“It’s not that,” Devon said, shaking her head. “I’m sure you’re right. I just…”
Jordan said nothing, giving Devon space to find the words.
Devon exhaled heavily. “I just don’t want to be alone, I guess. Not that Max isn’t great company,” she added a little nervously.
“I think the fewer people that see you, that know you’re up here, the better.”
“I get that. But who will know? Whoever is in the store, I suppose. How many people can that be at this hour?”
Devon wasn’t wrong. The reality was, few people lived in the area, especially this time of year. It was a very small community, but that smallness was exactly what Jordan was worried about. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
“What, you mean you don’t bring girls up here every weekend?” Devon teased, an obvious attempt to defuse some of the tension.
“I’ve never brought anyone here,” she said quietly. “Except Henry and Max.”
She watched Devon process the admission. Jordan wasn’t sure why she had said it, but now it was out there, hanging in the air. What was it about this woman that made Jordan reveal herself so readily?
Devon seemed to be weighing her response, but in the end she let the moment gracefully slide. Jordan was relieved. Mostly.
“I understand your thinking, but I still want to come with you,” Devon said, turning the conversation back to its beginning.
Jordan was torn. Her original reasons for wanting to leave Devon at the cabin remained, but in truth she didn’t like the idea of letting Devon out of her sight.
As if sensing the direction of Jordan’s thoughts, Devon said, “The safest place for me is by your side.”
Jordan considered the possibilities, weighed the evidence, and relented. “All right, I guess Max gets the cabin to himself for a while.” Devon smiled brightly, like a child who had just conned her way into staying up an hour past bedtime. Jordan nearly laughed. Max padded over to the fireplace, flopping down in front of it with a satisfied sigh. Jordan did laugh then. The dog was entirely too smart for his own good.
*
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to Mel’s General Store. The store was nestled at the base of the mountain, sitting at the crossing of the road up the mountain and the road that traveled past it. It reminded Devon of the old storefronts in Little House on the Prairie, complete with a hitching post in the front for tying up horses.
On the way there, Jordan had told Devon a little about the region’s history and residents. They were deep within Somerset County, a sparsely populated area in the midst of the Appalachian Mountains. In the summer, this part of western Pennsylvania was full of hikers, campers, and other vacationers looking to enjoy nature. But this time of year, the region was left mostly to the locals. Mel’s made most of its money from the summer tourists, Jordan explained, but it was also the only real store for nearly thirty miles, and so it was the lifeblood of the mountain’s permanent residents. Internet access was nonexistent up on the mountain, which meant no online shopping, and so if you needed something—anything—you went to Mel’s. If Mel’s didn’t have it, they could get it.
A bell chimed as they entered, announcing their arrival. Devon found that the inside of the store matched the outside’s throwback charm. Items for sale were displayed on wooden crates and large tables. The walls were lined with antique signs ranging from gas station logos to soda ads to a hand-painted one that read: Mel’s has everything. If you can’t find it here, you don’t need it.
Devon half expected everything to be caked in a layer of dust, but she quickly realized that fear was unfounded. Although items—everything from camping equipment and automotive supplies to clothing and groceries—were packed into every available nook and cranny, the store was immaculate and well ordered. Mel’s really did seem to have everything.
“Well, Jordan Salinger, as I live and breathe,” a deep feminine voice purred from the back of the store.
Devon searched out the face behind the voice. A striking woman with long fiery hair glided up one of the aisles toward the counter. She was perhaps in her early thirties, with porcelain skin and emerald eyes so bright they practically glowed.
“Hi, Mel.”
“You haven’t been by lately,” Mel said, coming to rest directly in front of Jordan. Devon noticed the way the redhead fit herself to Jordan’s body, not quite touching but every curve aligning so close, Devon thought, that Jordan must have felt the heat radiating from the woman’s skin. Mel reached out and lightly stroked Jordan’s forearm. Devon cringed inwardly. “I missed you.”
“Been busy,” Jordan said with a smile. She stepped back slightly, so subtly that most might have thought it was an unconscious move. But Devon knew that nearly everything Jordan did was purposeful. Apparently, Mel knew that, too, her sexy grin faltering a little. Jordan gave Mel’s arm a quick squeeze. “It’s good to see you, too, Mel.”
That appeared to placate Mel, her grin returning to its earlier strength. “What can I do you for?” Devon had a sudden and unfamiliar urge to slap the woman.
“We need to stock up,” Jordan said, ignoring the blatant come-on.
“We?” For the first time, Mel noticed there was someone else in the store besides Jordan. Devon smiled at her and gave a goofy little wave, cursing herself as she did so. Mel did not smile back, and Devon found herself feeling even more like a child, one who had just been targeted by the playground bully.
“Yeah,” Jordan said, turning toward Devon in a clear invitation. Devon came up beside her. “Melanie Davies, meet Sabrina West. Sabrina, this is Mel.”
Although they had come up with her name and backstory before leaving the cabin, Devon still felt weird hearing Jordan call her Sabrina. Given how many names she had gone by over the years, the irony was not lost on her. Although she had been Devon James less than a year, she found she had grown attached to the identity, especially over the previous twenty-four hours.
