He holds a little girl about five years old. Her long dark hair is pulled into a pretty French braid. She snuggles into his neck while he rubs her back. And the chick standing next to him is drop-dead gorgeous. Her perfect brown hair falls to her shoulders with just the right amount of curl framing her pale skin and light-green eyes.
Well, I feel like a doofus for crushing on a guy that’s married and has a kid. I’m so glad I didn’t say anything to embarrass myself yesterday. All those hot-cop notions I was having are neatly tucked away in my brain, and no one has to ever know about them, except God. Dear God, I promise I didn’t know.
The congregation starts up with the second stanza. “I’ve got my new friend here, and she’s here to stay.”
Oh, dear Lord, please let the devil come and take me to hell. It has got to be better than this. This song goes on for five more stanzas until I have the chance to shake everyone’s hand. They express how happy they are to see me. This is worse than any drunken state I have ever been in. And a tall shot of whiskey sure sounds good right now.
The pretty lady standing next to Gunnar reaches out to take my hand. She leans in and says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Faith. I’d love to have you over sometime soon. Okay?” She draws out her last word long enough for the congregation to start another verse.
Me? At your house? So I can drool over your husband? Not the best idea. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
The little girl grins, and I give her a quick finger wave. Fitting in, Granny.
“Mornin’,” Gunnar says. His voice rumbles over me and makes me tingle in parts I shouldn’t talk about in church. He shifts the little girl to his left arm and holds out his right hand for me to take. Awkward.
I smile as I quickly shake his hand, hoping to God that I don’t have any tingly feelings for a married man while in church. I yank my hand back and continue my journey down the aisle toward my seat in the back. Thank God that’s over. Before I can collapse into my pew, the little girl waves me over. I refuse her offer. She does it again and whispers something in Gunnar’s ear. He snaps his head around and shrugs. The cheesy grin on her face matches her dad’s, even the little dimple on her cheek. She motions again for me to join them, so while the choir director leads us in “When the Roll is Called Up Yonder,” I slide in next to them. She hops down from her dad’s arms and stands between us, holding both our hands. The lady’s eyebrow quirks up, but then her lips curve upward.
The little girl tugs on my arm for me to lean down. She whispers in my ear, “I’m Lily.”
“Nice to meet you, Lily.”
I realize I have given Gunnar a perfect view down the front of my dress. Even when I cover myself with my hand, his eyes don’t dart away. They linger, and with the sluggish speed of the pastor’s prayer, they slide up to my face, hesitating on my lips, then locking on to my eyes. There go the tingly girly parts again. No point in calling the roll in heaven because I’m going straight to hell. I’m the biggest chowder head for crushing on a married man.
As soon as the pastor finishes the closing prayer, I’m going straight to Granny’s apartment to make a list of items I need in order to get ready for my first day running her shop. Thank goodness Granny left me well stocked with ingredients. If I’m going to fulfill her terms, I need to stay away from married men, especially if they are as hot as a fresh slice of pizza.
CHAPTER SIX
Gunnar
I lean back against my squad car, which I conveniently parked next to Andie’s sweet ride. I am walking down a road I shouldn’t venture down. She’s on a mission, and it is to sell the store and leave by the end of summer. She’s not going to stick around, no matter how attracted I am to her, no matter how much I want to keep the town from falling apart. She’s the last chance this town has before downtown falls to the big box stores, but she can’t know that. She’s going to do what she wants to do, and I can’t stop her.
But I didn’t expect to feel this way. I mean, I knew Miss Gracie’s granddaughter would be about my age, but I didn’t expect someone like Andie. She’s not from around here, so I assumed she would be easy to hate and easy to resist. Tinsley warned me she would steal my heart, but I figured I was immune since I disposed of mine a long time ago.
