picket fence, he’d had his fair share of relationships. He had no right to judge.
Or be jealous.
The distinct sound of heels interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up to a loud voice and an overall general impression of dynamic movement. A woman spoke on her cell phone, gesturing with her free hand as a loud wave of half Spanish, half English spilled from her lips.
She didn’t even realize he was there until she’d nearly sat on the edge of Lilah’s desk. Her dark brown eyes went wide in her face as she leaped up, nearly stumbling over heels that added several inches to her already-considerable height. Reed moved up to help her, steadying her motion before her windmilling arms carried her right over to the floor.
“Mama! I said I understand.” The woman gripped his hand, her long fingers curling around his before she squeezed to let him know she was fine, then she promptly marched off toward Lilah’s kitchen.
Fascinated, Reed kept his attention on the heated conversation before it finally ended with a firm “I love you and will discuss this with you later.”
Assuming she’d disappear now that her conversation had concluded, Reed was surprised to hear the sultry tones that floated down the hallway. “You can come out now, Detective Yummy.”
The moniker nearly had him stumbling as he stepped through the door. “What was that all about?”
“Parents. Mothers, more specifically. Do you like yours?”
An image of the warm, fascinating woman who’d shared lunch with him filled his mind’s eye before the answer spilled forth. “Absolutely. I love her.”
“I didn’t ask about love. I asked about like.”
“Well, yeah. I like her, too.”
“Lucky.” The woman sighed, shoving a mass of curls behind her shoulder before extending a hand. “I’m Gabriella Sanchez.”
“Are you the bride?”
Her loud snort and dark expression suggested immediately that he’d overstepped, but Reed wasn’t quite sure why. “Hardly. I’m the caterer. Although the fact I’m not the bride was half the reason for that call.” She gestured with her phone.
“I’m sorry?”
“Never mind. So you’re the dreamy detective. Violet and Cassidy can’t stop talking about you.”
Not Lilah? Forcing the thought aside, Reed decided to let the comment play out. “Oh.”
“They’ve been very impressed with your help and, I believe Violet said it, ‘your God-given patience to deal with the lot of us.’”
“They’ve had a bad scare.”
“One that’s not over.”
The buoyancy that had carried her into the kitchen—even in the midst of a heated family conversation—vanished at her words. Reed saw her conviction as clearly as he saw the exotic beauty that painted her face and shaped her long, lithe body.
And in that moment he suspected people sorely underestimated Gabriella Sanchez.
Before he could say anything, Lilah marched through the door with the now-empty tray of cream puffs. Reed was surprised at the depth of disappointment that gripped him at the evidence the pastries were gone.
“Gab. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry. I had to take that. It was my mother’s fifth call this afternoon and I was starting to worry something was really wrong.”
Reed didn’t miss Lilah’s penetrating gaze as she took in the sight of the two of them alone in the kitchen, but her comment was casual when she spoke. “Amanda was wrapped up in the discussion of her dress with Cassidy, and Quinn had excused himself to take a work call. No one noticed.”
When Gabriella didn’t offer up anything else, Lilah added, “Is everything okay?”
“Same old same old with my mother.”
“Who’s getting married?”
“My cousin Marcie.”
“Sorry.”
Gabby shrugged, those thick curls bouncing lightly against her back. “She’s been dating the guy forever. We all knew it was coming.”
With a quick hug for Lilah, Gabriella turned toward him and gave him an impulsive hug. “They’re lucky to have you, Detective Yummy.”
“Thanks.”
The woman moved out of the kitchen as fast as she’d come in, and it took Reed an extra moment to realize Lilah had already picked up her empty plate and crossed to the large, stainless-steel sink on the far side of the room. “Did it go well?”
“Fine. They’re excited.”
“And hungry, obviously.” Reed moved up next to her. “The desserts are gone.”
“They’re the groom’s favorites. I’m doing about forty dozen for the wedding.”
“You’re doing four hundred and eighty cream puffs for a wedding?” The words were spoken to her back as she moved toward her long counter to pick up her abandoned mixing bowls from earlier.
“There are nearly four hundred people invited to the wedding. You can count on people to take seconds and, besides—” she shrugged “—that’s how many they want.”
The number boggled his mind. “How do you package that many?”
The dark cloud that had seemed to settle over her never wavered, even as a puzzled look stole over her face. “This is what I do. I’ve got large cardboard boxes we’ll put together for the event. I’ll layer them with parchment paper and then transport the pastries in my truck along with the cake for the wedding.”
Reed realized he had no idea what went into a wedding and his always-curious mind was already thinking through the implications of how someone made that much food. “It’s impressive.”
“You want impressive, you should go see Gab’s setup. She’s the one who has to feed four hundred people an entire meal.”
“That’s what she does? Food? I didn’t realize you had a fourth partner.”
“I don’t. I mean, we don’t. But we’ve been working with Gabby for a few years now. A few odd jobs here and there and now it’s become more consistent. She can’t get into the big hotels because they want to cater on their own, but there are a ton of venues in North Texas that want wedding revenue but don’t necessarily want to manage all the catering themselves.”
“Where’s this wedding?”
“The Arboretum in October.”
Reed thought of the endlessly beautiful acres at Dallas’s botanical gardens, particularly gorgeous in fall. He let out a long, low whistle. “That must be costing them a pretty penny.”
When she said nothing, he added, “The height of wedding season at one of the city’s best venues. And with four hundred people? I’d say a small fortune, more like.”
“Weddings are expensive. And. Well.” She shrugged again. “They appear to have the money for it.”
She busied herself with the dishes and Reed found himself amused at her complete freeze-out. “You’re busy.”
“We’re always busy.” She scrubbed the mixing bowl of crusted cream. “And we lost nearly a week dealing with the break-in and—”
“And the attack on Cassidy.” He kept his words gentle, but he pushed all the same.
He didn’t want her scared—far from it—but he knew in his gut whatever had landed in their laps was far from over. Becoming complacent was the worst that could happen.
“Robert’s