Devon offered her hand to Mel. “It’s nice to meet you.”
After a few beats, Mel accepted the handshake. “Likewise,” Mel drawled, “Sabrina.”
“Sabrina’s an old friend of mine from college,” Jordan said, beginning to fill in the story. She and Devon had agreed to keep things as simple as possible. Not too many details, just enough to circumvent any questions.
“Funny,” Mel said, folding her arms across her chest. “You’ve never mentioned her.”
The challenge was clear. Devon wondered if Mel would treat anyone Jordan brought here this way, or if it was something about her in particular. She couldn’t help but hope it was the latter.
“Funny,” Devon shot back sweetly, knowing Jordan was watching their interplay with interest, “Jordan never mentioned you, either.”
“Yes, well”—Jordan coughed—“Mel, Sabrina needed to get away for a while, and I thought the cabin would be a good place for her to do that.”
“Oh?” Mel asked blandly.
Jordan lowered her voice, as if imparting a confidence. “Bad breakup.”
Mel’s focus shifted back to Devon and she played her part, lowering her eyes slightly and nodding. She had never thought herself much of an actress, though she supposed she had been acting most of her life, taking on roles she couldn’t leave on the set at the end of a day’s filming. For nearly a decade, her life had depended on her ability to act.
Mel seemed to relax a little, apparently believing the performance. “Oh, that’s too bad, honey,” she said, her voice sickeningly sympathetic. “Men can be such bastards.”
“So can women.” She lifted her chin defiantly, making the double meaning of her words as clear as possible.
Mel blinked slowly. Then she did something unexpected. She smiled.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Mel said with a laugh. Devon figured their pissing match wasn’t over, but they had reached a détente of sorts. Jordan seemed to breathe a little easier now.
“So, what do you need?” Mel asked.
“A little bit of everything, I’m afraid,” Jordan said.
“My specialty,” Mel said with a wink meant as much for Devon as for Jordan. No, their pissing match was definitely not over.
Over the next few minutes, the three women loaded up several boxes with foodstuffs, plus a large bag of kibble for Max. Devon noticed Mel listing their items in a large, worn spiral notebook before they carried the boxes and dog food out to the car. They returned inside, and Jordan walked over to the camping section. Devon chose to take the opportunity to see if she could find some underwear. Jordan had packed a few items from her own closet for Devon, and they were good on the basics—except for undergarments. She didn’t relish the idea of wearing Jordan’s underwear. It just seemed too…personal.
Mel came up beside Devon. “Didn’t pack much, did you?” Devon hadn’t realized the woman had been watching her.
“Um, no. The trip was a little…unexpected.”
“It’s good for her,” Mel mused. Devon looked at Mel, found her watching Jordan from across the store. She turned back to Devon. “To have company. Friends.”
Devon was taken aback by the unexpected revelation, and the tenderness of Mel’s words. It was clear Mel was interested in Jordan, that perhaps they even shared a romantic past, however fleeting. But now it was also clear to Devon that the redhead had real feelings for Jordan, feelings that—no matter how inconvenient—Devon shared.
“She’s been alone for a long time, hasn’t she?”
Mel nodded knowingly, and appreciatively. “I’ve known Jordan for years, since we were both kids. Her parents used to bring her up here in the summer, back when my dad was running this place. She was very close to her father and mother both, but especially her dad. After he died, I think Jordan walled off a part of herself.”
It was a pain Devon understood all too well, not for Billy, certainly, but for her mother. It was a loss Devon never spoke of, that she had buried down deep.
“Then, after the shooting, she changed. She shut down, locked everyone out. Even those she let in, Henry and her mom, could never really touch her. Then Caroline left, though she was gone long before the shooting, if you ask me.”
Devon nodded as if she knew the details. She desperately wanted to know what had happened to Jordan that day, to understand the terrible events that had scarred her so deeply. She wanted to understand about Caroline, about the disdain that dripped from Mel’s voice when she said that name. But Mel said no more about any of it, and Devon knew she could not ask without giving herself away. So she asked the one question she could.
“And you?”
“And me, what?” Mel asked. Devon did not respond, knowing full well that Mel had understood her question.
“Ah, yes, and me.” Mel sighed wistfully, the longing plain on her face. She opened her mouth to say more but then shut down, seemingly thinking better of giving herself away completely, though Devon thought she already knew.
She picked up a pair of white cotton briefs and tried to hand them to Devon. She was redirecting the conversation. Devon let her.
“You have anything a little less grandmotherly?” Devon asked, eyeing the panties suspiciously.
Mel laughed. “Afraid not. I can order something for you, but it will take a few days, maybe longer.” She held the underwear out to Devon once more. “Guess you’ll just have to make do with these. Not like anyone besides you will be seeing them, right?”
Devon did not take the panties. “That’s okay, I’ll just go without,” she said a bit saucily, leaving Mel’s question hanging unanswered as she walked over to Jordan. She threw an extra sway into her hips for good measure.