Even though she seems to have a lot of baggage that she apparently hides with a bottle and a pretty face, I knew she wasn’t a bad person after spending a few minutes with her. In fact, she seems really sweet and misunderstood. Her crystal-blue eyes show me an honest and sincere person. More than that, she makes my heart sputter. It has been a long time since I’ve felt anything. The last time was, well, too long ago, and it didn’t end well. So I don’t know why I am torturing myself. God only knows.
Lily bounces down the stairs and takes her mother by the hand as they maneuver through the parking lot. Once they are safely to their car, I turn my attention back to that tight little package. Andie can’t get away from the steps before she’s bombarded by the welcome committee, led by the Jackson sisters, Jennifer and Sarah. She peels her hand away from one person’s hand only to get caught by another churchgoer. She does all this with a tentative grin as she slides a strand of hair behind her ear for the tenth time. Finally, Andie is able to pry her hand away from the pastor’s and maneuver through a sea of old ladies from church.
Miss Jennifer stumbles over the curb, and before I can take one step toward her to help, Andie grabs her by the arm to steady her.
Miss Jennifer gives Andie a pat on the cheek. “Sooo, you’re Andie, Miss Mary Grace’s granddaughter.” Her sister, Sarah, takes the opportunity to nab Andie’s hand again.
Even though I’ve only known Andie for a day, it’s obvious to me that her smile is a painted-on fake.
“Yes, I am.” Andie starts to pull her hand away, but I know Sarah’s grip is as strong as an anaconda. Andie won’t be going anywhere until Sarah finishes devouring her. Jennifer’s always been the sweeter of the Jackson sisters. Word on the street is that the two Jackson sisters have taken it upon themselves to make sure Andie doesn’t comply with the terms of the will. They’ve always been the town’s gossip gals, but ever since they took a community education class on blogging, they’ve stepped up their rumor mill to include a blog about all the dirt in Smithville. Sometimes, I wonder if they should be employed at the police department. Other times, I wish their server would go down, especially when it involves one specific out-of-towner.
Miss Sarah confiscates Andie’s hand. “We’ve heard about you.”
“Nice things, I hope,” Andie says.
Sarah turns to Jennifer then says, “Well, Gracie said you were a souse.”
Andie finally has the strength to snatch her hand away. “Excuse me?”
“She means you like the sauce,” Jennifer whispers loud enough for all to hear. The woman holds her thumb up to her mouth to pantomime drinking. “That’s okay.”
Andie scans the parking lot until her eyes land on mine. I wave.
She mouths, “Help me.”
I motion with my head to keep moving through the shark-infested waters toward me, the ex-king of sharks.
“Well, I’m trying to behave. Isn’t that all God can ask of us?”
Two points for Andie. She race-walks my way, or to her car. I’m not sure which.
“If we can be of any help, you let us know,” Jennifer yells.
Andie waves to them over her shoulder.
“She means if you need help finding the good stuff, let us know,” Sarah says.
Andie rolls her eyes. I eyeball Sarah and Jennifer. They are already in a powwow to devise their next plan of attack. They want Andie’s money for the church so badly that they’ll take down anyone who stands in their way.
Regardless of what Andie plans to do with the money, she shouldn’t be blindsided by selfish old biddies. Although it would really be nice if she didn’t sell Miss Gracie’s shop... for the town’s sake, of course. But if I can show her Smithville isn’t such a bad place to live, maybe she won’t want to
leave. Stranger things have happened.
Even if Tinsley hadn’t asked me to keep an eye on her, I would be doing it, anyway. There’s something about her that makes me want to go the extra mile for her, as if she needs someone to protect her from the world and from herself.
She stops in front of me, and a scowl replaces that easy grin of hers. She crosses her arms over her chest and stands with a wide stance.
“Are you impersonating an officer, Miss Carson?”
“Trying to but failing. I can honestly say I didn’t recognize you without your uniform on.” Her eyes get big, and a flush runs across her face. “I mean, without regular clothes on. I mean, you look nice all dressed up.”
Her awkwardness is so cute. “You look nice... without regular clothes on too.”
Hoo boy, my thoughts head into territory not fit for Sunday school. Down, boy.
