Out of Eden

by Beth Ciotta

  “The citizens and business folk would not be happy,” said Keystone.

  “They’d blame you,” said J.J.

  “That’s why we covered up your statement,” said Max.

  “We’ve known you since you were knee high to a grasshopper,” said Keystone. “We care about you, Kylie.”

  J.J. frowned. “Was a time, you cared about us, too.”

  Kylie’s shoulders slumped. How was she supposed to argue with their calm logic? On top of it, like Faye, they made her feel like she’d been insensitive and selfish. “I do care about you,” she said in a soft voice. She’d known these men all her life. All good friends of her grandpa and dad. Good men, period. Until her birthday meltdown, they’d never shared cross words. “I’m still me,” she went on, aware that everyone in the bar was listening. “I’m still…nice. I just want…I want something more. Something different.”

  Mayor Wilson raised a bushy brow. “Heard you have a date with Chief Reynolds.”

  The four men smiled.

  The mayor added, “That’s something more.”

  J.J. winked. “That’s different.”

  There were murmurs throughout the bar, and Kylie knew everyone was gossiping about the lusty kiss Max and the emergency team had witnessed last night at the tower. Eden’s Busybody Squad may have covered up her artwork, but they couldn’t erase the memory of that kiss. That was something.

  “Can we buy you lunch?” J.J. asked.

  “Maybe we can help you sort through this life crisis,” said Mayor Wilson.

  “Lord knows I’ve had my share of upsets,” said Keystone.

  “I’m thinking we should give her some dating tips,” said Max.

  Kylie’s cheeks burned. First of all, they thought she needed dating advice? Second: It would be like discussing sex with her grandpa. Self-conscious, she fussed with her ponytail. “Um. Thanks, but—”

  “Right off, I’d tell you to let your hair down,” J.J. said.

  “In more ways than one,” said Keystone.

  “At least it’s no longer orange,” said the mayor.

  “The black is sort of nice,” Max said, squinting at her new hair color. “Exotic. Men like exotic.”

  “Show some cleavage. Men love that.”

  “Maybe you should buy one of the marvel bras.”

  “Wonderbras. Good idea.”

  “And don’t talk about your past boyfriends. Men hate that.”

  “Don’t play hard to get.”

  “But don’t be too clingy.”

  “Don’t, uh, do the deed on the first date.”

  “But don’t wait too long.”

  “And make sure Jack wears a rubber,” said Max.

  J.J. elbowed him. “The polite term is condom.”

  “Or prophylactic,” said Mayor Wilson.

  “I always called it a love glove,” said Keystone.

  Kylie had wanted to excuse herself the moment the mayor had suggested a marvel bra. Now she wanted to die.

  Luckily for her, since she seemed incapable of making her own escape due to paralyzing mortification, a waitress swooped in to save the day. Pushing Kylie out of the spotlight with a gentle hip nudge, she set four bottles of Bud on the table. “Another round of beers, gentlemen.”

  “But we didn’t—”

  “You’re welcome.” When she turned to leave, she took Kylie with her. “That was rough,” she said in low voice.

  Kylie couldn’t believe her eyes. Jessica Lynn? She was dressed down in jeans and a baggy maroon T-shirt that advertised Boone’s Bar and Grill in big white letters. She’d pulled her hair into a simple ponytail and hadn’t bothered with any makeup other than pink lip balm. Surely Jessica Lynn, former pageant queen, snooty wife of a slick lawyer, wasn’t waiting on people?

  But sure enough, she was holding a serving tray.

  So, she’d finally landed a job. At Boone’s. Wow. Not wanting to embarrass the woman, Kylie focused on Max and gang. “I’m not sure which was worse,” Kylie grumbled. “The part where they cautioned me against ruining Eden or the part where they lectured me on dating?”

  “On the other hand,” said Jessica Lynn, “it was also touching.”

  “Touching?”

  Jessica nodded toward Max and gang. “They spoke and acted out of concern. For you. They respect you. They like you. And rightly so. For as long as I can remember, you always put other people’s needs ahead of your own. I used to think you were a pushover. Then again I was self-centered—so I’m told.” Jessica blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I dissed your family’s shoe store.”

  Kylie racked her brain. “Are you talking about the time you called our selection—”

  “Yes.”

