How long was he staying?
Where did he usually live?
Speculation was rife, but Reyna wasn’t sure of the truth. The Sullivans were too busy enjoying his company to talk to their neighbors about him. Reyna knew only that he was gorgeous, apparently single, and that time was of the essence.
Who knew how long he’d stay?
He must be a contractor or a carpenter, helping out his aunt and uncle on his vacation or between jobs. Reyna liked him for that alone.
Never mind the novelty of a nice guy.
Kade was obviously a straight arrow. Level gaze, short hair, he was as far from Reyna’s typical choice of a bad boy with a reputation as could be. He’d been clean-shaven when he arrived, but now had about three days’ growth of beard. He must have been trimming it because it didn’t get longer—it didn’t make him look disreputable either. He was polite to old ladies, even nosy Mrs. Foster. He’d helped Mitch Gardener’s son launch his kite, over and over again, the previous Saturday. He seemed to have endless patience with his aunt and uncle’s home, another Victorian much like Reyna’s own. She knew how much trouble those old houses could be.
Maybe instead taking a risk with a bad boy, it was time for Reyna to ask for what she wanted—instead of taking what a man offered.
The butterfly seemed to hum in agreement.
Reyna was going to lead Kade Sullivan astray, for just one night.
She wouldn’t regret it, and she’d make sure he didn’t either.
Every time Kade stepped out the door of his aunt and uncle’s house, he felt as if he’d entered a Norman Rockwell painting.
Actually, he had that sense inside their house, too. He could have been a time traveler, or the town itself could have been unmoored from its rightful place in a kinder, gentler past only to end up in a modern age at odds with its core beliefs.
Maybe the juxtaposition was why he liked it so much.
Maybe it was why he could think so clearly in Honey Hill.
On this particular Tuesday morning, he volunteered to pick up the ordered can of paint at the general store, leaving his uncle to finish priming the elaborate wooden porch. Louise and Derek had lovingly restored the Victorian house and this iteration of the exterior paint would turn it into a “painted lady,” with five colors of paint. It was a lot of work but it already looked amazing and Kade found a certain satisfaction in helping.
Honey Hill was anchored by a single intersection: on one corner was the old bank, a solid brick two-storey building, although it was no longer occupied by a financial institution. The bank’s presence had been reduced to an automatic teller machine on the outside wall. The building had become Wright’s Diner, open most of the time (except Sunday night) and seldom so busy that you couldn’t get a table.
On the next corner, moving clockwise around the intersection, was the First Congregational Church. It was an imposing wooden structure, even older than the bank, with a tall tower pointing at the heavens in case anyone forgot who was in charge. Kade liked the sound of its bell on sleepy Sundays.
On the next corner, diagonal from the bank, was the general store, which included the post office. The building had been there for over a hundred years. The general store had a little bit of just about everything, albeit more expensive than at the big chains, but already its inventory had saved Kade a long drive on a few occasions.
The final corner should have held the town hall, but it had burned down some years before. Since the town had been officially absorbed by the larger municipality of Moose Lake, that lot remained empty except for the paved drive and parking lot.
On the north side of the street west of the general store was a single block of shops and offices, most of which were located in converted homes. Some had a retail shop in the front and a private residence behind and above. One in particular drew Kade’s attention. It was called Cupcake Heaven, which didn’t interest him nearly as much as the gorgeous woman who owned it. He guessed that she’d converted the ground floor of the house to her shop and kitchen, and lived above it.
Between it and the general store was a thrift shop. Aunt Louise said it had been opened by the mother of the current owner. She admired that Penny had taken the business upmarket with her vintage finds and that she also ran a thriving online business. On the other side of Cupcake Heaven was a used bookstore which was only open on Saturdays—except if the owner slept in, forgot, or didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Kade had only met Clem once or twice, and that man always had either a book in his hand or a fishing rod.
The opposite side of the street was filled with houses of varying ages, including the one owned by his aunt and uncle. An accountant ran his office from one of them, and old Doc Maitland had his practice from the back of another. The Sullivans’ house was a glorious Victorian painted lady centered on a large lot that designated the western boundary of Honey Hill. Beyond that, the main road dwindled, first turning to dirt, then becoming a dead end.
Honey Hill was peaceful and just the kind of place Kade needed to pull himself together.
He needed to move past the incident. He thought he was making progress, but he was still hesitating at the shooting range. They said it would take time, and even though he got impatient with that, he knew the shrink was right.
He had to be completely on his game before returning to the force, because he wasn’t going to put his partner at risk. It looked like he’d be doing a lot more painting on his uncle’s porch.
On the upside, that would give him more opportunity to enjoy the sight of Reyna Tate.
The owner of Cupcake Heaven had to be the most unlikely resident of Honey Hill.
Maybe that was why she intrigued Kade.
Maybe that was why he’d noticed her immediately.
Even after two weeks in town, he couldn’t figure out what a woman like her was doing in Honey Hill. Everything about her said “city girl”—or maybe “urban tigress.” He had absolutely no doubt that she could defend herself, maybe with a gun but more likely with something like jujitsu or karate. A skill that required intellect and speed, as well as perceptiveness.
