Blowing out a breath, I shook my head in disapproval.
“And the robberies weren’t the usual smash-and-grab you’d see with a tweaker,” Hayes added. “They were more organized. With the exception of Wilson, the son of a bitch took his time goin’ through the houses, leaving behind the shit not worth anything and keyin’ in on the expensive items. That doesn’t say stoner to me. That says pro.”
“Sounds like it,” I agreed. “I’ll keep an eye out, see if I notice anything, but truth is, other than the chick who just moved a couple houses down from me, I don’t recall anyone new comin’ to town. And you know word spreads whenever there’s new blood.”
Hayes arched an eyebrow. “Anything about the new girl strike you as off?”
I tried to recall Eden, but honestly, other than the fact that Rocky liked her, nothing stood out. I’d only had two conversations with her, but out of both of those, I couldn’t remember a single thing we’d talked about.
“Not really. Honestly the girl’s not all that memorable. Plain, quiet, kinda shy. That’s about it.”
“You catch her full name?” Trick asked.
I thought back to the introduction our neighbor Nona made days ago. “Eden Brenner.”
Trick scrawled the name on a legal pad before tossing the pen down. “Not much, if anything, but at least we can run it and see what we come up with.”
“Seriously doubt Eden’d be able to pull off one B&E, let alone three in a single night. Woman barely clears five feet, and she doesn’t look like she has much endurance.”
“You never know,” Hayes said with a shrug. “And it’s more than we’ve had to go on so far.”
I pushed to my feet. “All right. You find something when you run her name, you let me know. I’ll do what I can to help. And in the meantime, I’ll keep a lookout.”
Hayes stood as well, reaching out to shake my hand and clap me on the shoulder. “Will do, brother. See you at The Tap Room Friday?”
The Tap Room was one of three bars in Hope Valley, and the only one that wasn’t a shithole. In a town as small as ours, unless it was football season, there was little else to do on a Friday night other than hit up The Tap Room unless you wanted to drive to the next county.
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“All right. This turns out to be anything, first round’s on me.”
With a chuckle, I took a step back, looking Trick’s way and giving him a chin lift before answering Hayes, “You’re on.”
Then I turned on my boots and headed back down the steps, giving Sue Ellen another flick of my wrist without looking her direction as I cleared the doors and walked the five blocks down the street to my offices.
Time to get my own work done.
Chapter Five
Eden
My cell phone buzzed from inside my purse as I pushed my cart along the aisle of the market during my weekly grocery shop. Grabbing a box of pasta, I tossed it into the cart before digging through my cavernous handbag in search of my phone.
Once I had it in hand, I grinned down at Nona’s name on the screen and swiped to answer the call. “Hey there.”
“Hey right back,” she replied. “What are you up to?”
Adding a jar of spaghetti sauce to my cart, I replied, “It’s Thursday night. What do you think I’m doing?”
Her light laughter came through the line before she replied, “So you’re at the market.”
“Bingo,” I said with a grin. “You need anything while I’m here?”
“Nah, all good here, but thanks for asking. I was actually callin’ to see if you have plans for tomorrow night.”
I did. My plans consisted of what they did every night: binge whatever caught my attention on Netflix until I fell asleep on my couch, then wake up, drag my ass to bed, and go back to sleep—all alone. It was pathetic, so instead of filling her in on any of that, I responded, “Nope. Nothing planned. What’s up?”
“Well now you have plans. The kiddos are with their dad this weekend, and The Tap Room has live music the first Friday of every month. Just town folks who like to fiddle around in their free time, but it’s usually pretty good. Mama needs a night out, and I’m dragging you along with me.”
Usually I tried to avoid scenes like that. Growing up with two alcoholic parents and an older brother who started imbibing at an early age turned me off bars and booze. But I was a new Eden, and this was a new life I’d made all on my own. And if my new friend wanted me to go out with her, then I was definitely down for that. “Sounds great. Count me in.”
She let out an excited noise. “Awesome! I’ll swing by your place about seven tomorrow.”
“It’s a date.”
We hung up shortly after, and I found I was actually excited at the idea of going out with Nona the following night. I was taking baby steps each day to move outside my comfort zone, and so far each one had paid off.
Turning my cart to the frozen food section, I headed to the case that had that thick, premade garlic bread I liked so much and grabbed a box. It had been a struggle, but I managed to bypass the snack cake aisle completely. The garlic bread was the last thing on my list, so now all I had to do was hightail it to the register and I’d be in the clear. I figured a week without Little Debbie as my partner in crime was as good a way to start my weight loss journey as any. I was taking baby steps, after all.
When I rounded the corner toward the checkout, I slowed at the sound of a woman’s raised voice coming from the only register still open at that time of evening in a small town. As I got closer, I saw a stunning woman with long dark hair dressed in what I could only describe as mountain chic—skinny jeans, a flannel tied around her waist for fashion purposes, not to ward off the chill, a skintight red sweater, and designer hiking boots that no woman in her right mind would ever hike in—railing at the poor girl behind the register.
“Oh my god! Don’t you know the first thing about bagging groceries? Cans go on the bottom, duh. You just smashed my bread.”
“I didn’t smash the bread,” the blonde working the register replied, her face pulled tight like she was struggling not to go off on the mountain model in front of her. “I slid the can to the bottom, so your bread’s perfectly fine.”
“So you’re calling me an idiot?” the woman continued, slamming her hand on her cocked hip as she tossed her hair and glared daggers in the checker’s direction. “I know what I saw. Maybe you should just stick to strippin’, honey. Obviously this line of work’s way over your head.”
I wasn’t sure what came over me just then, but something inside me snapped, and my embarrassment on the cashier’s behalf just wouldn’t allow me to keep silent.
“Excuse me,” I said, drawing their attention but keeping my eyes trained on the brunette. “Sorry for interrupting, but did you actually look in the bag to see if the bread was smooshed?”
The woman sneered at me. “Who the hell are you?”
I’d already started it, so I figured I might as well take it as far as it could go. Squaring my shoulders, I looked the woman right in her chilly blue eyes and showed not one ounce of uncertainty. I’d known my fair share of judgmental bitches in my life, and this chick was just like all the rest of them. She used her looks and attitude to cow those around her for no other reason than she felt it was her right simply because she was beautiful. “I’m no one. But you’re being really rude—”
“Well, no one, seein’ as you butted into this conversation without anyone askin’ your opinion, it’s not really any of your damn business if I looked or not, now is it?”
I opened my mouth to shoot back something just as snarky when another voice spoke up. “Is there a problem here?”
All eyes turned to the pimply faced guy who looked no older than twenty, tops. I glanced down to the tag on his burgundy store vest to see it read Manager.
“Actually, yeah,” I replied before Mountain Model could speak. “This woman here is harassing your employee.”
“I wasn’t hara
ssing anybody!” the woman yelped in return. “Your employee doesn’t know how to bag groceries without ruining the items your customers just paid for. She put a can on top of my bread, and now it’s ruined.”
The kid’s frightened gaze darted between all three of us before he replied, stumbling over his words in a weak voice. “Uh, well… um… did you, that is have you actually, you know, inspected the bread to see if it’s damaged?”
She hadn’t, and the pinched look on her normally pretty face was answer enough.
“Whatever,” she grumbled, stomping over to the paper bag sitting at the end of the register. “I don’t have time to deal with this shit. I have better things to do. But you can bet your ass I’ll never shop here again, and when I get done tellin’ everyone in town how horrible this place is, no one else will either.”
With that, she snatched up the bag and stormed out of the store, the sway of her hips exaggerated so much that I knew this woman used her looks to get everything she wanted to the point that she’d turned into an entitled asshole.
“Well then,” the barely postpubescent store manager declared with a clap of his hands, “now that that’s been handled, I’ll be in my office.” Then he bailed, leaving me and the checkout girl alone.
“Thanks,” the woman said as I started unloading my items onto the conveyer belt. “You probably shouldn’t have gone head-to-head with Harley Madison, but I appreciate it nonetheless.”
I shrugged and stepped up to the counter as she began ringing everything up and bagging the groceries—in the correct order, I might add. “No problem. I’ve known a thousand Harley Madisons in my lifetime, and I’ve discovered most of them are only as powerful as the people around them allow them to be.”
Her snort was accompanied by the constant beep of each scanned item. “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”
My forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?”
She met my gaze, and for the first time I noticed just how pretty she was. Honestly, with her unique golden eyes and shiny corn silk–colored hair, she was just as attractive, if not more so, than the woman who’d just stomped out of the store. But there was a hardness in her expression that detracted from it ever so slightly. Her eyes, as attractive as they were, held a story of a tough life that I recognized from years and years of seeing the same damn thing every time I looked in the mirror.
“Figured you’d have to be new here not to know the Madisons pretty much own Hope Valley. Harley comes by her bitchiness honestly. Her parents spoiled her rotten starting the day she came into this world and haven’t stopped yet. And they’re just as nasty as she is.”
My top lip curled in disgust at the thought that there was more than just one vile creature strutting around my beautiful town. “Yeah, well whatever. I stand by my actions. I have an incredibly low tolerance for nasty people. And to imply you should be a stripper was just plain rude.”
“Wasn’t an implication,” she muttered. “I am a stripper.”
My eyes widened and I jerked my chin back in surprise. “Oh. I… sorry. I didn’t know.”
With the last of my groceries scanned and bagged, she looked back up at me, humor dancing in her gaze. “Didn’t suspect you would. It’s not a big deal. I’m not ashamed of it or anything. Gotta do what you gotta do to keep a roof over your head, right?”
I grinned and gave her a nod. “Absolutely. I’m Eden, by the way.”
The woman smiled at me and a bit of that hardness melted away, making her even more beautiful. “Gypsy. Nice to meet you.”
Pulling my debit card from my wallet, I handed it over so she could finish ringing me up. “Nice to meet you too.”
As she swiped my card, I took the time to study her. She looked to be in her early to midtwenties, and even in the hideous store uniform of burgundy vest, baby blue polo, and khakis, it was obvious her figure was outstanding. Long legs, tiny waist, with an abundance of hips and boobs, a body like hers would do well on a stage. “And just to say, not that it’s my place, but if I had a body like yours, I’d probably take up stripping for the simple fact that I’d want to flaunt it in front of the world. Especially if it meant I got to rub it in the faces of bitches like Harley Madison.”
Gypsy’s head shot up, her eyes full of shock before she burst into laughter.
“You know what?” she said a few seconds later, the laughter tapering off into giggles. “We need to exchange numbers before you leave. I think I’m pretty damn glad you moved to Hope Valley, Eden.”
I really was too. And if my run-in with the despicable Harley Madison meant I’d gotten another potential friend out of the deal, I couldn’t bring myself to regret it.
Chapter Six
Eden
It had been a few days since Nona worked a miracle on my hair, and I still wasn’t totally used to it. I hadn’t worn it down in so long, and it was strange to feel it brush over my shoulders and down my back. But every time I caught my reflection in the mirror or another shiny surface, I did a double take and smiled a tiny, secretive grin to myself once the surprise wore off.
There was still a lot that needed to be done when it came to Mission Make Over New Eden, but I was getting there. I wasn’t a big fan of exercise in most forms, but I knew I needed to be more active if I had any chance of losing weight, so I’d started taking walks around the neighborhood, sometimes venturing a bit farther out to explore my new town. I found that surrounding myself with the beauty of nature made it much more tolerable. On the days the weather wasn’t very agreeable, I’d ordered some yoga DVDs to do at home, but my preference was the outdoors. Hope Valley was just too stunning not to want to take it all in.
