by Lucy Score
“Thought we might tempt you with early man dinner,” Carter said, letting Jonathan slide to the floor.
The toddler waved at Donovan and scampered over to the file cabinet drawer that held among other things, a stuffed police teddy bear that the kid had made at Build a Bear and a bunch of plastic tools. While Jonathan giggled to himself trying to make the bear hold a bright yellow chisel, Carter slid the pizza onto Donovan’s desk and planted himself in one of the visitor’s chairs.
“Got beer?”
“The owner of a brewery asks me for beer.” Donovan shook his head at the irony. He reached into the mini fridge behind him and fished out a beer, a water, and one juice box.
“You’ve got this honorary uncle thing down,” Carter said, tearing off two paper towels and using them to plate slices of pepperoni pizza.
“When you end up with forty-seven nieces and nephews over the span of a year, you adapt quickly.”
“What can I say?” He shrugged. “All the Pierces jumped on the marriage and kid train. When are you joining us?”
Eyes narrowed, Donovan took a bite of pizza. “You join the Beautification Committee?”
Carter snickered and combed a hand through his dark beard. “No, but I did see the pics of Eva today. You looked like the Big Bad Wolf ready to swallow Little Red whole.”
“Did not,” Donovan argued.
“Too. John, you want pizza, or do you want to wait?” Carter asked, turning his attention to his son who was making drill noises and pretending to stab holes into the wall of file cabinets.
“I wait,” Jonathan announced without taking his attention away from his work.
“Hard worker that one. Where are your ladies today?” Donovan asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from Eva and the things he looked like he wanted to do to her.
“Summer and Meadow are doing a Facebook Live thing for the magazine with Gia and her girls. Something on parenting girls to be awesome instead of nice.”
“Good topic,” Donovan said, reaching for a second slice.
“Back to the original topic. Why haven’t you made a move on Little Red yet?”
Carter was not one to be deterred or distracted and Donovan should have known better, having known the man his entire life. He didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t interested. The entire town saw him mooning over her like a teenager at Phoebe and Franklin’s wedding earlier that year. “It’s a big transition moving to Blue Moon. I wanted to give her some space so she could settle in.”
Carter chomped on a piece of crust. “Commendable bullshit. What’s the real reason?”
Donovan ran a hand absently over the back of his neck. “Ah, hell.”
“Boooolshif,” Jonathan said in a sing-song voice.
Carter grimaced. “I’ll fix that later. Talk.”
“She scares the hell out of me,” Donovan said, giving his confession in a rush. “I saw her and from that moment on I was hooked. I don’t know if I’m ready for those kinds of feelings. I’m not an intense kind of guy, and yet one look at her and something punched me in the gut, and I still haven’t caught my breath.”
Carter combed a hand through his beard. “Are we talking love at first sight here?”
Donovan shook his head. “Man, I don’t know what it is. It was just like ‘there you are.’ Like I was waiting for her or something.”
“And that makes you avoid her at all costs?”
Donovan shrugged, wiping his hands on his pants. “Like I said, she scares the shit out of me. If I ask her out, I feel like that puts me directly on the marriage-kid train.”
“Shif!” Jonathan said cheerfully as he began to hammer the carpet into place, the police bear tucked under his arm.
“Look, one punch in the gut isn’t going to force you down the aisle,” Carter argued. “Get to know her. Otherwise you’re just oozing all this sexual tension and eventually the B.C. will take aim.”
Donovan shook his head. “Uh-uh. I told them if they ever make a move in my direction, I’m arresting them all for assaulting an officer.”
“They’ve gotten a lot sneakier in their ways. You won’t even see it coming,” Carter predicted. “It’s better to jump in of your own free will and see what happens.”
Jonathan appeared at Donovan’s chair, his little arms waving in the universal signal for up.
Donovan picked him up and settled him on his lap.
“Peeza, peez!” Jonathan said, clapping his hands together.
