by Beth Ciotta
She wanted to believe they could work out their issues. She wanted to believe they stood a chance. That he was the one and she was the one and that they’d be together just as she’d always dreamed.
Channeling positive thoughts, Kylie swung out of bed and made a beeline down the hall and up the stairs. She showered and dressed, focusing on the good things in life. She counted her blessings. She chanted positive affirmations. She envisioned McGraw’s Shoe Shoppe being the talk of the town, of increased traffic and mega sales. She envisioned more erotic sex with Jack, more snuggle time with Jack, walks in the woods, dancing under the stars and dining on pizza and chop suey with Jack.
She worked herself up from worrywart to happy camper—a delicious state of oblivion.
She was actually humming when she padded down the stairs, dressed to impress for the grand reopening of McGraw’s. Craving a cup of hot tea, she headed toward the kitchen, freezing in her cushy, soft, patent-leather, apple-red loafers at the sound of footsteps. Someone was in the house, in the kitchen!
That someone was coming her way.
Burglar? Mobster?
“Jack?” she choked out.
Her cell phone was in the recreation room.
The landline was upstairs and in the kitchen.
She could bolt for the front door, but then the intruder might shoot her in the back. Too late, anyway. The wood floor creaked louder and Kylie adopted a fighting stance. The element of surprise was on her side. She hadn’t attended a martial arts class in quite a while, but basics were ingrained in her brain. A series of defense moves and body-target areas flashed in her head. Courage and commitment, she thought just as the intruder rounded the corner.
Aiming at her opponent’s temple, she launched a roundhouse kick, pulling short when she noticed the uniform. Regardless, she clipped Officer Andy Anderson in the shoulder, sending him flying back, two cups of brew in hand. Or rather, on his uniform.
“Jesus!” he hissed. “Are you nuts?”
“I’m sorry!” Kyle rushed forward and stifled a nervous laugh. The man was sitting on his butt, his EPD uniform soaked with hot beverages. It wasn’t funny. But she was just so dang relieved he wasn’t some goon. “What are you doing here?” she snapped as she relieved him of the china cups. At least he hadn’t dropped and broken them. Grandma would have freaked.
“Protecting you.” He pushed to his feet, looking equally embarrassed and mad. “Chief Reynolds assigned me to drive you to work, to watch over you. You’ve got him spooked with that mobster talk, Kylie. You should be ashamed. Haven’t you heard about his burnout on big crime in the Big Apple?”
She’d heard. “Know any details on that?”
“No. You?”
“No.”
“Shoot,” they complained in unison.
She rushed into the kitchen, placed the cups in the sink and soaked a sponge with cool water. “How long have you been here?”
“The chief let me in on his way out,” Andy said, coming up behind her. “I thought you were sleeping so I stayed in the living room, read a magazine. When I heard you come out…” started to say good morning but you raced right up the stairs and you were…
Naked as a jaybird.
“I thought I was alone,” she squeaked, turning to dab at his stained shirt and pants.
“Obviously.” He nabbed the sponge and attacked the mess himself. “Anyway, I wanted some coffee, but settled for tea since there was a box of Lipton right there on the counter. I thought you might like a cup, too.”
“That was nice.”
He grunted. “Please don’t tell Chief Reynolds I saw you in the buff.”
“Please don’t tell anyone you saw me in the buff.”
“Deal. Nice body, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
Even though he was concentrating on his stained shirt, she could see he was blushing. That made two of them. The trick would be not to blush every time she ran into Andy from here on out. “Why are you here again?”
“To protect you from phantom mobsters and to drive you to work.”
“Oh, right.” She pushed aside her mortification and focused, once again, on McGraw’s. “Gotta grab my purse. Meet you at the front door.”
“No wonder Ashe is bent,” Andy muttered as she headed for the recreation room.
Kylie froze in her tracks. “What?”
“What?”
“You said something about Ashe Davis.”