  “That was, I don’t know, ten years ago?”

  The woman shrugged. “I’m making up for…I’m making up. I hope. I’m sorry for anything and everything I ever said or did to offend you. As for my brother…and dating…just be yourself.”

  She whisked off before Kylie could say what or huh or run that by me again. Jessica Lynn Cortez apologizing for rude behavior? For anything?

  In the words of her grandma, the world had gone topsy-turvy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  J.J.’S PHARMACY AND Sundry hadn’t changed much over the years. Jack shouldn’t have been surprised that the antique drugstore soda fountain was still there and in use, but he was. The sight of the stainless-steel-and-marble bar catapulted him back to his childhood. How many times had he hopped up on one of these padded red stools and spun himself dizzy? How many chocolate and cherry Cokes had he consumed? For a quarter, no less. Now the flavored sodas were a buck fifty, and the server was no longer referred to as a soda jerk, but the experience was the same. A glass tumbler filled with crushed ice. Cola out of the soda fountain. Flavor of choice added, then topped off with a striped straw.

  “Am I going to get fat?” Maddie asked as she watched “Nora” pour Hershey’s chocolate syrup into her Coke.

  Jack suppressed his anger. Somehow, some way, he’d break this five-year-old of her weight worries. “No, sweet pea. You’re going to get a treat.”

  “Treats are usually fattening,” she said, her big brown eyes still glued on Nora, or rather the beverage Nora was now stirring.

  “Not if you don’t have them all the time. Once in a while,” he said, “treats are special.”

  “Mommy says I’m special.”

  But her daddy rarely gave her the time of day. The more Jack spoke with Maddie, the more he realized how disconnected she was from the man who fathered her. In light of the divorce and the fact that Frank was a cheating, heartless bastard, maybe that was a good thing. Fuck Frank. Maddie had Jessie, Jack and, as of this morning, Mrs. Carmichael. Smiling, Jack smoothed his niece’s messy hair from her sprite face. “Your mommy’s a smart lady.”

  Hoping to deter the Priss-Butt comments, Jessie had allowed Maddie to dress herself this morning. To his sister’s credit, she hadn’t crumbled when the kid came down to breakfast wearing jeans and sneakers, layered T-shirts in clashing colors and a Dora the Explorer zippered hoodie sweatshirt. Nor had she balked when Maddie had refused her efforts to comb her hair or to tame it with a sparkly headband. Jack knew Jessie’s patience would be short-lived, at least with the hair combing, but at least she was trying to lighten up.

  Maddie wrapped her little hands around the large chilled glass. “She says I’m going to be Miss America.”

  “Do you want to be Miss America?”

  She scraped her tiny teeth over her lower lip. “I’d rather be a dog doctor.” She glanced sideways. “Don’t tell Mommy.”

  Jack just smiled. He also resigned himself, then and there, to ripping that “free to a good home” flyer off the vet’s bulletin board. If Jessie couldn’t or wouldn’t allow Maddie to adopt Shy as her own, Jack would. His niece wasn’t the only one who’d grown fond of that quirky mutt. Even Ziffel had crumbled. Now Jack had to caution his deputy not to feed Shy people food. If only Dorothy would wa
rm up to the dog. What was he saying? She’d yet to warm to him.

  “Found it. Got it,” said Mrs. Carmichael, showing off a DVD of the latest version of Lassie as she waddled toward them. “I just knew I’d seen this at Mac’s Video Circus. We’ll watch it when you come over on Monday, dear.”

  Maddie screwed up her face. “Do you think Shy will like it?”

  “Shy will love it.” Mrs. Carmichael’s smile was as bright as her silver-blue hair. “I’ll have a root beer float,” she said to Nora, then looked to Maddie. “How’s that chocolate Coke?”

  Maddie sipped through the straw. Her eyes sparkled. “Yummy. Wanna taste?”

  “You bet I do!”

  Grinning, Jack stood and assisted the chubby senior as she perched on the empty stool next to Maddie. Just as he’d hoped, Mrs. Carmichael had eagerly agreed to become his niece’s new babysitter. Wanting to give Maddie a chance to get to know her, Jack had invited the lonely widow to lunch and a small shopping venture. He’d known in the first five minutes that they were a perfect match. Then again, he’d always been a good judge of character.