He was aware that his assessment was mostly due to her tattoos. Every bit of her skin that he’d seen was covered with ink. He’d noticed them on the backs of her hands and on her legs beneath her stockings. Her stockings had seams up the back, as if they were stockings, and that tempted him to wonder about garter belts and other intriguing lingerie beneath her skirts.
That took his mind straight to the gutter.
It ensured that he thought about her at night, while he was working on the porch, and pretty much every other time of the day. His interest ensured that he walked on the same side of the street as her shop, and that he was hoping for a chance to talk to her one day. What was her voice like? Kade wanted to know.
Her tattoos were obviously part of her personal style and statement, because she had lots of them. Kade glimpsed them on all of her exposed skin. He didn’t particularly like tattoos. He associated them with gangs and trouble, but knew that was a cop’s perspective. Reyna might be trouble of a different kind, a more personal flavor than criminals, and maybe that was why her tattoos intrigued him. Why did she have so many? What did they mean? Did they have to mean anything?
She dressed with a retro verve that caught the eye, too. Her nails and lipstick always matched perfectly, but Kade was more interested in the shapely curve of her legs. He wasn’t the only man in Honey Hill who turned to look when Reyna walked by.
He wondered if he was the only one who wanted to see her naked.
Immediately.
She was never disheveled. Her nails were never chipped. Her lipstick always looked as if it had just been applied. That made Kade wonder if her carefully managed look was a disguise. A mask.
Or defensive armor.
Against what? He shouldn’t have wanted to know as much as he did.
Kade didn’t have to ask about Reyna, because it seemed everyone in Honey Hill was prepared to
talk about her. His aunt Louise had plenty to say about Reyna. Kade just had to listen, which he’d done, without looking like he was doing it. He’d learned plenty.
Reyna had come from a city, although which one was a matter of debate. Maybe New York, maybe Boston, maybe even Montreal. It depended who was telling the story. They were consistent in saying that she’d showed up two springs before and blown into town like a whirlwind. She’d bought the old Young place, which had been for sale for five years, ever since Helen Young finally died at a hundred and two years of age.
The Victorian house had been a wreck and a shame it had been, too. Aunt Louise said that was because Helen had been too frugal to pay for a damn thing and after her children moved away, decades before, she’d run out of people to ask for favors. No one liked to do a job without at least a word of thanks. With Helen, it had apparently been even money that there’d be criticism. By the time she’d died, there’d been animals living in the attic and cellar, broken windows, filth like nobody’s business. No one had wanted to take that on, not until Reyna Tate had come to town. Reyna had walked through the house once, the story went, made an offer, and paid cash.
She’d paid cash for the renovations, too, according to Aunt Louise, who seemed to have a complete inventory of what had been done even though she insisted she’d never seen inside. Reyna had updated the mechanicals, repaired the roof, waterproofed the cellar and installed a commercial kitchen. There was a lot of speculation as to where she’d gotten that much cash, more cash than anyone in Honey Hill could have pulled together at any point in their lives, and her still so young. The other townspeople tsked at this, their eyes filled with speculation.
Reyna had worked hard, though. There was a grudging respect for the scrubbing and painting she’d done over those years, and an open admiration of how the house had been restored to splendor. Opinions were divided on her cupcake business. Aunt Louise was among those who thought fancy sweets were a foolish indulgence, while others found the confections so irresistible that they couldn’t imagine life in Honey Hill without them.
She was also said to be vehemently single. Not one man’s name had ever been linked with hers, or even that of a woman. This also prompted speculation since she was young and pretty.
Reyna Tate was a puzzle and a half, that was for sure, and Kade told himself it was only natural for him to be so curious. Little did Kade realize that on this day, some of his questions about Reyna Tate were going to be answered—but that would only make him more intrigued.
Reyna heard the wooden storm door slam on the Sullivans’ porch and knew this was her chance. She brushed off her favorite turquoise dress with the cherries on the skirt hem, checked her lipstick, and went to the window to watch. Kade was just coming down the street and looked as delicious as ever.
She watched as Kade strode down the opposite side of the street, all six-foot-four scrumptious perfection of him, obviously destined for the general store. She’d wait for him to come back, because he’d walk on her side of the street then. Wearing a plaid flannel shirt hadn’t made him look any more like a local than the short beard. Did he iron his jeans? He certainly polished his boots. He disappeared into the general store and she took a composing breath, knowing he wouldn’t be long.
She almost licked her lips in anticipation but remembered her lipstick in time.
On this particular sunny May day, there was only one car in front of the general store. The cardinals were singing. After a few moments, Reyna heard the door of the general store close and Kade’s deep voice as he called something to Joe, the owner. By the time she reached the door, Kade was making quick progress down the street. He was carrying a small can, maybe of paint or varnish.
Reyna took a steadying breath. It had been a while and she wondered now if her charm might be a little rusty. She’d never been nervous around men, but there was something about Kade that rattled her. Maybe it was because they were so different.
Maybe it was because it had been so long.
