by T. M. Cromer
“Earth to Summer.”
She scowled and grabbed a muffin from the basket on the light stone countertop.
“She has it bad,” Spring teased.
“Has what bad?” Cooper’s voice startled all three women, but only Summer screamed and fumbled her muffin.
He laughed at her black look. “I knocked, but when no one answered, I let myself in. The coffeemaker at the house has given up the ghost.” He raised his empty travel mug. “I was hoping to steal a cup.”
Summer could feel his amused gaze as she scooped up the blueberry muffin from the floor. “Help yourself,” she offered with a wave of her hand.
She hadn’t thought through the logistics of him, her, and two others in the small kitchen.
As he inched by her, his hand hooked her hip. Full body contact ensued, his front to her back.
A strangled cry escaped her.
“Sorry,” he murmured in her ear. “Close quarters.”
Not that close, but she didn’t intend to complain if he took advantage. “Mmhmm. No worries.”
Maybe when he was ready to exit, she could turn around and have him rub her front.
Poised to throw the muffin in the garbage, Summer let out an odd little chirp when Coop grabbed her hand.
“What are you doing? That’s a perfectly good muffin,” he said.
“It hit the floor.”
“Haven’t you heard of the five second rule?”
“Okay, that’s just gross, and it was more like twenty seconds.”
A delighted grin flashed, as if her response entertained him, and he leaned in to take a bite of the muffin.
“Something is wrong with you,” Summer charged.
“’Scuse us, lovebirds, but you’re blocking the entrance,” Spring said and gave Coop’s back a light shove.
Instead of moving out into the hall to allow her sister to pass, he stepped in closer to Summer. Once again, full contact ensued.
Exactly what you wished for, the little voice in her head crowed.
This close, she smelled the subtle scent of his body wash and whatever laundry soap he used. Citrus with a hint of fresh spring along with something more, some elusive scent she couldn’t place, hijacked her senses. Nose to his chest, she closed her eyes and sniffed. She nearly groaned her pleasure.
Whatever pheromones he had going on, he should bottle. He’d make a killing.
The quiet in the room registered.
Her cheeks burned as she wondered how long they’d been standing alone.
“I think you can back up now.” She didn’t dare shove him away. If she touched him, she might not let go.
“I could. But I don’t necessarily want to.” His husky voice turned her on as nothing had before.
Stomach muscles clenched, and the tops of her thighs tingled. “I have to get to the barn, and you’ll be late for work.”
“Today’s my day off.”
The entire time he was in the kitchen, she’d avoided his gaze, certain he’d understood the embarrassing comment when he’d first entered was due mainly because of her feelings for him. Inch by inch, she raised her eyes from where she’d focused on his chest.
Morning stubble and lids at half-mast gave him a sexy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look.
Her finger itched to tousle his dark-blond hair to complete the picture her mind’s eye had created.
“If you keep looking at me that way, we won’t get to the barn at all,” he told her.
She snapped out of the sexual haze she was caught in and edged from between him and the counter. “The rescue will always come first.”
His brows met, and his eyes narrowed. Had he picked up on what she was trying to say? It was important he understood.
“I’ll always put the welfare of those animals above everything else, Coop.”
Slowly, he nodded, the frown never leaving his face. “Let me grab my coffee, and I’ll meet you out there.”
Without a backward glance, she escaped. The entire walk to the barn she berated herself for dropping her guard. For as much as he seemed to have changed, she couldn’t be positive Cooper’s motives were pure. She couldn’t be sure of his motives at all.
What did he want? Was it to sleep with her? Was it to ease her plight and help with the labor? Or was it more sinister? He could be looking for a weakness. That fit with his personality much more than his sudden change of heart.
She hated herself for doubting him, but how could she not? He went from despising and avoiding her to kissing her and spending every morning helping. It didn’t add up.
Tonight, she’d see if her sisters could assist her. Perhaps they could scry and discover his true intentions. Certainly, it wouldn’t be to just spy on him. Although, she wouldn’t be opposed to seeing him in the shower the way Winnie had Zane back in high school.
Yeah, she definitely needed to perfect Granny Thorne’s cloaking spell.
Coop reached for his wallet to pay for his groceries. He patted his back pocket. First the left, then the right. Nothing. Shoving aside the panicky feeling, he checked the basket to see if maybe he’d thrown it in with his phone and keys. Nothing.
Angel, the young cashier, masticated her gum with the bored impatience only a teenager managed to perfect.
“I could’ve sworn I had it,” he hedged, doing a recheck of his pockets as if the wallet would mysteriously be back in place.
With a roll of her eyes, Angel popped her gum.
Someone coughed in the long line that had formed behind him.
Sweat beaded his brow. For God’s sake, this was ridiculous. He was a grown man, the sheriff of this town, and he was the one feeling criminal.
Coop cleared his throat, apologized to his fellow grocery shoppers, and told Angel he needed to run to his cruiser.
A shrug was her answer, as if she didn’t care one way or another. She probably didn’t.
The detailed check of his cruiser turned up nothing.
