased with sharp objects and I’d have all the money I needed for the rest of the down payment. Hopefully, I’d still be alive to enjoy the fruits of my labor.
    I pulled in right behind Rose Marie’s bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle and hopped out of the car. Rose Marie shoehorned her way out of the Beetle, and I was left standing with my mouth hanging open and my eyes on the verge of exploding at the cacophony of colors that came barreling out of the tiny car.
    Rose Marie was wrapped in a swirling sarong of every color in the rainbow and she’d wedged her size eight feet into size six hot pink mules. The fashion gods were probably in a coma. I wished I could join them.
    “Wow, Rose Marie. You sure do look—summery,” I said, lamely. I looked down at my own short khaki skirt from The Gap and my white sleeveless top and felt way under dressed.
    “Thank you. It’s new,” she said, her face beaming.
    We made our way up to the door of the ranch style house. The sun was still bright though it was almost seven o’clock.
    “I’m surprised you actually came tonight,” Rose Marie said out of the blue. “I’ve always thought you seemed kind of prudish. No offense,” she hastened quickly.
    I was confused. What did buying Tupperware have to do with being a prude? And, dammit, I’m not a prude. Would a prude dance topless at The Foxy Lady? I think not. I almost broke down and told her about it when I remembered it was probably not a good idea to let that knowledge circulate around town.
    “I’m not a prude,” I said defensively. “And what does that have to do with buying Tupperware?”
    Rose Marie gasped. “This isn’t a Tupperware party, Addison. I thought you would have gone to the web site on your invitation.”
    A ball of dread gathered in the pit of my stomach, and I asked the only question that mattered. “What kind of party is this?”
    “It’s a passion party,” Rose Marie said, her cheeks pink in delight.
    By then it was too late. I couldn’t run screaming to my car. The front door was opened and I was ushered into a spacious living room already crowded with women. Candles were lit and wine and cheese were set out. It didn’t look like a den of iniquity so I went further into the room. I stopped next to Rose Marie as a woman approached us.
    “Welcome, ladies,” she said, handing both of us a Q-tip. “Please go into the restroom and apply this gel to your clits. As soon as you’re finished, we’ll start the party.”
    The woman walked off without another word and I was left standing there alone, my mouth hanging open and my face red as a