by Lily Rede
Matt’s house was a loss, which was tragic, but he reported that he just felt lucky to be alive. Anything else was gravy. He’d be staying at Grace’s for a while.
Forever if I can manage it, thought Grace.
Matt’s shoulder was on the mend, and since he’d help bring down a dangerous arsonist, apparently the town had pushed him back into the ‘hero’ category.
The object of her affections walked into the library wearing a sling, and Grace hurried forward.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“You weren’t with me, so I figured, what’s the point? Just got a call from Evie. Russell came in, gave a full report. Apparently when Russell installed the toxic drywall, Darryl tried to have it switched out, but it was too late, and they stood to lose a fortune if it became a problem.”
“What’s going to happen to Russell?”
“He might serve some time. His company is going under, though. Old Mr. Lansky was less than thrilled with his two sons.”
He wrapped his good arm loosely around Grace’s waist. She tensed out of habit and then relaxed, ignoring the curious eyes that watched them.
“God, you look hot today.”
Grace looked down at herself – the simple purple plaid skirt and sweater were downright conservative by her standards.
“We should have gotten your eyes checked last night, too.”
“I’m thinking about those garters you have on under your skirt.”
“Oh, well that’s okay, then.”
She slid her arms around his neck, careful of his wound.
“Wanna go make out in the stacks for a while?” he asked, nuzzling her cheek.
“I have a better idea.”
Grace grabbed the microphone and hit the “on” switch.
“Attention library customers, the library will be closing in ten minutes so that Fiona can go visit her step-father in the hospital, and so that I can go take care of my boyfriend, who just saved the town from disaster and proved that my baby brother didn’t have anything to do with it. Anybody who has a problem with that can bite me.”
She caught Fiona’s laughing eye and as her friend started dealing with the customers checking out their last books and heading out the door.
“You go ahead. I’ll lock up behind me,” she told Fiona, loudly enough for everyone to hear it.
“I see you’re taking Adam’s advice about standing up for yourself to heart.”
“In my own way, yes.”
Grace tugged him into the shadowy stacks at the back of the library and he wasted no time, sliding his lips down her throat while he slid a hand up her skirt.
“Mmm…garters.”
“We have to be careful for a while. I don’t want to do anything that will damage your arm.”
“What arm?” mumbled Matt as he sank to his knees to nose her skirt out of the way.
Grace threaded her hands in Matt’s hair and leaned back against the book case, letting him slide her thigh over his good shoulder, licking a worshipful line along one black lace garter.
“Ever done it in Natural History before?”
“There’s a lot of things I haven’t done,” said Grace, her heart clenching as Matt smiled back at her, an answering hint of wariness and hope in his eyes.
“Me too,” said Matt, “We should make a list.”
“A long, long list,” said Grace.
And they smiled at each other for a long moment before Matt lowered his head and proceeded to rock Grace Mallow’s world.
EPILOGUE
THE STUNNING REDHEAD ENTERED the Bright’s Ferry Sheriff’s Department to find a cool, gray-eyed deputy frowning over a mountain of paperwork at the front desk. She looked up at the newcomer, taking in every detail in one comprehensive sweep – from the faded but stylish coat to the worn boots on her feet.
“Can I help you?”
She stepped up to the desk, twisting her fingers as she pulled off her gloves. It would be winter soon, and the days were getting cold.
“I was looking for Deputy Arnetto. Is he in?”
“You mean Sheriff Arnetto?”
“Yes, of course. Last time I saw him, he was still a deputy.”
Sheriff.
“Can I give him your name?”
She hesitated.
“Sorry, this was a mistake,” she said and turned to go.
Tony appeared in the doorway to the Sheriff’s office, holding an open file folder.
“Evie, could you get Matt Harris on the phone? I can’t make heads or tails of his handwriting.”
He looked up and she stopped in her tracks.
How could I have forgotten how gorgeous he is?
Tall and strong, with a face so beautiful she ached at the sight of it, he was exactly as she remembered him, except for the dark eyes filled with pain. She remembered when they were filled with love. With heat and passion and joy. For her.
She offered a tentative smile.
“Hello…Sheriff.”
“Nora.”
The play of emotions on his face moved swiftly from shock to relief to anger, and he turned to the deputy, his eyes stormy.
“I see you’ve met Evie. Evie Asher, this is Nora. She’s my wife.”
THE END
Spend a little time in Bright’s Ferry!
Don’t miss Book #1, Safe From the Dark.
Book #3, Safe From the Storm – Coming June, 2013
SAFE FROM THE DARK
EXCERPT
“SON OF A BITCH!”
