by Cindy Stark
“It’s okay. I can walk.”
“Nope.” He tightened his grip on her as he headed for the stones near the edge of the bridge that could be used as stairs. “Best to check out how much damage you’ve done before you put weight on it.”
“But you’ll never get up the slope unless you put me down.”
The feel of her body against his made it hard to keep his thoughts straight, so he focused on the rush of water passing them. “Trust me. I’ve got this.” He put his foot on the first stone stair and tested his balance before he continued upwards.
“There are steps?”
“Things you learn when you grow up in a town,” he offered as an explanation.
At the top, he carried her to the passenger side of the car and helped her inside. He stowed her bike in the back of his car and claimed the driver’s seat. His cruiser started with ease.
Neither of them spoke as he drove to her house and parked in front. He exited, helped her from his car, and insisted on carrying her to the front door. He set her down long enough for her to fish the keys from her pocket and open the door.
When he bent to lift her again, she blocked him with both palms facing him. “Thank you so much, but I can make it from here.”
He shrugged, pretending she hadn’t twisted his insides. “Then I’ll get back to work.” He left her and strode toward his car. Maybe she really had fallen, and he’d misinterpreted the evidence. Maybe she’d wanted nothing more than a free ride.
“Wait.”
That one word was like a hook sinking deep into his gills. He turned to her with a questioning look.
Her expression was alive with uncertainty. “I…Could we talk for a moment? About what happened at the café?”
And there it was. “Doesn’t seem like there’s much to say.”
They stared at each other for several long moments, until the connection between them was almost palpable. “He was no one.”
A flash of pain nailed him. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
She stepped toward him, no sign of her earlier limp, stopping when she was only feet from him. “No, I don’t, but I’m going to anyway. I went to Cora’s alone. You saw how packed the place was. Luca asked if he could sit because there was nowhere else.”
She knew his name. “Luca?”
She took his hand, igniting electric sparks between them. “We shared breakfast together. That’s it. Yes, we introduced ourselves, so I do know his name. Yes, he was a nice person. But that’s it. We sat there fifteen, twenty minutes tops. You can’t be mad over that.”
She’d shared breakfast…in a public place…with him. “I’m not mad.”
“Clearly, you are.”
He pulled from her grasp and eyed her. If he didn’t spit it out, jealousy would eat him alive. “Okay, fine. Do you want to know why I’m pissed?”
“Yes,” she said expectantly.
“Because you’ll be seen in public with that guy and not me.”
She stared at him for a long, hard moment searching his eyes. “That’s different.”
He wasn’t buying it. “Why?”
“Because he’s a stranger. He means nothing to me.”
The friction between them shifted, and he could see they both realized what she’d said.
He struggled to keep his emotions from soaring. “I mean something to you?” he asked in a softer tone.
She gave him a small smile and shrugged. “I did let you hold my hand.”
He arched an argumentative brow. She wasn’t getting off that easy. “You let him kiss yours.”
“I didn’t let him. He just did. He’s Italian.”
Peter continued to stare, letting her know he was not pacified by her answer.
“Would you like to kiss my hand, too?” Frustration echoed in her words.
“Maybe.” Yes.
“Fine, and then I’m going inside because this has gotten way too ridiculous.” She held out her hand.
He wrapped his fingers around hers and stroked her skin with his thumb. So soft.
Slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers, he brought her hand to his lips. A familiar, delicious sizzle ricocheted through him, and she inhaled a sharp breath.
“It’s not enough,” he whispered against her skin. Not nearly enough.
She drew her brows together. “What?”
He released her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “I said, it’s not enough.” He caught the flash of understanding in her eyes a second before he lowered his lips to hers.
Sweet mercy.
He kissed her until his lungs threatened to explode. She blinked when he pulled away as though the intensity of their kiss had surprised her, too. He stared at her. His heart thundered. He’d been totally unprepared for how her touch would mess with his head.
Somewhere in there, he found gratification that she hadn’t pushed him away or slapped his face.
“I should go,” she whispered and stepped back.
“Yes.” If she didn’t, he couldn’t guarantee what would happen next.
She watched him for a long moment, her eyes bright. “Okay.” With a deep breath, she turned and strode to her door.
“Take care of that ankle.” He sent her a knowing smile.
She glanced at her perfectly fine foot and then met his gaze with a guilty one of her own. She nodded without admitting anything before she disappeared inside.
He swallowed, fighting the urge to follow her, to see her smile, to smell her incredibly soft hair once again. The primal voices inside urged him to claim her, but he fought them. He’d take his time. He sensed they both needed to proceed with caution.
But, whether the woman wanted to admit it or not, this thing between them was far from over.
Eleven
The day was bright and sunny, if a little chilly as Hazel pedaled her bike with its basket full of deliveries. She couldn’t complain because she was happy to be out in the fresh air, with the nasty storm a week behind them.
She hadn’t seen or heard from Peter since the amazing kiss that had upended her world and never should have happened. She’d been unable to sleep soundly ever since, constantly waking from dreams about him.