“See? The kid knows what he wants, and he goes out and gets it,” Carter said ripping a few bite-sized pieces off a slice and putting them in front of Jonathan. “So, go find out if Eva’s what you want.”
CHAPTER FIVE
It was after seven, and the sun had set by the time Donovan left the station with his paperwork mostly complete and feeling thankful that no new crises had erupted. His parents didn’t answer his call, so he found himself steering his cruiser toward Pierce Acres. Phoebe Pierce—Merill now—had been tight with his parents. Maybe she’d remember something about this planet bullshit.
He was just crossing his t’s and dotting his i’s, Donovan assured himself. Being thorough enough to investigate threats, no matter how farfetched they seemed, was part of the job.
He turned onto the dirt and gravel lane of the farm where he’d spent as much time as a kid as his own home. He waved to Summer and Gia who were juggling kids and three dogs on their way out of the little red barn that served as headquarters for their online magazine.
He spared Gia an extra glance in the review mirror. Though the family resemblance was strong and the looks striking among the sisters, neither Gia nor Emma had ever stirred him the way Eva had.
He’d spent the better part of a year wondering if—sometimes hoping—that pull would go away. But Carter was right. He was going to have to make a decision one way or another. He followed the drive over a short crest and to the west. He could see the lights of Phoebe and Franklin’s house ahead.
He drummed his fingers against the wheel when he eased in next to the dark blue Mini Cooper. If Eva’s flashy little ride was here, odds were the woman was as well. He thought about her goodbye and grinned. She’d been embarrassed. He’d been turned on. He wasn’t sure if the next time he saw her he wanted it to be with her parents present. He debated for another thirty seconds and released his seatbelt.
Hazel and Michael Cardona didn’t raise him to run scared from anything. Not even a tiny redhead with bewitching eyes… and an incredible body.
His knock on the front door was met with frantic barking and the skittering of dog paws on hardwood. “I’ll get it!” He heard the call from the back of the house and knew before she opened the door who it would be.
“Oh!” Eva stared up at him, her mouth gaping open. A snot-nosed pug shoved its flat face out the door and romped over to his feet to sniff him.
“Hi,” he said to Eva, looping his thumbs into his pockets and letting Mr. Snuffles get a good whiff of cop shoes. “Are your parents home?”
“I’m having flashbacks to high school,” Eva breathed, her eyes wide. “Tell me this isn’t about my senior class prank.” The way she shoved a bare foot behind the door made him think she was considering slamming it in his face if the answer was yes.
He laughed. “That’s not at the top of my list, and neither is arresting Phoebe or Franklin. Just have some questions.”
“In that case, come on in.” She opened the door with a flourish, and when he stepped into the foyer’s light, he spotted the bruise. He took her chin in his hand and held her face to the light. “Doesn’t look too bad,” he commented.
Eva wrinkled her nose. “You should see the other guy.”
“Don’t tell me your landlord is going to make me arrest you for abuse of a kitchen.”
“Who is it, Eva?” Phoebe called from the back of the house.
“The cops,” Eva yelled over her shoulder. She grinned up at him, and his b
lood stirred. Bewitched and bewildered. That was his current status.
“You said you didn’t have anything to do with the fire,” Franklin yelled over the blender.
“Very funny!” Eva yelled back. “Come on back,” Eva told Donovan, gesturing over her shoulder. “You’re just in time for dinner.”
He followed her and the sway of those hips as she padded barefoot down the hallway. She wore slim black pants that accented all the right curves. Her oversized denim shirt was tucked into the front, and the sleeves were rolled up. Her hair was up in a riotous ponytail of strawberry blonde curls that begged for him to fist his hands in them.
“Donovan!” Phoebe greeted him as if he was one of her sons with a kiss on the cheek and a studious look. Her short brown hair was streaked with silver. But it didn’t make her look old. She’d never be old in his eyes. She peered at him over her wire rimmed glasses. “Tell me you’re off duty and you can stay for dinner.”