She surveys her sundress, which shows off nice deltoids. Hmm. I like a girl that doesn’t mind slinging a little iron. Her toes peek out of her sandals as she moves up and down on the balls of her feet. There go those sexy calf muscles flexing again. Have mercy. And even when she’s wearing heels, the top of her head doesn’t come up past my chest.
“I can honestly say I didn’t recognize you without your groupies singing around you.”
She places her hands on her hips. Her mouth tips up on one side as though she’s resisting the urge to smile. “Not funny. Actually, it was all okay until they started on the verse about the devil sitting on a tack.”
I laugh out loud, covering my face. “At least they didn’t break out into a chorus of ‘Kumbaya.’ That could go on forever.” I don’t mind it, but it can be a turn-off for someone who isn’t used to it.
She peers around. “Shhh, don’t give them any ideas.”
“They like to make up verses to that one too.”
Andie singsongs, “Someone’s goin’ crazy, Lord. Please take me. Oh Lord, please take me.”
I clap. She bows, flashing me a bit of cleavage. She presses her hands over her chest, realizing the view she gave me. Cute and modest, not a bad combination.
“Not bad. Maybe next week, they’ll let you sing in the choir.”
She puts her hands up, palms toward me. “That is not in the agreement. I have enough to handle with ‘the sisters.’”
“Oh, don’t let them get under your skin.”
She turns around to see the sisters still in the parking lot, scheming. “Who, them?” she asks, giving them a beauty-queen wave.
They scamper away like roaches when the light comes on.
“You do know they’ll do whatever they can to get to that money of yours. Don’t underestimate their skills.” I probably should tell her about their mad blogging skills, but I don’t want her to dislike Smithville because of something that might not even happen.
She nods and gives me a slight shrug. “I guess I’d do the same in their situation. But I’m really going to do my best to make everyone proud.”
“Hungry?” I ask, ready for a change in subject.
A crinkle forms between her eyes. “Yeah, but what about your little girl?”
“Huh? Oh, Lily. She’s at home with her mom.”
I catch her quick look-see toward my hands.
“And they’re cool with you taking me to lunch?”
I shrug. “I guess so. I don’t ask their permission.”
Her mouth flies open. “Wow. This town is more progressive than I thought. But it bothers me.”
“It’s only food. Everyone has to eat.”
She mumbles something under her breath then asks, “So, where do you go for food around here? I’m not in the mood for the Tastee Freeze.”
I wag my head. It would be funny if there weren’t a smidgen of truth to that.
“Let’s see. We have two restaurants open on Sunday.” I tap my finger to my chin. “BJ’s, and then there’s Shoney’s. Personally, I’d go to BJ’s. It’s the best food around.”
Her eyes get huge, and she scans the parking lot. She whispers, “Did you say... BJ’s?
“Affirmative.”
“As in...”
I can’t bite my grin away. “Why, Miss Andie, I do believe you have a dirty mind.”
She swats me on the arm. “You set me up for that.” She motions with her head toward my police car. “Do I have to ride in the back seat like a common criminal?”
She is so cute. Although after my conversations with Tinsley, I have a sneaking suspicion she’s had more than a few rides in the back seat of a squad car. “No, you can ride in the front seat with me.”
Her face lights up. “Can I drive?”
“Negative.”
Andie walks over to the passenger’s side. I open the door for her. She turns around abruptly, and I don’t have a chance to stop. I bump into her and take a quick step back, already missing the contact.
“Can I play with your thingy?”
I stare at her like an idiot. She leans inside my squad car and touches the siren. It makes an obnoxious “whoop” sound, sending her scampering out of the car, bumping into me. This is beginning to be a habit with her. The stragglers from the parking lot all turn to stare at us, giving them fodder for the Jacksons’ blog, I’m sure.
“Uh, I was talking about the...”
“Negative, you cannot touch the siren.”