She’d been eager for her delivery day to arrive so she could return to the Fingleton house, anxious to see if any new leads or information had popped up on the robbery. She’d considered asking Peter but decided against it, so she’d had no news on the burglary coming from that direction.
Sales at her teashop had been bustling with lots of tourists, outsiders driving in to see the damage from the witch-cursed storm. Apparently, that was something that happened every year. Groups of people would argue nature versus the curse, and the talk was enough to leave Hazel’s head spinning.
Then there were those who were convinced Ostara was an evil day. She would never understand why people equated a celebration of springtime, rebirth and renewal with something bad. Everyone including the earth appreciated a chance to start anew.
Yes, she knew of devil worshippers who sometimes stole pagan spiritual symbols and mocked them. A few dark witches also remained in existence, but that was no different than the over-the-top, outrageous zealots who came with every religion.
Still, people feared the word, witch, especially in Stonebridge.
She passed the library and spotted Timothy Franklin standing in the doorway. Without thinking, she waved. Then she remembered he was one of the haters.
The younger librarian bowed in an old-fashioned manner of greeting, and she smiled, regardless. Although some long-held beliefs were unacceptable, she did appreciate the way the town embraced and preserved historical times.
She believed those touches reminded people to take life slower and remember what was important including family and community. That charm was part of what had convinced her to stay.
A few minutes later, Hazel turned into the Fingleton’s driveway and caught sight of Basil as he walked toward the side of t
he house where she’d seen him the day the pearls had gone missing. This time, though, Sophie was not in sight, and he had his arms laden with bottles of milk.
She pedaled faster and called to him when she neared the house. He turned toward her, a sad frown settling on his otherwise handsome features.
Despite his worn jacket and torn jeans, intelligence sparked in his light blue eyes. After asking around, she’d discovered he’d come from humble beginnings, his grandfather an immigrant from Ireland, but she wouldn’t be surprised to see him excel far beyond his family’s status.
“Hi there. I’m Hazel Hardy,” she said as she rested her bike against the house. “It looks like you and I are doing the same thing.” She lifted a tin of tea from her basket as proof.
“Yeah.” He started walking along the path that led to the kitchen without giving her his name.
“Do you always take this route? I go to the front door, but maybe Dotty prefers deliveries around back.”
“She doesn’t want me in her house. She told my father I can still drop off stuff, but I have to leave them by the back door.”
“Oh.” Dotty’s sentence obviously bothered the kid, but she couldn’t say she blamed Dotty for feeling insecure. “I’m sure it’s just until they catch whoever took the pearls. She’s probably letting very few in. Maybe not me, either.”
He stopped, and she nearly collided into his back. He turned, and she looked up to meet his gaze. If she were ten years younger, she’d be interested. “No. Even before the necklace went missing, Dotty didn’t like me. She doesn’t want me around Sophie.”
She frowned. Dotty hadn’t seemed like the type who’d discriminate against someone less fortunate, though she did remember Dotty saying that she didn’t like the way Basil looked at her daughter. But she suspected that had more to do with teenage romance than anything else.
“That seems silly. Aren’t you and Sophie friends? Don’t you go to school together?”
He nodded and cast his gaze to the ground. “Yes.”
Still, her intuition told her there was much more he wasn’t saying. “But you like her as more than friends?” she prodded.
He clenched his jaw and then turned a hardened gaze to her. “Friends is all we can ever be.”
Her heart wrenched. The poor kid was in love and believed status would keep him and Sophie apart. “I know this town sometimes acts as though we live in a world several hundred years ago, but times have changed. There’s nothing to say—”
“I’m sorry, Miss Hardy. I need to go.” He turned and strode toward the back of the house, unwilling to listen to her hopeful words.
She sighed as she watched him leave. If he truly loved Sophie, she hoped he wouldn’t give up. In a few years, once he graduated high school and experienced the real world, everything could change for him.
She turned and made her way to the front door since Dotty hadn’t arranged for her to make her deliveries any other way.
When Dotty answered the door, dark circles and pale skin warned Hazel that she hadn’t fared well during the past week. “Hello, Hazel. Please, come in.” She stepped back to allow her entrance.
Hazel gave her an understanding, half-hearted smile and entered. “I’ve been thinking about you every day and hope you’re doing okay.”
Dotty wrapped the sash on her robe tighter. “I’ll admit it’s been difficult. I have no idea who I can trust now. My kids are at each other every minute, and I wish I could run away.”
Hazel put a commiserating hand on her arm. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could help.”
Dotty attempted a smile. “Your tea is the only thing that soothes my soul. I just made a pot of oolong for me, Sophie, and my sister. If you have a minute, why don’t you come say hello?”
“Of course.” Hazel followed her back to the kitchen and greeted June and Sophie. Out of the bunch of them, June was the only one who seemed unaffected. Dotty was a wreck, and Sophie’s red-rimmed and watery eyes proved she was still upset as well.
Hazel took a seat along with Dotty while June fetched another cup.
“I just saw Basil outside,” Hazel said and waited for the reaction. “He left your delivery for you by the back door.”