He thought about the two slices of pizza he’d gotten out of Carter and then about the cold cuts sitting in his fridge. The air in the main living space smelled of something delicious and Italian, and his stomach pleaded with him.
“If it’s no trouble.”
“I made enough for a family of ten,” Franklin promised from the stove. He was a burly man with silver hair and a warm, ever-present smile. With the onset of fall, he’d traded in his Hawaiian shirts for colorful checkered long sleeve Oxfords.
“Here,” Phoebe shoved bowls into his hands and then pointed Eva to the plates on the counter. “You two set. We’ll finish up in here. Dinner in five. And Eva, get our sheriff here a drink, please.”
Phoebe had practically run Donovan’s campaign for town sheriff. And she’d been just as thrilled, just as proud as his own mother, when he’d won in a landslide. Whenever he got to missing his own parents, who’d moved to New Mexico a few years ago, he’d visit Phoebe. He was always welcome in her home, at her table. And there he could always find the family he needed.
Donovan followed Eva around the table, placing a bowl on each plate she lay down.
She stopped short at the head of the farmhouse table, and he bumped into her. She turned slowly to face him, and Donovan felt his breath catch. He gritted his teeth, careful not to show any outward reaction. If this was a crush, he never wanted to feel the full-blown thing. He could barely function around her as it was.
“What would you like to drink? Beer or wine?”
“How about wine?” he decided, feeling festive.
“Red or white?” she asked, her lips curving up at him. She was too close. He liked it too much.
“Surprise me,” he said, his voice low and husky as if they were sharing secrets. His fingers twitched at his side wanting to reach out to her. To touch that slim, ivory neck.
When Eva stepped away, he could breathe again.
Franklin lugged a huge pot to the table and settled it on an owl shaped trivet. “Italian wedding soup,” he announced.
Phoebe appeared behind him with a basket of bread in one hand and a large wooden salad bowl in the other. “Fresh garlic bread and beet and arugula salad,” she said, putting them down on the table.
Eva appeared with two glasses of red wine and handed one to Donovan. He didn’t think it was his imagination that her fingers lingered under his for just a second too long.
They took their seats, Phoebe pointing him to the seat on Eva’s left, and the food dishing and passing commenced. If dinner was half as good as it smelled, Donovan decided he was going to owe Franklin and Phoebe a nice bottle of wine. Franklin owned and operated Villa Harvest, Blue Moon’s Italian restaurant. The man knew his way around a kitchen, that was for sure, Donovan decided, spooning up another bit of hot, flavorful soup.
“Now that you’re here, Donovan, you can help us interrogate Eva on how she got that black eye,” Phoebe said, nodding at her stepdaughter. “She’s being awfully cagey.”
“Something about a kitchen accident,” Franklin said. “Sounds suspicious to me.”
Eva pointed a finger in Donovan’s face. “You, keep quiet. You’re bound by sheriff-citizen confidentiality.”
He laughed. “That’s definitely not a thing.”
She screwed up her nose and frowned at him. “Fine. How about this?” Eva took his hand in hers and stared up at him, her green eyes wide and guileless. “Donovan, are you my friend?” she breathed each word as if she were imparting a secret.
He nodded, heart in his throat. Damn if that woman didn’t get his blood flowing from one wide-eyed look.
“Good,” she said brightly. “Because friends don’t snitch!”
Vixen. Eva Merill was a sneaky, sexy, manipulative…
“Donovan was with you when it happened? Did you walk into a glass door during the fire?” Franklin asked.
Donovan snorted. “No, but that does sound like something Eva might do.”
“Not nice, Cardona.” Eva glared at him. She sniffed, haughty as a queen. “I clearly need better foundation if you can still see it. It’s tiny. Practically invisible. Phoebe, what kind of cover-up do you use? I think I’m ready to graduate from drugstore makeup.”
The conversation shifted from bruises and makeup and then on to Franklin’s fall specials at the restaurant. Donovan realized Eva had successfully maneuvered interest away from her face and onto other topics without anyone but him catching on.