  He would have tagged the day perfect if he could’ve touched base with Kylie. On the drive in, he’d noted that all the apples on the water tower were once again red. Considering she’d risked her life to make a statement, he imagined she’d be ticked when she learned it had been so quickly erased. Even Spenser’s teenage love graffiti had lasted longer. He’d wanted to break the news himself, hoping to ease her disappointment, but she hadn’t answered when he’d called her home phone. He didn’t have her cell number, so he’d contacted Faye, only to learn Kylie didn’t own a cell phone. He wasn’t happy about that. What if her bike broke down on an isolated stretch of road? What if her landline went down and a crisis flared? He could cite a dozen potential emergencies.

  Faye telling him not to worry, that Kylie was probably on her way into work, hadn’t eased his mind because she’d made a crack about Kylie bonding with Travis before she’d signed off. What the hell did she mean by that?

  He’d been obsessing on Kylie’s whereabouts for the past twenty minutes. He hoped she’d learned her lesson the night before and wasn’t out pulling some new crazy stunt. As for Travis Martin…what was his story? Jack had asked around, but no one knew the man very well, even though he’d lived there for seven years. According to those he’d asked, the Martins had kept to themselves. Nice folks, but reserved. Never a source of gossip. That is, until Travis took vacation time to do renovations on McGraw’s. Jack wasn’t the only one wondering about the man’s motives. Hard work, long hours, little pay. Was he angling for a bonus? Counting on her gratitude? Looking to replace his wife? Had he heard the rumor about Kylie being frigid? Like Ashe, was he thinking he could be the one to get her off? Jack’s gut warned Martin was up to something. Or after something. Maybe, possibly, Kylie.

  His brain said stop speculating, go fishing.

  “I’m going out to check on Shy,” Jack said. “You ladies finish your treats. I’ll be back.”

  “Take your time, Chief Reynolds.” Mrs. Carmichael offered a spoonful of ice cream to Maddie. “Want to taste my root beer float?”

  Jack braced for “Is it fattening?” but heard “You bet I do!”

  He reveled in his niece’s Wow and Yummy as he headed toward the front of the store. A bell tinkled, announcing someone’s entrance. He caught a glimpse of Ashe Davis breezing in and making a beeline for an aisle Jack had visited recently himself. Martin would have to wait.

  Sure enough, when Jack rounded the corner, he found Ashe trying to decide between Rough Rider and Trojan condoms. Back in high school, the arrogant SOB used to brag about how he refused to wear a johnnie. Said it cut back on his pleasure. If the girl wasn’t on the Pill, he withdrew and jerked off. Back then they weren’t worried about AIDS. But then he’d fucked up and knocked up Sissy Barnes. Adding insult to injury, he’d refused to marry the girl. That was the first time Jack kicked Ashe Davis’s ass. “At least you’re responsible these days.”

  Ashe didn’t flinch. “So many choices. Ultra-ribbed. Extra-sensitive. Twisted-pleasure.” His lip twitched as he examined another box. “Thank God for the Magnum.”

  “Not interested in a dick-measuring contest, Ashe.”

  “No, you’re interested in Kylie McGraw.” He faced off, ramped up the testosterone when he saw Jack was out of uniform. “Heard you practically molested her on the water tower. And tonight you have a date. Given she’s been in love with you for years, chances are you’ll score.” He grinned at the sound of a passing motorcycle. “Good luck with that.”

  Under different circumstances, Jack would’ve socked that smirk off of his high school nemesis’s face. Instead he held his ground and temper. “Whatever happens between Kylie and me,” he said when the man turned to leave, “where you’re concerned, she’s off limits.”

  “It’s a free world, Chief Reynolds.”

  “In which I’m free to kick your ass.”

  Ashe gave him the finger, then plucked a carton off the rack and tossed it to Jack. Trojan Vibrating Ring. “You’re going to need all the help you can get.”

  KYLIE HUNG HER HELMET over her cycle’s handlebars, then glanced over at Jack’s SUV. The dog-that-wasn’t-his was sitting in the passenger seat, her head sticking out of the rolled-down window. That dog sure was cute. Pointy ears. Freckled muzzle. Loving eyes. Shy watched the passing cars and pedestrians. But mostly, Kylie assumed, she watched for her master.