Evie Asher swerved to avoid the fallen tree, only to feel the sedan jerk as the tires sank six inches into the mud off the side of what only the most charitable of lunatics would call a road. It was only mid-afternoon, but the thunderclouds and sheets of rain had darkened the October day to twilight and turned the dirt road into sludge. Ten minutes of spinning wheels confirmed her bad luck – stuck fast.
Fucking perfect, Evie thought, and slammed her hand against the steering wheel, instantly regretting it as splinters of pain shot up her aching arm to the partially-healed wounds in her shoulder and side. She had ignored the sling for the trip from New York, finding it awkward to drive one-handed, but after ten hours, even Evie’s legendary stamina was giving out and her whole left side was one big, burning ache. She squinted through the rain-slicked windshield at the split road ahead and considered her options. If memory served, her grandmother’s cabin was about a mile up the right fork. The nearest neighbors were the Daniels, a half mile down the opposite fork.
Evie had a vague recollection of her Gram taking her to visit Martha Daniels, who smelled of lemon and clean linen, cooing over her and wishing she had a little girl of her own. It was a nice memory, one of Evie’s last good ones before her life went to hell. She wondered if Mrs. Daniels would remember her fondly or if disapproval would fill her eyes when she opened the door. If Evie were lucky, she wouldn’t remember her at all. Evie had changed, grown up miraculously in one piece, and remade her life as a tough and capable member of the NYPD, until a few weeks ago, when two bullets had knocked her out of commission and her monumentally bad relationship decision had blown up in her face. Apparently the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
The discovery that her grandmother had left her the property in Bright’s Ferry, despite everything, had been a welcome surprise. There was a chance the gossip hadn’t spread this far. Bright’s Ferry was about as rural as you could get, quietly tucked against a secluded New England bay, a good spot to start over. Unless, of course, your parents were at the center of the biggest town scandal in decades. Still, it had been twenty years, and Evie had nowhere else to go.
Maybe this time it will stick, she thought with a sigh.
At the very least, Martha and Hank Daniels would let her use the phone to call the town’s lone garage. It was the good human thing to do, regardless of whatever news about her might have made it back to them.
Evie checked her cell phone, unsurprised by the lack of bars, and shoved it into her backpack.
There was no way around it, she was going to get soaked. She had never waited around to be rescued, and she wasn’t about to start now. Evie took a quick glance around the car, reached for the door handle, and then paused.
You don’t need the gun, she reminded her inner cop, who grumbled.
A brief inner struggle and Evie opened the glove compartment, grabbed her 9mm, and awkwardly shrugged into her shoulder holster, gasping in pain. She immediately felt better when the weight of the weapon settled into its customary place, and cautiously eased her hoodie on over it.
One more hour, she promised herself. One more hour and you’ll be lounging in front of a fireplace, drinking a nice pinot and reading about the dark-eyed Sabatino doing deliciously illicit things to his Contessa on the library floor.
She hefted the backpack onto her good side and stepped out into the rain.
SHIVERING AND COMPLETELY DRENCHED, Evie dropped her backpack on the Daniels’ porch. It was a beautiful hundred-year-old farmhouse that was obviously in the process of being restored – scaffolding protected a new wing off the side of the two-story structure. Evie spared only a quick glance around – her teeth were starting to chatter.
Fingers tight with cold, Evie raised a hand to knock.
Nothing.
Come on, come on.
Someone had to be home, judging from the sporty little SUV in the driveway sitting next to a more utilitarian truck. The lights within blazed with beckoning warmth and the smoky scent of a fireplace teased Evie with promises of heat and comfort.
She knocked harder, kicking the door for good measure, stumbling back as it jerked open.
“What the hell, Tom? Can’t a guy take one Sunday afternoon – ”
He broke off abruptly, hazel eyes widening.
Evie tried to form words, but her brain inconveniently chose that moment to shut down, obviously overloaded by impending hypothermia and the sight of six plus feet of bare, tanned muscle standing in the doorway, clutching a blanket around his waist with lean, elegant hands. His skin had a light sheen of sweat and his dark hair was ruffled over those bright hazel eyes.
Hot.
Even the inner cop whimpered and she gave it a mental shove.
Pull it together, Asher.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Mr. or Mrs. Daniels – ”
His brows snapped together with a frown.
“They’re dead. Over a year now. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I was headed to the old Asher cabin down the road and my car got stuck.”
“You were trying to get out there in this?”
Incredulous, he gestured and the blanket slipped just a bit, exposing another inch of taut waist and a narrow pelt of dark hair under his navel that arrowed downward in a most interesting manner.
Evie swallowed and kept her eyes on his.
“I just need a phone to call the garage, if that’s okay.”
“Colin?” The breathy voice drifting down the stairs had Evie’s face heating in a blush, despite her shivers, as her brain stuttered back into working order.
Two cars in the driveway, panting sex god in the doorway. Way to go, Asher. You just cock-blocked your new neighbor.