As he jogged back to the store, he mentally ran through the day’s events. The only place he’d been was Summer’s this morning for his standard stall-cleaning duties.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I seemed to have misplaced my wallet. Can we put this stuff to the side, and I’ll be back for it?” he asked.
“I’ve got this.”
Coop turned to see Keaton grinning behind him. Relief flooded him. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what could’ve happened to my wallet. I must’ve dropped it at Summer’s.”
“Summer Thorne?” A female voice questioned.
He faced a tiny, hunched-back, lavender-haired woman who stood third in line. Damned fine hearing for the elderly.
“Uh, yeah.”
Amusement lit the woman’s rheumy purple eyes—oddly, the same light color as her dyed hair. “If she still has old Sampson, that’s probably where your wallet is.”
“Who’s old Sampson?”
“Beatrice Wilson’s cat.”
“Beatrice Wilson? Wasn’t she the one arrested for stealing thousands of dollars in jewelry and wallets?” Keaton asked, not bothering to keep the laughter from his face. “Are you saying Summer Thorne took in the kleptomaniac cats after Beatrice went to jail?”
“That’s what I’m saying, Mayor.” She grinned and her false teeth shifted forward. With a short, gnarled finger, she shoved them back in place, chomped down twice, and said, “Old Beatrice trained close to eighty-five cats to steal from her neighbors. She made off with over ten thousand in goods. Damn fool woman’s mistake was hoarding the spoils instead of getting rid of the evidence.”
The purple hair needed to be under surveillance. She was way too wily and had a criminal bend to her thinking.
“You watch that Summer Thorne and her Weird Season Sisters, Sheriff. They’re up to no good. Bad business goes on up at that Thorne place,” the woman warned.
Others in line nodded their heads in agreement.
His heart dropped into his stomach.
Perhaps the Thornes leaving town would be
for the best. The Leiper’s Fork citizens didn’t hold them in the highest esteem.
Angrily, he scooped up his bags. “Just pay for the damned groceries, Keaton, and let’s go.”
As they strode to the cruiser, Keaton asked, “What has you so upset, C.C.? I suspect I know, but humor me.”
“Where do these people get off?” Coop swept his arm to encompass the store. “She takes in all their castoffs, and yet they treat her like she’s beneath them. Like a damned outsider or leper. What the fuck?”
Heads turned in their direction.
“Not here, C.C.”
“If not here, then where, Keaton? Huh?”
Gawkers moved closer. The sheriff and the mayor in a heated discussion at the local grocery store parking lot was newsworthy stuff.
Coop’s expression turned feral. “Move along or I’ll arrest your ass,” he barked at a particularly bold pedestrian. When the man paled and scurried off to find his truck, Coop grunted his irritation.
“Cooper.”
Keaton rarely called him by his full name, only when he had a point to make.
“What?” Coop snapped.
“If the people of this town are suspicious of the Thornes, maybe they have good reason.”
The seriousness and warning in his brother’s tone couldn’t be ignored.
“What do you know?”
Keaton opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. With a frown, he tried again. After a third attempt, he shook his head. “Never mind. But you’d do well to stay away from Summer and her sisters.”
Coop watched as Keaton stalked away. The jerky movements as he climbed into his vehicle spoke of agitation. What did Keaton have to be upset about? Was his irritation leftover from Autumn? Did it taint how he saw all the sisters? Wasn’t his brother the one who tried to get Coop to take it easy on Summer?
As Coop swung open the door to his cruiser, he noticed the purple-haired woman standing ten feet away. Her gleeful expression sparked a frisson of unease.
Whatever she and Keaton knew, Coop intended to discover.
9
Coop knocked on the massive mahogany and iron door of Thorne Manor. He’d been standing on their porch for about five minutes with no response.
A side glance showed Summer’s old white Dodge van in the drive. Winnie’s sporty Altima was parked in front of the truck. Only Spring’s florist van was missing, but that wasn’t unusual this time of day since she was probably out making deliveries.
Perhaps Summer and Winnie were helping.
Once again, he knocked, this time harder than the last. No answer.
“Summer?” he called.
A twist of the handle proved the door unlocked.
“Summer?”
The sound of his voice echoed around the foyer.
He shouldn’t be here, intruding on their private space. However, Coop couldn’t get Keaton’s anxious expression out of his head. His brother had been trying hard to tell him something important, or at least important to him.
The image of the lavender-haired older woman with the knowing expression also bothered him. It was as if he’d played into her hands by coming here. But what was her ultimate goal?
As he passed through the foyer, a black square on the entry table caught his attention. His wallet.
A boom, followed by a loud thump shook the house. The crystals in the overhead chandelier tinkled together, and plaster dust from the ceiling floated down around him.
“Summer!” Coop took the stairs two at a time. “Summer!”
She appeared at the top of the second landing, flushed and out of breath, stopping him in his tracks.
“Coop!” She cast her gaze over her shoulder and a look of guilt flitted across her face. “I… uh, what are you doing here?”
She had another man here with her.