He passed Penny’s shop, sparing a glance toward the window, then came into view. Reyna picked up a cupcake in a box and stepped out her own front door, timing it perfectly so that Kade was at the path that came to her door right when he looked up at her. The direction he should walk was completely obvious.
Reyna never saw a lot of reason to be subtle.
Kade stopped just as anticipated and surveyed her, eyed the cupcake box, then met her gaze again. “Good morning, Miss Tate,” he said, as formal as if they were at a Regency tea.
“Good morning,” Reyna replied. “And it’s Reyna.”
He smiled slowly enough to set her on fire. “Reyna, then. It’s a fine day.”
“It certainly is. I have no complaints about the view.” Reyna surveyed him, not troubling to hide how much she liked what she saw.
Was he discomfited? She couldn’t tell. Interested? She wasn’t sure. His expression remained as carefully composed as before. Attentive. Friendly.
There was no heat in his eyes though.
He couldn’t be gay. That would be cosmic injustice of the worst order. She knew he wasn’t married and she didn’t think he had a girlfriend.
“How’s business?” he asked, sparing a glance down the deserted street.
“Great.”
Skepticism touched his expression. “Really?”
“Really.” Reyna smiled and walked toward him. His gaze dropped to her heels, which meant he wasn’t dead or gay. In fact, he had a good look at her legs. She took encouragement where she found it. “That’s because I go into Portland twice a week. I have commercial accounts and also participate in a local market in the summer.”
He nodded approval, his gaze lingering for the barest moment on her tattoos, at least those that were visible. “It would be tough to make a profit just in town here.”
“I have a great product. All it takes is a taste for me to find a new customer.” Reyna spoke with confidence because it was true. She offered the box, opening it so he could see the perfection nestled inside. It was a red velvet cupcake, her best seller, with chocolate icing. It was garnished with a trio of fondant hearts, in different sizes and slightly different colors, and a stemmed maraschino cherry. “Try one and see.”
His gaze dropped quickly to the confection then rose to meet hers again. He had the most wonderful brown eyes, with a bit of gold around the iris. “Thank you, but I don’t eat sweets.”
“Don’t tell me that you’re sweet enough already,” Reyna countered with a playful smile. “Because if you were, you’d accept my cupcake.”
His smile broadened enough to reveal a dimple below one corner and a little something sparked in his eyes. It was enough to make Reyna’s heart skip. “It’s very kind of you...”
“No, it’s not. It’s business development.”
“Is it?”
“Donut shops give free coffee to cops. I’m raising the bar and widening the distribution.” Did his gaze flick to hers? What had she said that might alarm him? Reyna had no idea.
“I don’t see any coffee.” Kade almost looked disappointed.
Reyna wasn’t going to let opportunity slip away. “Would that sweeten the deal?”
“I do drink coffee,” he admitted, as if this was a great fault.
“If that’s the sum of your weaknesses, I can teach you some new ones.”
He laughed then, a good hearty laugh that made Mrs. Foster across the street peer out from behind her curtains. “Starting with cupcakes?” he said in a teasing tone.
“The world would be a better place with more cupcakes.”
“A sweeter place?” he suggested and this time Reyna laughed.
“Definitely.” She offered the box again. “Come inside, and I’ll make you a coffee to go with it.”
He hesitated only for a moment, glancing once down toward his aunt and uncle’s house, then took the box. It looked small and colorful in his strong hands. Unlikely. She treated herself to a good long look at his hands, easily i
magining them on her skin. “Thank you. My aunt’s coffee is a bit less robust than I’m used to,” he admitted, obviously reluctant to complain.
“I make jet fuel.”
His eyes lit. “Count me in.”
Reyna gestured to the shop and climbed the steps to the door. She turned around at the door in time to find him looking at her legs again with undisguised appreciation.
He seemed uncomfortable when their gazes met, as if she’d caught him doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.
Such a nice guy.
She was really going to enjoy being a bad girl with him.
Reyna smiled and turned back to the shop door, making sure her skirt swirled as she did it. She heard him clear his throat and knew this seduction was going to work out just fine.
Talk about fantasies coming true. Kade couldn’t believe his luck.
Was Reyna as curious about him as he was about her?
He hoped so.
Reyna was wearing a vivid turquoise dress with red trim on the short sleeves and around the collar, as well as a line of bright red cherries around the hem. It was belted tightly, showing off her narrow waist, and the skirt swung wide when she moved, showing a lot of white lace underneath. Once again, his thoughts turned to the prospect of exploring what she was wearing, as well as her tattoos.
Because of the short sleeves, he could see that the ink on the backs of her hands continued to her elbows, and probably beyond. Her tattoos were flowers, in full bloom and full color, cascading over her skin in a way that seemed lush. He could see ink in her cleavage and wondered if the majority of her body was decorated. Her shoes were very high heels, shiny and red, as if they’d been dipped like candy apples.
Kade followed Reyna into her shop. He told himself that he was just learning about the people in town, though he knew he was particularly interested in this resident. He knew he wasn’t gathering information for his aunt, although he had no doubt there would be questions.
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