She gets in and scoots around on the seat. I shut her door and take a few deep breaths to try to regain my composure, which includes shifting the contents of my slacks while I walk around the car. I should have gone to my sister’s house to eat with her family like I usually do. But my niece insisted I take the new girl out to lunch.
This is really not the best idea. Not. At. All.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gunnar
I can’t help but stare as Andie pulls the skin off her fried chicken and plunks it onto her plate. She pats the chicken breast with a napkin to soak up the excess grease. It must be a Yankee thing.
Andie takes a gander over her shoulder for the third time. “Why is everyone staring at us?”
I turn around. They all jerk their heads to look at their plates, not wanting to make eye contact. No surprise why this would be intimidating to someone who hasn’t grown up in a small town.
“They don’t get out much. You’re an outsider.”
“Am I that scary?”
“That remains to be seen.”
She snarls and dips her fork into my mashed potatoes before I can stop her. To retaliate, I take a sip from her tea glass, causing her jaw to drop.
“And I thought you were a Southern gentleman.”
“Southern? Affirmative. Gentleman? Not so much.” If she only knew my recent history and how I treated women after Willow left me, she would never consider me a gentleman.
“Pfft.” She lifts her tea glass to take a sip but turns it around so she puts her lips where mine were. Her eyes twinkle. She clears her throat, and the flirty behavior is replaced with a more professional demeanor. “So, not many Yankees infiltrate Smithville?”
“Negative. Especially those that really hail from Boston, Tennessee.”
She smacks the table, making a roll tumble to the floor. The restaurant turns quiet as all the other patrons abandon their meals to listen to Andie’s outburst. “Tinsley’s a dead man.” Then she gasps, realizing what she just said. “It’s a metaphor. I would never tell an officer of the law my evil plans to off my friend.”
She takes a swig from her glass. I guess what’s good for the goose...
“What’s wrong with being from Tennessee?”
“Duh. I worked real hard to get over the dumb-Southern-blond stereotype, and right when I finally ditch the accent completely, I move here. After only two days, bam, it’s seepin’ back in.”
I chuckle. “Like ridin’ a bike.”
She bobs her head. “You see what I did there? I’m already dropping my Gs. Pretty soon, I’ll be ridin’ and chewin’ and huntin’ with all you guys.”
&nbs
p; “With all y’all.”
She points to me with her fork. “I’m not there yet.”
“We’ll see about that.” I wink at her. Shit. Stop flirting. It never ends well. I clear my throat. “Like you, most run away from this place when a better opportunity comes around.”
She shrugs and scoops another bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth. Through her stuffed face, she mumbles, “Ahh, I see. So why aren’t you running from it? Other than the obvious family ties.”
I take notice of all the nosy folks surrounding us. What she sees as intrusive, I see as welcoming. I like having people around me I know I can trust, that have my back when times get tough, even if they stick their noses into every detail of everyone’s life. They are also there in two shakes if one of us needs anything, like how my best friends were there when I almost imploded after getting dumped by the love of my life.
“I actually like it here.” I steal her biscuit. “I know that seems odd to you.”
She takes a stab at my hand with her fork. “Hey, you thief. Never a cop around when you need one.”
I belt out a laugh. I haven’t laughed that loud in years. In fact, I haven’t laughed or guffawed or let out a single chuckle for a very long time, but after only two days, this pint-sized Yankee from Tennessee has dragged that out of me. “I lived in the big city for a while.”
“Oh yeah?” She takes a long swig from her sweet tea. Yep, she’s already taking a shine to sweet tea.
I avoid answering by stuffing my face full of food again. Cassie, the waitress, fills our tea glasses.
“Thanks.”
Cassie smiles and walks to the next table.
“Chicago.”
Andie drops her fork. “Seriously?”
“Yep. Lived there for two years, working on my master’s degree.” That lie gets easier to tell the more I tell it. I don’t want the people that respect me to know I didn’t leave on the best of terms. That is one secret that has been kept from the gossip gals.
In a Jam Page 4