The deep-seated suspicion socked him right in the nads. He found it difficult to catch his breath, and it wasn’t from running up the stairs. Perhaps this sense of betrayal he felt was what she’d experienced the night he kissed Rosie.
“What’s going on, Summer? Who’s here?” he demanded although he had no right.
She must’ve thought so too because she frowned and reared back as if surprised by his harshness.
“Only me and Winnie.”
“Why do you look…?” What? Excited? Aroused? Like she’d been exerting herself in ways he wished she’d exert herself with him? “Uh, flushed. Why do you look flushed?”
She laughed and waved a hand. “Winnie and I were moving furniture around. What are you doing here? Did you find your wallet?”
His wallet. The reason he’d come back today. “Yes, on the entry table.”
“You must’ve dropped it in the barn. I found one of the cats playing with it.”
She’s lying.
He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Perhaps it was the years interrogating criminals, but he’d developed an instinct for when he was being lied to—as he was now.
“One of Beatrice Wilson’s trained criminal cats?” he asked tightly.
She remained quiet, but the guilt clouding her features told him all he needed to know.
“If I got a warrant, will I find the wallets of other visitors, Summer?”
The happy light left her eyes, and she slowly shook her head. Her disappointment obvious. “Feel free to come back with your warrant, Sheriff. Until that time, get out of my house.”
She pivoted on the landing to head back the way she’d come, clearly a dismissal.
Coop panicked at the idea of her walking away and made a grab for her.
Summer avoided his touch and fisted her hand.
And like the incident with Morty in the barn, he was frozen in place.
The satisfied half-smile she sported had the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. He struggled against the invisible hold. He strained and surged forward, not gaining an inch.
Then she opened her fist and spread her fingers wide.
It was as if a large hand shoved him, and he slammed into the wall behind him.
A small wood-framed picture tumbled to the floor.
Summer gasped and horrified tears filled her eyes. “Papa’s Monet! It’s ruined.”
Ignoring the throbbing of his head and spine, Coop surged forward to comfort.
Summer turned feral. “Don’t you touch me. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve made me do?”
Due to the ringing in his head, he couldn’t be positive, but he’d have sworn she muttered words like goddess and shall harm none. What any of her mumbling meant was anyone’s guess.
The unfairness of her accusation stuck in his craw. “How is any of this my fault?” he demanded.
“You came here and made me believe you’d changed. That you were open-minded and fair. But you’re no different than any other self-righteous asshat in this damned town.” She sneezed.
A scurrying sounded overhead, and she waved her arm. “I’m fine,” she said to someone outside his view.
He craned his neck to see who she’d spoken to.
Summer side-stepped and blocked his view. “I think it’s best you leave and not come back unless it’s official business, Sheriff.”
Coop studied her closed face. What he was looking for, God only knew. Perhaps a softening, an indication she didn’t want him to go.
For once, her eyes were no longer the sparkling blue he remembered. Instead they appeared to be a darker hue. It had to be a trick of the light. No one’s eyes could change color. But the dull eyes had his stomach in knots.
“There’s still the matter of the cats, Summer.”
“There’s always the matter of some animal or another, isn’t there?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve retrained and found homes for all but ten. Once those are free of their larcenous ways, I’ll find forever homes for them as well. Nothing sinister is going on here, Coop. But then I don’t expect you to believe me.”
In this, he did. “I�
�m sorry.”
“Yeah, well. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“I can hel—”
His offer was cut short.
“I don’t want your help. If I had my way, I’d never have to see you ever again, Sheriff.”
After Coop drove away, Summer dropped to the bottom porch step.
How had she ever thought she could develop a relationship with him?
He’d forever be suspicious of her and her family.
Everyone always was.
They were the Weird Season Sisters. The town shunned them unless they wanted something specific; Winnie’s lotions, Spring’s prize flowers, or Summer to re-home an unwanted pet.
Autumn had been the smart one. She’d seen this cursed little town for what it was and gotten the hell out.
But Summer, always the optimist, believed in the general goodness of people, despite what she’d witnessed in her twenty-eight years. Little by little, her optimism was disappearing. With each incident, each ugly scene perpetuated by some vindictive person, her world view became a little smaller. A little more clouded by others’ ugly behavior.
She absently rubbed the spot over her heart.
Cooper’s mistrust stung the worst. He’d arrived looking for a fight today.
She could tell in the way he demanded to know who else was in the house, then again when he’d practically accused her of housing the cats so they could steal visitors’ wallets.
Oh, she could’ve told the truth, but mentioning that she and Winnie had attempted to teleport an antique vanity to where Autumn now lived in Maine would surely have freaked Coop right the fuck out.
“What has you troubled, dear?”
The tiny lavender-haired woman appearing on the porch swing almost had Summer wetting her pants. Not many people snuck up on her, but GiGi Gillespie tended to be sneakier than most.
“You really should warn people, you know,” Summer snapped. “It isn’t polite to spy.”
The elderly woman smiled, revealing a set of oversized dentures.
As she looked on, Summer noticed they shifted about in her mouth. “A dab or two of Fixodent wouldn’t be remiss if you are going to use that disguise, Aunt G.”