Devon held no illusions about her relationship with Jordan, but Mel certainly didn’t need to know that. Despite their awkward introduction and the unanticipated jealousy the woman inspired, Devon found she liked Mel. But that didn’t mean she was about to back down where Jordan was concerned, even if she had absolutely no claim on her heart.
Mel followed Devon to where Jordan was weighing the merits of folding knives. The blades brought the real world crashing back down.
“What’s your preference?” Jordan asked Mel. Mel pointed to the one in Jordan’s left hand and Jordan returned the one in her right hand, picking up a second knife like the one Mel had chosen.
“I need one more thing,” Jordan said. They walked up to the counter. “One of those disposable cell phones you have in the back. And it needs to have Bluetooth.”
Mel eyed her questioningly. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. My cell’s been a little on the fritz,” Jordan covered smoothly. “Want to have a backup just in case. Don’t want to get stranded on the road somewhere with no phone.”
Mel didn’t appear to be convinced, but she nodded and retreated to the back room. She returned with a cheap disposable phone in a clear plastic case.
“Number’s inside the packaging,” she said, adding the phone and knives to her notepad. “Probably not a bad idea with the storm coming in.”
“What storm?” Jordan asked.
“Arctic front, probably will be here forty-eight hours from now. They’re still not sure about the totals, but they’re saying it could be as much as a foot, probably more up the mountain.”
Jordan groaned. “I better get that woodpile stacked, then.”
“Hmm,” Mel hummed, grinning like the Cheshire cat. Devon knew exactly what was running through the woman’s mind, since it was the same delicious image that had popped into her own head. Devon scowled, which only made Mel grin further. “Want me to put this all on your account?”
“Do you mind?” Jordan asked.
“For you, never,” Mel purred. She pulled out another book from beneath the counter, this one a leather-bound ledger that looked like it dated back to the ’50s. Mel flipped pages until she found one with Jordan’s information at the top. Then she added the total to the bottom and dated it.
“When are you going to get a computer like everyone else?” Jordan joked.
“Never,” Mel exclaimed, as if the very thought was an affront. “It was good enough for Dad, and it’s good enough for me.”
“You’re just like Henry,” Jordan said with a laugh, “scared of anything with a microchip.”
Devon watched the easy interplay between the two women and thought they really would make a good couple. That did not sit well with her.
Mel slapped Jordan’s arm playfully. “I am nothing like Henry. I have an iPhone, an iPod, and a laptop at home. They just have no place in this store. There’s something to be said for tradition, you know.”
“That there is,” Jordan said. She turned to Devon. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask. Did you see anything else you needed?”
“Not a thing,” Devon said sweetly, resting her hand on Jordan’s shoulder. “Better to go without.”
Jordan looked at her questioningly, but a squeeze of Devon’s hand silenced her. Devon saw Mel’s smile fade as she was reminded of their earlier conversation, just as Devon had intended. Devon savored the tiny victory.
“It was nice to meet you,” Devon said.
This time Mel offered a handshake and Devon accepted, although Mel squeezed her hand a little harder than necessary. “Likewise. I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
“I’m sure it will be,” Devon said, and she could practically feel the daggers Mel threw at her back as they exited the store.
Chapter Sixteen
Jordan’s first order of business upon reaching the cabin was unloading the car and feeding Max who, although normally something of a snob about his food, wolfed down his bowl of kibble with gusto. Her second order of business was to dismantle her cell phone, ensuring it could not be traced, and to try out the new disposable phone. After freeing the phone from its plastic packaging with her new knife, she went outside to make the call. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Devon to hear the conversation, but cell reception inside the house was spotty at best. She dialed the main statio
n number instead of Henry’s cell.
“Lieutenant Wayne,” Henry answered once the call had been transferred.
“It’s me,” Jordan said simply.
“Jordan?” Henry asked, his voice dropping. “Are you guys okay?”
The relief she felt at hearing her partner’s voice surprised Jordan. “We’re fine. Getting settled.”
“Are you where I think you are?” Henry asked.
“Yes. I took the long way.” Henry laughed. Having gotten lost himself a time or two on the maze of roads leading to the mountain, Jordan knew he understood what she meant.
“So you weren’t followed.”
“No, we weren’t.” There was no way to be one hundred percent certain of that, but Jordan was positive nonetheless. “Do you have me on the caller ID?”
She heard the phone rustling and knew Henry was checking for the number of her new cell phone on the phone’s display on his desk. “Last four are zero five two four?”
“You got it.”
“I asked…get me…phone…should have…today—”
“Henry, hang on, you’re breaking up.” Jordan stepped farther away from the cabin, toward the woodpile and chopping block where she would be spending some quality time once she ended the call. The woodpile was definitely too low, with only a couple of days’ worth of fuel. “Say again?”
“Is this better?” Henry asked.
“Yes, much. Sorry. You know how the cell service is here. Probably will get worse the next few days. Word is there’s a snowstorm heading this way.”
“I heard. I keep telling you landlines are better,” he said in his fatherly tone.
“This coming from the man who doesn’t know how to check his voice mail,” Jordan shot back.
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