“Go away,” Faye said. “And take that evil drink with you.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to please the birthday girl. She said she wants a sensation.”
Kylie banged her fists to the table and frowned up at the man. “I’m talking about something extraordinary, you thick-skulled bozo. People expect you to seduce me and they expect me to fall under your spell. Boone knows Max and gang will show up twice a week to play pinochle and they know they’ll get two-fer beers, kick-butt chicken wings and a comfortable room temperature of sixty-eight. Faye expects me to drink beer because I always drink beer. I expect Faye to whine about her summer guests because she always whines about her summer guests. The majority of Eden will watch Into the Wild Saturday night and gossip about Spenser’s adventures most of Sunday. The Bixley will never expand to a multiplex theater and storefronts on Main Street will always look as they did in 1955, because progress moves at a snail’s pace in Eden! Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens!” Kylie vented, voice slurred and shrill. “You can set your watch by this town. We are boring people!”
“Ooo-kay.” Ashe backed away with the drink, his free hand raised in surrender.
But Kylie wasn’t done. “I bet I know what you’ve been talking about,” she said to Max and friends. “Omertà. That’s all you ever talk about because you’re obsessed. Never mind the mob series is off the air and you’re just now catching up compliments of DVD. That’s typical. Out of step with fashion and the arts. Yup. That’s us! Behind the times. Boring and passé.”
“I came in here for cards and beer,” shouted Max. “Not to be insulted!”
“That does it,” Boone called from behind the bar. “You’re cut off, Kylie.”
She jabbed a finger in his direction. “I knew you’d say that.”
“Predictable,” Faye grumbled.
“Exactly.”
“But wise.” Looking harried, the normally unflappable woman rooted in her oversize purse and pulled out her Orchard House souvenir key chain, available at the front desk for the bargain price of $3.99. “I’m taking you home,” Faye snapped. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
Fueled by years of frustration and three cosmopolitans, Kylie pushed out of the booth, her compact body trembling with Godzilla-like rage. “Well, get used to it. All of you! Because starting tomorrow there’s a new Kylie McGraw in town. I’m going to shake up paradise. Just you wait and see!” She made it halfway across the hardwood floor before her nylon footies slid out from under her and Kylie tumbled butt over heels.
J.J. whistled low. “Wasn’t much of a wait.”
Dazed, she squinted at the sea of faces spinning above her. “Stand still, you guys.”
“We aren’t moving.” Faye stooped and inspected Kylie’s noggin. “How hard did you hit your head? Are you seeing double?”
“Of course she’s seeing double,” Boone said. “She’s shit-faced.”
Swearing, Faye tried to pull her friend to her feet, but Kylie’s arms and legs went all noodly. “I could use some help getting her in my van,” she said to the men.
Ashe, the smug, blurry dog, rubbed his paws together and smiled. “I’ll do it.”
“Touch her, Davis, and I’ll kick your ass.”
It was a voice she hadn’t heard in a long time, but one she’d know anywhere and in any state of mind.
Ashe knew it, too. “Just trying to help.”
Knowing the dog’s true intention, the circle of faces that had been staring at Kylie snorted, then turned their attention to the don’t-challenge-me stranger. Only he wasn’t a stranger. He was one of Eden’s own. Or at least he used to be.
Jack Reynolds. Kylie’s first major crush. Although crush was putting it mildly. Best high school bud of her infuriating brother, this man had made tofu of her teen hormones and ruined her for other men well into her twenties. He’d also broken her heart. Three times, to be exact. