Divorced, Desperate and Dead

by Christie Craig

  He watched her take a deep breath.

  The silence felt heavy. She finally spoke. “I was scared. I felt so deceived by Jerry.” She glanced down at her hands.

  “Look at me. Do I look like Jerry? I’m not him any more than you’re my ex. We’ve both been hurt. We’re both scared. We both . . . lied.”

  She met his gaze.

  “So,” he continued, “I was hoping maybe we could sort of call it even and start over again.”

  Voices came from behind the glass door leading to the kitchen. He saw Kelly and Beth inside, along with some other people. It was still early, but it appeared as if the party was about to get going.

  Chloe’s gaze shifted to the door as well. He sensed she felt uncomfortable having this conversation here.

  “You want to go grab a cup of coffee?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave. I promised your sister I’d—”

  “The party doesn’t begin until two,” he said. “We got over an hour.”

  “Your sister said one. One of the girls—”

  “That was a lie, too. So we’d have a chance to talk. But it seems everyone is showing up early. What do you say? Let me buy you a cup of coffee?”

  She nodded. It wasn’t an overly confident nod, but he decided to take it as a good sign.

  “Let me . . . just tell them we’ll be back.” He stood up and opened the door and popped his head inside. “Hey . . . Chloe and I are going to grab a cup of coffee.”

  “But I haven’t even got to meet her yet,” Bella whined.

  “That’s fine,” Kelly spoke up, looking at him as if asking if things were going okay.

  He sent her a nod.

  She smiled.

  “But—” Bella started to whine.

  Kelly gave her daughter a warning look. “Young lady.”

  Bella frowned. “Don’t be late.”

  “We won’t. I promise,” he told Bella.

  He turned around and when he did, Chloe was gone.

  Shit! Scared she’d changed her mind, he took off.

  He nearly ran right into her standing on the other side of the gate.

  “You’re here,” he said.

  “I was just giving you some privacy.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I just . . .”

  “Thought I left,” she answered.

  “Yeah.” Admitting made him feel so vulnerable, but he was.

  She started walking out front. He followed.

  “My car’s in the garage.” He patted his pockets, realizing he’d probably set his keys down on the table. “My keys. I need to get . . .”

  “I can drive,” she offered.

  They walked across the lawn without talking. She was so close, it was physically painful not to be able to hold her against him.

  She almost got to her car and stopped. Then she looked up him.

  Don’t change your mind. Please don’t . . .

  “That wasn’t the only lie I told you.”

  Her words rang with guilt. He didn’t have a clue what to say. Or what she might have lied about. But then he realized that it didn’t matter. “I’ll forgive you.”

  “I told you I didn’t want promises. But . . . I do.”

  “Chloe—”

  “No, let me finish,” she said. She touched his chest and then pulled her hands away. “If you aren’t the kind of guy who can give promises, then maybe I should just go inside, see your niece, give her my shirts, and be on my way.”

  He couldn’t stop himself anymore. He moved in, placing his hands on each of her shoulders. “Chloe, do you really think I’ve been texting you, calling you, buying a ticket to go to Florida, and getting my sister to lie, just because I want a short fling? You’ve had me since Room Six. Until you walked into that room, I wasn’t all that upset thinking I was dead.”

  Damn if touching her didn’t hurt, like electrical currents shooting from his palms all the way to his heart. Even with the pain, it felt so damn right. “It scares the hell out of me, but I’m already in love with you.”

  Tears filled her eyes and one slipped from her lashes. He moved his hand to catch it. “I love you.” When she still didn’t say anything, he did. “This is where you can tell me that you feel the same. Or almost the same. I’ll take almost,” he said.

  She smiled and leaned in, pressing her hands on his chest. She looked up at him. “You’ve had me since Room Six, too.”

  He laughed, pure joy swelling inside him as he leaned against her car and pulled her against him. She fit against him perfectly. That feeling hit again, the one of just happiness.

  She brushed her hands over his shoulders. “I love you, Cary Stevens.”

  “I know,” he said.

  She chuckled. “You do.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I feel it.” His leaned in to kiss her. He hadn’t meant to get carried away, but damn if he didn’t. She tasted so damn good. Their tongues touched. She eased closer. Her soft breasts against his chest felt like heaven. His body tightened. And he wished like hell he had time to take her back to his place, take her clothes off, and make slow love to her.

  “Get a room,” a voice called out and they pulled apart.

  He looked up at a pink Cadillac inching down the street. The driver’s side window was open and a gray-haired, elderly woman had her head leaning out.

  Chloe glanced over her shoulder.

  He heard her gasp then she swung her head back around. “She looks like . . . like . . . ?”

  He laughed. “Do you believe in fate?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Me, too.”

  Another car parked up the street. It was Beth. She walked across the front lawn, giving them a quick glance and wave, as if unsure if she should say anything.

  “We should probably just go on inside,” Chloe said.

  He pulled her against him again. “Give me just a few more minutes before I have to share you.”

  As Beth walked inside his sister’s house, a tiny, hairy, pint-sized dog ran out, its pink bows stirring in the wind.

  His sister called the animal back.

  Afraid his new-found, crossing-dressing mutt might dart into the street, he picked Pooch up. The animal lifted his head and tried to lick his chin. When Cary pulled back, the animal stretched his neck and tried to lick Chloe.

  He eyed the animal and then Chloe. “I agreed to keep him.”

  She laughed. “I knew you would.”

  “You don’t hate him or anything, do you?”

  “No.”

  “Good.” He leaned a little closer and stared into her blue eyes. “Because I’m keeping you, too.”

  “Really?” She lifted a brow and studied him. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

  With Pooch in one hand, he used his other to run his finger over her cheek. “I had to die to find you, Chloe Sanders, and now I plan to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

  She stepped up on her tips toes and kissed him softly on the cheek. “Consider me a kept woman.”

  Books by Christie Craig

  Divorced and Desperate Series

  Divorced, Desperate and Delicious

  Divorced, Desperate and Dating

  Divorced, Desperate and Deceived

  Divorced, Desperate and Dangerous

  Divorced, Desperate and Dead

  Divorced, Desperate and Daring

  Hotter in Texas Series

  Only in Texas

  Blame It on Texas

  Texas Hold ’Em

  Tall, Hot & Texan

  Gotcha!

  The Cop Who Stole Christmas

  Weddings Can Be Murder

  Shut Up and Kiss Me

  Murder, Mayhem and Mama

  Love, Laughter and a Little Murder: 3 Novels by Christie Craig

  (anthology containing Murder, Mayhem and Mama;

  Weddings Can Be Murder; and Gotcha!)

  For more information: www.Christie-Craig.com

  YOUNG ADULT N
OVELS BY

  CHRISTIE CRAIG WRITING AS C. C. HUNTER

  New York Times Bestselling Shadow Falls Series (Young Adult)

  Born at Midnight

  Turned at Dark (free novella)

  Awake at Dawn

  Taken at Dusk

  Whispers at Moonrise

  Saved at Sunrise (novella)

  Chosen at Nightfall

  Spellbinder (novella)

  Almost Midnight: Shadow Falls: The Novella Collection

  Shadow Falls: After Dark Series (Young Adult)

  Reborn

  Unbreakable (novella)

  Eternal

  Unspoken

  Midnight Hour

  For more information: www.CCHunterBooks.com

  Excerpt from Divorced, Desperate and Dangerous

  Keep reading for an excerpt

  from another new book in the

  Divorced and Desperate series

  by Christie Craig,

  Divorced, Desperate and Dangerous,

  available now!

  Reese Morris has run away from home. She’s left behind her adoring but overbearing grandmother, her broken heart . . . and most importantly, the no-good Texan jerk who broke it. She told him her secrets. He told her lies. He was nothing more than an undercover cop wanting one thing—and it wasn’t her—he was out to bust her brother and his thug boss. How could she let him con her into feeling so damn much?

  For two months, Detective Turner Calder hasn’t been able to forget the betrayed look in Reese’s eyes when she found out he’d deceived her. Now two witnesses from that case have been murdered, and he’s traveling halfway across the country to protect her. If that means taking on her seventy-year-old grandma who has a black belt in Karate, a hired assassin—who scares him less than Granny—and the whole bat-shit crazy town of Hung, Georgia, he’s up for the challenge. Because the biggest danger of all would be losing her.

  Chapter One

  Reese Morris stepped inside Casey’s Honkytonk Diner—definitely more diner than honkytonk—and slipped back in time sixteen years. It hadn’t changed.

  She moved through the crowd, and her gaze shifted to the first booth on the right. Just like that, she was twelve years old, wearing her new vacation beachwear and smelling like sunscreen. Across from her sat her parents, and beside her, too happy to sit still, wiggled her four-year-old brother, Ricky. The beach waited less than a block away.

  On the wall hung the same ol’ pictures and the swordfish with a broken nose. Finally, seeing past the nostalgia, she realized the place had changed. Time hadn’t been kind to the hole in the wall.

  It looked like hell. But it smelled like heaven.

  No, it smelled like home.

  Like Granny’s kitchen back in Texas. Granny, determined to live to a hundred, followed every health guideline the Surgeon General put out.

  Except one.

  Breakfast.

  Nobody got in the way of Granny’s morning meal. And if you were at her house, she cooked it, and you ate it. Since Reese had lived with Granny from the time her parents died ‘til she got her job as a teacher, she had learned to associate that first meal of the day with . . . love.

  Reese inhaled the smell of bacon, eggs, and white bread toasted to perfection. This was it, she decided. For the next two and a half months, she was hanging her hat in Hung, Georgia. If you had to run away from home, why not run to a place that smelled like home? Her gaze shifted back to the booth. The one that held good memories.

  Now, all she had to do was secure a job to help her get by. Face it, on a teacher’s salary a person could barely afford one apartment, let alone two. While she had run away from home, she planned to run back when school started—hopefully with her heart on the mend. So, a second income was a necessity.