  Jack was probably in J.J.’s. Or maybe he was in McGraw’s. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing him. She wasn’t sure how she’d react. In reality, she was still Spenser’s little sister and Jack was still her big brother’s best friend. Only, last night the dynamics had shifted and they were on even ground. Just a four-year difference between them. Woman and man. Kylie and Jack. After all these years of lusting after him, finally, he lusted back.

  Before the mortifying dating lecture, she’d been thrilled.

  Now, thanks to the Busybody Squad, she dreaded her upcoming date with her dream man. Dream being the key word. Up until now, her love affair with Jack Reynolds had been a fantasy. Even last night seemed surreal. Now she was grounded and dealing with a major bout of anxiety. Dang Max for bringing up condoms and shattering her fantasy. Safe sex was a real-life issue. Jack boinking her senseless? What if she wasn’t skilled enough to please him? What if she disappointed him in the way she’d disappointed Bobby and the two men before him? Or, here was a twist, what if he wasn’t the awesome lover she’d dreamed of? What if he was a selfish lover or, wow, a dud?

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

  Anxious, Kylie chewed her thumbnail and ambled toward McGraw’s in her knee-high lace-up boots. She was dying to call Faye. Guess what? And, what should I do? But Faye wasn’t herself and their relationship was strained. Maybe she could ask Travis for advice. Maybe a guy’s perspective would be a good thing. She unlocked the door, walked in and froze. “Oh, my God.”

  “You hate it.”

  “I love it!”

  She gaped at the big sign that usually hung outside over the awning. The “base” was essentially the same—white with a scrolled green trim—but the paint was fresh. He’d fiddled with the store’s name—wow. Plus, he’d stenciled funky shoes—much like the ones in the Andy Warhol print now hanging on the west wall—here and there, utilizing colors that complemented the interior. Between the retro lettering, the funky shoes and the mix of old and new colors, he’d created a trendy sign that still blended with the traditional look of the historical block. She loved it all, but what she loved the most was the new name and motto.

  McGraw’s Shoe Shoppe

  “Walk in Comfort, Walk in Style”

  “I didn’t want to hang it,” Travis said, “until I knew you approved. Although I did hang the plaque.”

  She glanced at the cashier counter, at the plaque that had been hanging behind it forever and ages. The plaque that used to read “Pract
ical Shoes for Practical People” now relayed McGraw’s new motto, thanks to Travis. “Walk in Comfort, Walk in Style.” It wasn’t radical. It was perfect.

  Overwhelmed, Kylie launched herself at her kindred soul and hugged him tight. “Thank you. Thank you for all your hard work. For your amazing ideas. For embracing my vision and bringing it to life.” She continued to gush, conscious that he was hugging her back, aware of an emotional surge that she didn’t understand, but didn’t fear. She gushed until he cleared his throat and eased her away.

  Perplexed by the sudden tension in his body, she turned.

  Jack.

  Obviously, he was off duty. Faded jeans. A green-and-brown-paisley oxford shirt—tails hanging out. No cap. No badge. No gun. Yet he was the most imposing man she’d ever encountered. And that included her dad, a man she’d simultaneously resented and loved.

  Her cheeks burned. Not because she’d done anything wrong, but because he was looking at her like she’d done something wrong. No, strike that. His accusatory glare was directed at Travis. Did Jack read something into that innocent hug? Was he jealous? Instead of flattered, she felt flustered. She’d instigated the embrace, not Travis.

  “I was just… Look,” she said to Jack while moving to the sign. “Is this perfect or what?”

  He studied the sign, then shifted and took in the entire store. All the changes. The colors of the walls, the framed prints, the shelves and display racks, the throw rugs, the brightly painted chairs… “Reminds me of a boutique in SoHo,” he said.

  She didn’t know SoHo, but she liked the sound of boutique.

  “Impressive,” he added, then zeroed in on Travis.

  Kylie stood in awe as Jack asked probing questions about her new friend’s background and training without sounding insulting or patronizing or—jeez—direct, while Travis answered without really giving up any worthwhile information. It was sort of like watching two boxers in a ring, dancing, dodging punches.