Andy, who was two years Kylie’s junior, placed the sponge in the sink and brushed past her. “I was just thinking about your body and… Never mind.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d blot the image of me in my birthday suit from your brain.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“But that other thing…” She followed him into the living room. “What’s Ashe got to do with me?”
“Nothing. That’s why he’s bent.”
Kylie shifted her weight while Andy fanned the wet spot on his pants with a magazine. “Are you saying Ashe is angry because I, um, hooked up with Jack instead of him?”
“Sort of. Let’s just say his pride and pocket are bruised. Ask Faye. Stan knows about the betting pool. I’m sure he told her.”
Kylie’s face grew hotter. Betting pool? “Faye’s not here. You’re here. And if you don’t spill the beans, I’m going to swipe that magazine out of your hand and whack you with it!”
Andy glanced up. “Never knew you were so violent.”
“I’m not. Usually. Then again, I haven’t been myself lately.”
“I’ve heard the stories.”
She took a menacing step forward. “Andy—”
“Oh, all right.” He slapped the magazine down on her mom’s coffee table, then adopted an official stance—shoulders back, hands braced above his leather holster. “Ashe and Chief Reynolds faced off the other day in J.J.’s Pharmacy and Sundry. They were buying—” he cleared his throat “—condoms and arguing about who would…well, ring your bell.”
She blinked.
“Sure you don’t want to ask Faye about—”
“Go on,” Kylie grit out. She would not die of mortification. At least not before she got the whole story.
“All right. But don’t hit me. I’m just the messenger.”
“Noted.”
“Ever since that journalist dude you were sleeping with split town, Ashe has been bragging that he’d be the first man to…uh…”
“Ring my bell.”
“You know Ashe. He’s an…”
“Arrogant dog.”
“When Jack showed on the scene, some of the guys started ribbing Ashe about losing his chance to be your…um…”
“Bell ringer?”
“Ashe reacted by placing his money where his…well…”
“I get the picture.” Kylie wanted to hit something, or more pointedly, someone. She balled her fists at her sides, breathed deep.
Andy took a step back. “Everyone knows Jack and you…that he…well, hell, Kylie. There’s a bounce in your step that wasn’t there a few days ago. Some of the guys are nudging Ashe to pay up. He’s bent. About losing the money and, mostly, losing out to Jack. Way I hear it, their rivalry goes way back.”
Kylie spun off to get her purse. She’d heard all she needed to hear. Now someone else was going to get an earful.
A minute later, she was buckled into Officer Andy Anderson’s squad car. Wisely, he didn’t speak during the two-minute drive into the center of town. Nor did he complain when she asked him to stop at Kerri’s Confections instead of driving her straight to McGraw’s. He did however, reach for his cell phone.
“Don’t you dare call Jack,” Kylie warned as she shoved open the passenger door.
“But—”
“This is between Ashe and me.”
“You’re not going to cause him bodily harm, are you?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t know. But she did know that Ashe Davis stopped at Kerri’s every morning to grab breakfast and
to flirt with the waitresses before heading to his car dealership. She knew that he always sat at the counter. She spied his smarmy self the moment she breached the café’s door. Her ears and blood burned with gossipy whispers from the other diners as she marched in his direction. She wanted to blast him. She wanted to slap him.
He pivoted on his red stool, saw her and actually had the gall to smile.
At that same moment Kerri hustled out of the kitchen to place a fresh frothy meringue pie on a dessert platter.
On instinct, Kylie relieved her of the pie and smashed it in Ashe’s arrogant face.
The café exploded in laughter and applause.
Ashe sputtered and wiped lemon goo and white froth from his eyes.
Kylie calmly turned to the café’s owner and chief baker. “How much for the pie?”
“I heard about the bet.” Kerri’s lip twitched as Ashe groped for a napkin. She winked at Kylie. “On the house.”
“Thanks.” Head held high, Kylie swiveled and faced the teeming café. “All right. How many of you knew about the bet regarding who would ring my bell?”
Three-quarters of the diners raised their hands, including Max, J.J., Mr. Keystone and Mayor Wilson. Great. No doubt they’d have some sage advice on attaining orgasms.
