“Fairies,” muttered Sam Reno, shaking his head while he gestured toward his car.
Behind them, Emma’s porch light winked off, leaving a sense of moon-bathed quiet. “What, don’t you believe in that stuff?” she asked.
They’d moved down the lawn, toward Sam’s car. He must have cut his engine at some point, rolling the vehicle to a stop so he could sneak up on Emma and her trespasser with the utmost stealth.
You had to admire that kind of sneakiness, she thought. She would’ve done the same thing.
He hadn’t answered her flippant question, but this silence was killing her need to lighten the mood. So she continued.
“Understand, Sheriff? I’m talking about fairies, sprites, gremlins… You know gremlins are the worst. Downright mean suckers.”
More pressing subjects were obviously on his mind. “Trespassing isn’t looked on too kindly around here.”
That put Ashlyn in her place. “Okay, okay. So at the age of twenty-four, I should be doing more productive things, like sitting around in my baby dolls, popping chocolates and filing my nails. Yeah, that sounds more acceptable, more bourgeoisie. More Spencer-like.”
Night creatures serenaded them as they walked. She became very aware of her choppy breath, the feel of his large body tracking hers.
“What you did for Janey was real nice,” he said.
A sarcastic comeback tipped the edge of her tongue. Yeah, Emma fell all over herself thanking me for the trouble.
But she kept her peace, not wanting the sheriff to know how much the other woman’s judgmental first impression had hurt. Her unwillingness to imagine that Ashlyn could do anything decent was a slap in the face, leaving a mark as dark as her family’s reputation.
“Well, Sheriff Reno, I think you’ll find that the word ‘nice’ doesn’t exactly apply to me. Besides, I never admitted to doing anything back there.”
He stopped and looked at her, his eyes boring into her soul.
Was he a real cop? Sheriff Carson would’ve taken great umbrage at her blunt tone and shone the flashlight in her eyes in a misguided power trip. He would’ve hauled her into the jailhouse just for the fun of it.
She allowed her gaze to skim over Sheriff Reno’s hard body. Let’s see, he’d been two years ahead of Chad, her esteemed brother, in high school…maybe he was around thirty-three.
In her younger years she’d enjoyed making Sheriff Carson chase her around a little, just to get his goat. But this sheriff was in shape, would catch her in a minute flat. Not that being caught by him would be a horrible thing.
She grinned, her heart beating a little faster. He wasn’t bad for a thirty-three-year-old. As far as she could see, he had long legs, a flat stomach, arms and shoulders that filled his jacket to great effect…
Wouldn’t her father kill her if she got involved with Sam Reno, the foster brother of Nick Cassidy, the man who’d ruined her family?
The whole town had gotten into quite a snit when Nick had strutted right into Kane’s Crossing to give her once-wealthy father and brother, Chad, a taste of their own medicine. While both men had been in Europe, Nick had taken over the Spencers’ businesses, given them to the poor families in town, teaching her own family a lesson about compassion. Not that the Spencers had learned anything from the debacle. Even now, starch-collared lawyers were scrambling to get back their old properties, to place them back on their self-imposed throne.
And they’d been partly successful, too. The Spencers now had control of their toy factory again, a business they’d sneaked in and purchased with the cunning common to a snake.
She didn’t like to be thought of as a snake. Being a normal citizen in Kane’s Crossing would’ve suited Ashlyn just fine.
Sam Reno himself would probably end up with a girl from a normal family—one who reminded him of home-cooked dinners, hand-knit sweaters and white-lace kitchen aprons.
She had to admit though—he was tempting. Her stomach tingled just thinking about snuggling into his jacket, next to his chest, his arms enveloping her with strength.
Then again, Sam had his reasons for hating the Spencers. And he’d probably arrest her out of pure disdain if he could read her thoughts.
She tried to ignore the way his gaze combed over her, the way it slammed her heart against her ribcage. She started walking toward his car, sorry that she hadn’t taken her own vehicle out for a cruise tonight.
His voice surged from behind her. “Are you still in college?”
Ashlyn grinned at the small talk, tossing her words carelessly over her shoulder. “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Say, you’re just giving me a ride home, right? No arrests for trespassing or anything?”
She heard him shifting around his utility belt, adjusting his squawking walkie-talkie. For a minute she thought maybe he was going to cuff her.
“Please, Sheriff. I’ve got all the silver jewelry I’ll ever need.”
His long steps caught him up with her, and he stuck out his hand, car keys jangling. “We’re just going to my office.”
“You are arresting me?”
At this point, her golden-boy brother would’ve whipped out his business card, would’ve asked the new sheriff if he realized whom he was dealing with. But Ashlyn had never been held in the same esteem as her worshipped brother. Not by the town, thank goodness. And not by her parents.
Did Sam Reno want to make himself look good in front of an upstanding citizen like Emma Trainor? Well, he sure was doing a fine job of carrying out his sheriffly duties.
Sam Reno chuckled, even though she wasn’t sure what was so funny.
She said, “You’ve been living for this moment your whole life, haven’t you, Sheriff? You’ve just been chomping at the bit to arrest a Spencer.”
Darkness traveled his face, drawing down the edges of his lips, eclipsing the moonlight.
Ashlyn knew she’d opened her mouth one too many times.
Spencer.
The name ripped through his body with razor-blade agony. Seven years ago Sam’s father had died in the Spenco Toy Factory under mysterious circumstances. That death had killed his mother, too, from stress and heartbreak. And it’d changed Sam’s life. For the worse.
He watched Ashlyn Spencer, assessing the daughter of his worst enemy. She was surrounded by a bleak sky of looming clouds, a drab field of grass. The palette of his life. Even the road running past Emma Trainor’s home was empty and desolate.
But Ashlyn herself was a splash of colors—from her bright red sweater to the green and purple string of party beads dancing around her wrist.
Sam tried to feel unaffected as a cloud passed over the moon, almost as if the darkness wanted to hold on to her light for a minute more. She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaunty sweater bellying her obvious agitation.
He decided that the best course of action would be to ignore her comment about arresting a Spencer. “Why’re you still in Kane’s Crossing, Miss Spencer?”
“Why did you come back to Kane’s Crossing?” she asked, dodging his question.
He knew they were at a verbal stalemate, so he decided to get this business over and done with. After a moment of heavy silence, he reached out a hand to her. “Let’s