The one thing I wasn’t all that concerned with working on was my makeup. I was a minimalist by nature. After all, working from home didn’t really require any, and after witnessing my mother caking it on in order to hide what a hard life had done to her looks, I’d been turned off by the idea of using more than the bare minimum.
Drinking, drugs, and an all-around bad skincare routine—passing out drunk in her hooker makeup every night and never washing her face—aged her by at least a decade. Because of her, I’d gone to the extremes in the opposite direction. Since hitting the age of twenty, I’d started a skincare regimen that consisted of nightly masks, moisturizers and eye creams, and a weekly deep pore-cleansing facial. I loved how it made my skin soft and glowy, and at thirty-four, I’d been told on more than a few occasions that I barely looked thirty.
Shutting off the blow-dryer, I tossed down the round brush I’d been using to try to get the same smoothness and volume Nona had at the salon. I hadn’t quite nailed the technique yet, but I was getting better, and fortunately I’d managed to do a good enough job for The Tap Room.
Unfortunately, it had taken me three times as long as it had taken Nona, and a quick glance at the clock showed it was already a few minutes to seven.
With my eye shadow done, just enough to add a hint of shimmer and color, the rest wouldn’t take too long. In a hurry, I grabbed my mascara and leaned in, quickly swiping it across my lashes just as a knock sounded on my front door.
“Shit!” I yelped, jumping in place and nearly stabbing myself in the eye. Abandoning my task, I rushed to the front door and pulled it open. “Sorry, sorry. I’m running a bit behind, but I’m almost ready!”
Nona stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Don’t sweat it. The band doesn’t start ’til after eight anyway.”
My shoulders slumped in relief as we started down the hall to my room. “Okay, good. I just need to finish my makeup real quick and find something to wear.”
Nona’s voice followed me as I reentered my bathroom. “You concentrate on the face, I’ll handle the wardrobe. Sound like a plan?”
“Perfect,” I replied, renewing my work on my mascara. Two coats, a bit of blusher, and some pink-tinted gloss later, I was as done.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, I jerked to a halt at the clothes Nona had lai
d out on the bed for me. No way in hell I was wearing what she’d chosen.
“Uh, no offense, but I can’t wear that.” The bootcut jeans hadn’t fit right in so long that I wondered why I hadn’t thrown them out yet. The top was a splurge purchase, and a huge mistake at that. The shimmery cream sweater draped off one shoulder and had a weave so open it required something beneath to keep from showing everything off. However, the thin-strapped gold tank it came with hugged me tighter than I liked, and hung far lower than I was comfortable with, showing off more than just a hint of cleavage. To be honest, the only thing she’d picked that I didn’t mind wearing were the tan suede booties with a four-inch heel and a flashy gold zipper up the back.
“What? Why not?” she chirped. “You’d look amazing in that.”
“It doesn’t fit,” I argued. “I should’ve gotten rid of it all, not packed it when I moved here.”
She arched a single brow and scrunched her mouth to the side. “Oh please.”
“I’m serious! The tank and jeans are way too tight.”
She wasn’t giving up. “I’ll be the judge of that. Go try it on.”
We had a mini–stare off before I finally conceded with a roll of my eyes, grabbing the clothes off the bed before heading back into the bathroom.
I shimmied the jeans over my hips and did the button, surprised they cinched as easily as they did. I was usually a size twelve, a fourteen whenever I was bloated, and a ten on a good day—which were few and far between. These were tens, but they didn’t cut into my belly the way I thought they would. Once I had them in place, I slipped the tank over my head. The clothes didn’t fit as badly as I remembered, but for a woman who basically lived in sweats and T-shirts most days, wearing something that hugged me at all was uncomfortable. It made me feel like each and every one of my flaws was on display.
Pulling the sweater on, I untucked my hair from the collar and flipped it over my shoulders. The gold hues of the top actually looked great against my hair and skin tone, but I wasn’t sure about wearing pants that lacked an elastic waist.
Out of My League: a Hope Valley novel Page 4