Prebirthday meltdown, she would’ve crawled under the nearest booth and stayed there forever, wishing it were a six-foot hole. For someone who’d always strived to keep her private life private, this was the height of tabloid hell. But that was the old Kylie. The new Kylie intended to live life to the fullest, and if it meant making a spectacle of herself, so be it.
“Right, then. Just so everyone’s clear on this, Jack rang my bell. Not once. Not twice, but several times. For those of you who placed bets accordingly—” she jerked a thumb at the jerk behind her “—see that man for your money.”
Once the chuckles and murmurs subsided, Kylie made one more announcement. “On another note, McGraw’s is typically closed on Mondays, but as you know, I have a sudden gripe with routine.”
Several people snickered.
Kylie bolstered her spine. “In honor of the Apple Festival, I’ll open my doors today, this Monday only, from 12:00 p.m. until 6:00 p.m., giving Eden’s own a sneak peek at the new-and-improved McGraw’s Shoe Shoppe. Walk in Comfort, Walk in Style. Shake up your lives and treat yourself to a pair of quality shoes. Affordable, stylish, fun, functional and comfortable. I guarantee McGraw’s has something for everyone. And if we don’t have it, we’ll get it!” she added on a whim. “Plus, this week only, enjoy twenty-percent off customized sneakers made especially, exclusively for Eden.” She clasped her heart. “Paradise in the Heartland.”
Everyone, with the exception of Ashe, cheered.
“That’s our girl,” said Mr. Keystone.
“Nice speech,” said the mayor.
“For what it’s worth,” J.J. said as she walked by, “we weren’t in on the pool.”
“For what it’s worth,” Kylie said, “Thank you.” Blood pumping, she exited Kerri’s Confections alongside Officer Anderson.
“Man, oh, man,” he said. “You sure gave Ashe what-for. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“Just don’t tell anyone about the birthday suit thing and we’re good.”
His lip twitched. “What birthday suit thing?”
She patted his arm. “Good man.”
“Now can I escort you to work?” he asked.
“One more thing.” Kylie whipped out her new cell phone and dialed Jack.
He answered midring. “You okay?”
“Depends. Where are you?”
“In my office. Where are you?”
“Across the street. Be right there.”
Andy sighed and followed her. “Even though the chief argued with Ashe, I don’t think he knew about the bet. I mean, he didn’t say anything. I heard it from Hooper who heard it from Boone who heard it from—”
“Save it,” Kylie said as they breached the station house.
Jack met her midway across the reception area. Anderson hovered behind.
“Tell me it wasn’t just about being the first to push my buttons,” she blurted in a hushed whisper.
“What?” Jack grasped her forearms. “Let’s take this—”
“Tell me you didn’t know about the bet.”
“What bet?”
“Last night was so… You were so…” Kylie spied Deputy Ziffel and Mrs. Vine out of the corner of her eye. She knew Andy was nearby, too. She veered from sex talk but couldn’t drop the subject. Her head and heart were pounding. “Is that why you brought up marriage and kids? To scare me off? You had your fun, cinched the bet, and then panicked because you actually fell for me?”
“What freaking bet?”
Ziffel groaned.
Kylie lost it. “Did you or did you not argue with Ashe about condoms and…and…doing me?”
Someone cleared their throat. “Don’t mean to interrupt, but I’m looking for Chief Reynolds.”
Red-faced, Kylie turned and spied a good-looking man, dressed in jeans, an open-collared shirt and a brown blazer.
“That would be me,” Jack said.
The stranger moved forward, hand extended in greeting.
“U.S. Marshal Noah Skully.”
CHAPTER FORTY
“IS THIS PLACE FOR REAL?”
“I like it, Chickie.”
“I’m not surprised.” Carmine pulled their rental car to a stop a few feet shy of the Orchard House. A brown-and-pink Victorian monstrosity set on vivid green manicured grounds and surrounded by frickin’ apple trees. According to Buddah it was either this or a cheap roadside motel.