Sophie’s gaze jumped to the kitchen window, but Hazel was sure the young man would be gone by now.
June snorted in disgust. “I don’t know why you allow that thief on your property.”
“He’s not a thief,” Sophie demanded, fresh tears springing to life.
Dotty brushed a strand of unkempt hair away from her face. “We don’t know that he’s the one who took them. Let’s let the police do their job.”
“Of course, he is,” June argued. “I don’t know why the chief insists on looking at anyone else. He’s the only one with access to the house who needs the money.”
Hazel’s assumption of Basil’s issues with this family hadn’t been far off the mark. “Being poor doesn’t automatically make you a thief. Basil seems like a good kid willing to work for money.”
“See?” Sophie agreed, flicking her gaze between the two older women.
“Regardless.” Dotty eyed her daughter. “You need to stay away from that boy.”
“He’s not a boy,” she defended.
“That, he isn’t,” June agreed. “Which is another reason why he needs to keep his distance.”
Dotty dropped her face into her hand. “I shouldn’t have allowed him here in the first place.”
Hazel’s heart broke for the three women. “How about we let this argument rest for the moment and have some tea? It seems you all could use a break before you break.”
“If Sophie’s upset, that’s her fault,” June said. “Her attitude is also making things worse on her mother.”
Sophie shot a shocked and hurt look at her aunt. “This isn’t my fault. I’m just as worried about that necklace as she is. It’s my inheritance after all.”
“One that you’d sell in a heartbeat, missy,” June countered. “You’re acting like you care about the pearls, but you’re just mad your mom won’t let your boyfriend inside the house.”
Sophie’s jaw dropped, and she stayed like that for several long seconds. “You, Auntie June, are a horrible person. If anyone stole the pearls, it was you. Everyone knows that you hate my mom because she got them, and you hate me, too, because I’ll get them after her, and you never will.”
Her words bordered on hysterical by the time she finished.
Sophie stood so fast that her chair fell backward. She rushed from the room sobbing, knocking into Chief Parrish as he attempted to enter the kitchen.
“Whoa,” he said, but Sophie didn’t slow down or apologize.
Twelve
Peter turned to the remaining three women, and Hazel’s stomach proceeded to tie itself into a perfect Celtic knot. “Sorry for the intrusion. Scott let me in, and said I could find you in the kitchen.”
“It’s fine.” Dotty wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry about Sophie’s behavior. She’s really upset over this. Please, sit with us and tell me you have some news.”
June folded her arms and looked away as though annoyed by the interruption.
Peter took the seat next to Hazel. His leg bumped hers, sending an addictive pulse of energy through her. Even the briefest, innocent touches affected her in a most disturbing way.
“Tea?” Dotty offered.
“Is it Hazel’s?” he asked.
Dotty flicked a glance between the two of them and managed a smile. “Of course.”
“Then, yeah. That would be great.” He waited for Dotty to fill a cup, and then he thanked her with a nod. “Hazel’s tea turned me into a tea snob. I never even liked it until recently. Tried a different brand when I was in the city the other day. Awful stuff.”
Hazel’s cheeks heated. “You’re too kind.”
“It’s true,” Dotty agreed.
June released an impatient and very rude sigh. “Do you have news for us or not?”
Chief Parri
sh turned to her with a shrewd smile on his face. “I’ll speak with Dotty in a moment, but first, I have a question for you, June. I overheard the conversation as I walked in, so I’ll ask. Where were you the night before and morning when Dotty first noticed her necklace was missing?”
June put a hand to her throat and gasped. “Me? You think I did it?”
He shrugged. “Everyone is a suspect until proven otherwise. Do you have an alibi during that time?”
“You know I live alone,” she accused.
“So, you don’t then?” he pressed.
June folded her arms again and glared at him. “Fine.” She paused for a long moment. “I do have an alibi.”
Peter shot her an impatient look, his expression one of a man comfortable commanding attention. “I’m not a mind reader, June.”
Hazel sensed the pleasure he took from backing June into a corner, and she couldn’t say she blamed him. The woman could be particularly nasty at times and didn’t seem to be supportive of her sister or niece.
“Harold Kensington.”
Dotty’s brows drew together in surprise, and a hint of a smile ticked at the corner of Peter’s mouth as though he’d known of her relationship with Harold all along.
“He can verify your whereabouts that morning?”
June’s face reddened, and she glared at the chief. “Yes.”
“And the night before?”
“Yes.” June’s answer cut through the tense air.
Peter pulled out the little notepad and pen he carried. He flipped open the pages and held the pen above the paper. “Let me be clear. Harold Kensington can verify your whereabouts from Tuesday night all the way through the storm until Thursday morning.”
Hazel refrained from snickering. She truly appreciated June’s business at her teashop, but she couldn’t say she minded watching her get a little of what she was so good at giving.
“Yes, Chief Parrish.” June no longer contained her anger. “Harold was at my house the entire time. He slept both nights next to me in my bed. Do I need to be clearer?”
Dotty gasped. “June!”