The woman had depths, devious ones.
“So, what brings you out our way, Donovan?” Franklin asked. “Nothing to do with the fire, I hope?” He shot his daughter a look.
Donovan shook his head. “No, that was a pretty straightforward investigation. Accidental and—believe it or not—not caused by Eva.” Phoebe and Franklin laughed while Eva stuck her tongue out at him.
He shouldn’t have gone rock hard at that, but he did anyway. He cleared his throat, tried to focus.
“Actually, it was something Minnie mentioned. We had a lot of strange calls today, and she mentioned something about some kind of planetary crossing?”
Phoebe dropped her spoon in her bowl, drawing Donovan’s attention. “Are you sure that’s what she said?” Phoebe asked before taking a gulp of wine.
He nodded, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. “She said it happened back in the eighties. Something about the whole town going nuts.”
“And they never recovered?” Eva asked with a wink.
Phoebe ripped off a piece of bread and threw it in her stepdaughter’s direction. “Very funny.” She grinned at her step daughter.
“I don’t remember Mom ever talking about it, and she didn’t answer my call today. I thought maybe you’d remember something about it,” Donovan continued, dipping a piece of crusty bread into the soup.
It was Phoebe’s turn to clear her throat. “Those were very dark days for Blue Moon,” she began. “It was like the full moon lasted an entire month. People were just going crazy.”
“Wait! Are you serious?” Eva interrupted, picking up her wine glass.
“Deadly serious.” Phoebe nodded. “Hazel didn’t sleep for the entire month. People were doing things so out of character. Vegetarians were stealing cold cuts from the butcher. Couples who had been cohabitating for decades were suddenly deciding they needed to get married and then filing for divorce the next day. Grown men were pulling fire alarms in the movie theater and the grocery store. There were more than twenty arrests for public nudity.”
Donovan felt it, that cloud of dread as it grew over his head. “What caused it?”
“No one was ever sure. Charisma Champion, you know her?”
“Sure. I had her for American history and wool dying in high school,” Donovan nodded.
Eva sputtered in her wine glass and clamped a napkin over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said. “Wool dying got me.”
Mr. Snuffles let out a loud snore from under the table.
“Well, she’s also an astrology hobbyist,” Phoebe
continued. “And I think she had a theory about something with a planet traveling through some system and wreaking havoc.”
Donovan reached for his wine. No sheriff wanted to hear that there was a potential town-wide meltdown in the works.
“Let’s hope that, this time around, a theory is just a theory.”
CHAPTER SIX
Eva could barely concentrate on the bowl of heaven in front of her. Dinner—and the man next to her—demanded her full attention. The idea that some astrological apocalypse could be heading for town? It was fascinating like finding out that witches or vampires were real. And speaking of fascinating, there was Donovan Cardona. Still in uniform, still sexy as hell. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was about him that was so appealing. Sure, he was gorgeous. And manly. And had the whole do-right thing going on. But there was something else. Something steady and reliable and so solidly good about him.
And when she spelled it out like that, it didn’t sound sexy, she thought, mentally editing her description of him. Eva didn’t like it when things couldn’t be defined by words.
Donovan’s knee brushed hers under the table and derailed her thoughts. He fumbled his wine glass and shot her a heated look that Phoebe and Franklin missed.
Her heart tripped, and Eva straightened in her chair. There was no way in hell it was possible. There wasn’t a shred of possibility that Sheriff Sexy was attracted to her. Granted, he’d seen her boobs, and they were pretty fantastic. But the rest of the package? She was a walking, falling down disaster. Donovan would go for someone tall and lithe and infinitely graceful. Like Taneisha, the marathon-running model of sweetness and perfection that Eva wanted to hate but couldn’t.
God, they would have beautiful children.
“Pathetic,” Eva muttered under her breath. Even in her own fantasies she was marrying off her heartthrob to other people.
“What’s pathetic?” Donovan asked quietly, leaning in.