Carmine didn’t do cheap.
He looked across the seat at Dixie.
Not most of the time, anyway.
He’d told her to dress like a professional. He should have been more specific. Her banana-yellow skirt was too short, her red leather jacket too tight, and her blingy opened-toed heels too high. She might not have raised eyebrows in Brooklyn, but in Hayseed, Indiana, she was a walkin’ billboard for bimbo. Maybe he could get her to tone it down before they actually went into town.
That’s if they made it into town.
Carmine’s ticker felt like the fuckin’ clock of doom. He kept waiting for it to stop. He was certain it would stop. And all because he was late. Too late.
He had every reason to believe his brother was dead. In many ways, it was for the best, but he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t move on. He had to make it right. And Kylie McGraw was the key.
“I know we’ve been over it,” he said to Dixie. “But you know how to play this, right, baby?”
She fluffed her blond hair and beamed a thousand-watt smile. “No worries, Chickie.”
From her luscious mouth to the Almighty’s ears.
Carmine eyed the bed-and-breakfast, craving a hot bath and a long nap, knowing he’d get only one. He palmed his cell phone and called his nephew, praying for a connection. Reception had been damned spotty since landing in Indiana. How did anyone correspond out here?
“Yo, Chickie,” Mario said. “Are you close?”
“I’m here. Need to check in, wash up, then we’ll be payin’ a visit to Miss McGraw. Any action on that end?”
“Zip. I’m thinking the Gambellis are long gone.”
“Put Buddah on.”
After a grunt and some jostling, he heard, “Yeah, boss?” to which he responded, “Give me the nut.”
“Like Turk said, no Gambellis, no action. Like you asked, we’ve been laying low, keeping watch. Not that Miss McGraw needs our protection. The woman’s been with one or another cop 24/7.”
“I thought you said no one believed her claim.”
“No one does. But she seems to be tight with the town’s chief of police. He’s either humoring her or being cautious. Either way, I’m with Turk. I think the Gambellis are dust. Thinkin’ we should be the same, boss.”
“Not until I get some closure.”
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“Some what?”
A term he’d picked from Dr. Bennett. “The Gambellis ain’t ones to leave loose ends. Keep watch on the McGraw woman. Keep her safe. I’ll be in touch.”
Carmine disconnected, put the car in gear and nosed into the gravel driveway of the Orchard House.
Dixie bounced in her seat. “I can’t wait to see my shoes in Kylie’s store!”
Carmine couldn’t wait to see Kylie.
KYLIE ALMOST KISSED the UPS guy. Not only because he’d delivered four cases from Bada-Bling! but also because he’d provided her with a distraction. She’d been mortified when U.S. Marshal Skully had walked in on her condom tirade. Worse, Jack hadn’t included her when he’d invited Skully into his office. Even though he knew she was dying to hear the report on Travis. Nope. He’d promised to call her later, then he’d shut her out. He probably thought he was protecting her from whatever ugly news Skully had to share, which meant he still believed the worst of Travis. It griped Kylie’s buns. At the same time, the moment she’d met the U.S. marshal her stomach had flopped. What did he know about Travis? What was he telling Jack?
She wanted Travis to be an interior decorator who’d renovated a mobster’s mansion and unwittingly witnessed or overheard something that helped to put a criminal behind bars.
She wanted him to be a good guy who’d done a great thing.
She hated that she had a bad feeling.
Focusing on the Bada-Bling! sneakers derailed negative thoughts. The actual product exceeded her expectations. Good quality, fun and unique, no two pairs of shoes were exactly alike. Everything apple—apple pie, appletinis, apple trees, apple bushels, Johnny Appleseed and Eden’s apple water tower—airbrushed in the style of a funky graffiti artist and decorated with assorted bling.
Kylie shucked her loafers and slipped on the pair of high-top sneakers featuring the water tower and Paradise in the Heartland spelled out in rhinestones. Inspired, she started arranging a display in the front window. “These are going to sell like hotcakes!”
