Crazy In Love (Secrets of Suburbia #3) - Ivy Smoak Page 0,60

brownies instead of straining it all out. That would fix it. A true chef knew how to make it work. And this was a make-it-work moment. I put a spoon into the butter and took a tiny little taste. The other part of being a good chef was taste testing. I'm pretty sure I made a face as the weed butter slid down my gullet. It was...not good. But then again, I wasn't a pot buff. I figured it would be fine mixed in with everything else.

I grabbed the rest of the ingredients and got to work at the kitchen island. Now that my back wasn't turned away from the rest of the room, I breathed a little easier. But only the teensiest bit easier. I would have breathed a lot easier if my taser was still working. And if Snuggle Muffins wasn't staring at the basement door now.

"What are you doing? Get away from there. Shoo."

He didn't move.

"Please, you're freaking me out." I started to stir the batter, wishing I could stir it with a knife instead of a spoon. "Snuggle Muffins, get away from there." I lifted the bowl into my arms, preheated the oven as I walked by it, and stopped next to Snuggle Muffins. The door to the basement was still open. If I locked it and Noah was down there, he'd be trapped. I stared down the dark steps as I stirred. And stirred. And stirred. No, I couldn't close the door even if he was down there. That would defeat the purpose of the weed brownies.

I had to stick to the plan. I added even more of the cooked weed and stirred some more. Would that be enough? I put another spoonful in and then licked the back of the wooden spoon. Salmonella wasn't a huge concern for me when I was waiting to be knifed to death by Noah. I licked my lips. Not half bad. I gave it one more lick and one more stir. There. Done. It was the perfect batter consistency. The perfect chocolaty goodness to get Noah to come out of hiding.

I poured the mixture into the greased pan, pushed it into the oven and then...waited. I heard another creak above my head and my eyes flew to the ceiling. Son of a bitch. It was tempting to go up there and look for him again. But it was more tempting to stay alive. So I just stood there in the kitchen, knife in hand, staring into the hall with Snuggle Muffins by my feet.

"Noah?" I whispered into the emptiness.

No response.

This was ridiculous. I wasn't a prisoner in my own house. And Snuggle Muffins and I wanted to see Santa, if we hadn't already missed him driving by our house. I wouldn't let Noah ruin Snuggle Muffins’ first Christmas with me. I picked him up and we made our way to the front door. Noah didn't pop out of the living or dining rooms and knife us. I glanced at the staircase before putting my hand on the doorknob. "We're going to see Santa! You're welcome to join us!"

Silence.

Screw you too, Noah. I breathed my first even breath in what felt like hours when I closed the front door behind us. It was snowing harder now and our yard and the street was covered in white. All the white lights up and down the lane looked beautiful under the blanket of snow. But so did my colorful ones. I'd started a war out here and in my own home.

What was I going to do if Noah didn't come out before I was ready for bed? What if he just lurked around our house for the rest of my life? That wasn't an option. Detective Torres was going to find the records I’d omitted. He'd know everything soon enough. I hugged Snuggle Muffins closer to my chest. I wished I'd gotten an attack dog and not my little creeper muffin.

My neighbors started stepping outside too, getting ready for the big man to come.

I quickly hid my knife in the flowerpot by the door so that I'd be able to wave to them and Santa without looking like a lunatic. "He's coming," I said and pointed to the fire truck turning down our street.

Snuggle Muffins barked.

Hopefully once the truck left the neighborhood Snuggle Muffins would stop staring off in the distance. Dogs liked trucks. I was pretty sure that was a thing. Maybe that was what was distracting him, not Noah's