  And since she’d worked her way through college slinging hash, this place would do just fine. There wasn’t a ‘Help Wanted’ sign on the door, but the crowd waiting to get seated, and the several un-bused booths, told another story.

  Decision made, she cased out the joint for a manager-looking type. The older lady behind the bar, cooking, and spouting out orders to two waitresses, appeared to fit the bill. Now didn’t seem to be the time to ask for an application, but it might be time to prove her worthiness.

  Collecting a towel and a large busing tray sitting to the side of the counter, she went to work.

  With the background music of southern voices, forks hitting plates, and the sound of sizzling bacon in the background, Reese stacked the dishes and wiped down three booths and two tables. With her tray full, she glanced around to find her way to the dishwashing area.

  The door in the back had to be it. The young guy trying to keep up with the dishes barely gave her a glance.

  For the next ten minutes, Reese cleaned and set up tables. When she got to the booth she and her parents had claimed as their own on that one vacation, she slipped back in time . . .

  “Can we go next door to the toy store? Can we? Can we?” her brother asked.

  Her mom looked at Reese. “Can you take him?”

  Reese would’ve rather stayed and watched the cute bus boy, but she agreed.

  “He’s your responsibility,” her mom told her, the same way she always told her about Ricky. “He’s your little brother. Take care of him.”

  Inhaling, pushing back regrets, Reese looked at the empty booth where her mom had once sat and wondered if she knew Reese had failed. Oh, she’d gotten Ricky safe and sound from the toy store, but look where he was now.

  Sorry, Mom. Then, because she swore not to think about that, she put some real elbow grease into cleaning a week’s worth of sticky off the memory-filled booth. All the while, wishing all it took was elbow grease to push away the memories of the last two months.

  Moving to the next dirty table, she felt the lady flipping bacon—Casey, she’d heard someone call her, she was right—giving her a cautious eye. The two waitresses working the floor just looked appreciative, but they were too far in the weeds to express it verbally. One of them started seating customers in Reese’s clean tables.

  “Honey, I need some more coffee,” said a man wearing a pink shirt and Bermuda shorts with big pineapples on them.

  Reese wavered and looked back. Getting coffee meant she’d have to go behind the bar to get the pot. Considering Casey hadn’t run her off yet, she decided to brave it. She shot behind the counter, got one confused look from the old woman, but snagged the coffee and refilled cups for all the tables.

  Fifteen minutes later, she’d made another pot of coffee, cleared a couple more booths, and even rolled some silverware. The crowd of waiting customers was growing antsy, so Reese grabbed a couple of menus. “Follow me.”

  “No!” Casey’s voice called out from behind the bar.

  Reese glanced back, unsure if the woman was talking to her.

  She was.

  Casey’s spatula was pointed right at Reese, her wrist shifting back and forth. Reese debated ducking, fearing the woman might chuck it at her. “Locals get first dibs on tables,” Casey snapped.

  “Okay.” Reese faced the stunned couple sporting beachwear and smelling like sunscreen. “Sorry,” she muttered, and looked at the next couple standing by the sign she’d not noticed.

  “You locals?” she asked.

  “Born and raised and proud to be Hungers,” said the middle-aged woman, with what appeared to be her middle-aged husband.

  “Follow me.” Reese felt Casey staring, and expected to feel a spatula hit her any minute.

  It didn’t.

  She continued busing tables and seating customers for an hour. She got scolded two more times by Casey when she forgot to ask if the people were locals or tourists. Obviously, the gray-haired owner didn’t like tourists. Never mind that over half her business stemmed from the out-of-town beachgoers.

  Amazingly, the smell coming from the grill convinced even the non-locals to accept their second-class status, and not one person walked out.

&nbs
p; Obviously, Casey’s Honkytonk Diner was still the breakfast hot spot in Hung that it had been years ago.

  By ten thirty, the morning rush over, Reese busied herself wiping the syrup off the menus. Her phone, tucked in her back pocket, vibrated for a second time, but she ignored it. Good employees didn’t answer calls during work hours. Besides, it was probably just Granny giving her more hell for taking off. She’d spoken to her late last night after she’d checked into a hotel in Katyville a mile from the bridge that lead to the island.

  In the corner of her vision, she saw Casey untie her apron, hang it on a wall hook, and crook her finger at Reese. “Booth ten. Now.”

  Reese swallowed a knot of nerves, relieved the woman had left her spatula behind.

  Shoulders held firm, she followed the woman to the back booth for what she hoped would be an interview. Surely, Casey couldn’t be nearly as difficult as Granny. Could she?

  • • •

  Detective Turner Calder stormed into his boss’s office. Sergeant Cox looked up from his desk, obviously pissed he hadn’t knocked. Turner didn’t give a rat’s ass if Cox got pissed or not.

  He ran a hand through his hair, worn long since he’d taken to doing some undercover work a year ago. “I just got a call from the DA on the Harper case.”

  “Yeah, I know, she called me too. Talk about bad luck, but at least we’ve got Rick Morris and his sister.”