Carmen shook her head and gently placed Gretel on the ground. Those woods were off-limits, both because they belonged to Calvin Prescott and because of the creepy vibe they gave her.
She picked up her basket and entered the chicken coop to collect the eggs. Oddly, the chickens had had another light day of laying. Normally, the girls would give her at least four or five eggs every day, and frequently more. Often, Gretel was good for two or three all by herself. The last week or so, however, Carmen had only found two eggs in the coop every morning. She checked the latch on the coop’s door. It was secure and hadn’t been gnawed by an animal. Besides, if animals had been getting into the coop, they’d have bothered the birds. And Dax, of course, wouldn’t tolerate anyone messing with his chickens. She looked back at the little flock. They all looked robust and relaxed as they explored the fenced backyard. She scanned the edge of the woods for any sign of the huge grey tomcat. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty,” she called out, but there was no sign of the furry grey feline. Apparently he’d gone off to wherever he went when not peeking through her window. Carmen shrugged and went inside to get dressed for the day.
Carmen was Charade’s only lawyer. However, since the population was so tiny, she only practised law for two days per week. A few real estate transactions, some estate planning, and a more-or-less amicable divorce now and then helped shore up her savings account. On her lawless days—a term gleefully coined by her friend Dora—Carmen worked two five-hour shifts at the local vegetable co-op, Bushel and a Peck. Her other lawless activity involved dancing barefoot to exotic music. Carmen had expected to hate the belly-dancing class that Dora had dragged her to, but instead she loved every minute of the gyrating, sensual experience. After a year of attending classes religiously, she’d become a certified instructor.
Slipping into her black yoga pants and cropped spaghetti strap top, Carmen wondered what Ian would have to say if he could see her now. She was about as far from their Chicago law firm as a girl could get. Carmen placed her hip scarf in her shoulder bag and locked up the house. Even though Dora and Colby had made fun of her for locking her doors in a community like Charade, it was one big-city habit that Carmen couldn’t seem to break.
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About the Author
Willa Edwards has dreamed about being a writer since she was four years old. When she picked up her first romance novel at fifteen she knew she’d found her place and she’s never looked back.
She now lives in New York, where she works with numbers at her Evil Day Job and spends her nights writing red-hot tales of erotic romance. When she’s not at her computer, you can usually find her curled up in bed with her two furry babies, her nose pressed to her ereader.
Email: [email protected]
Willa loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
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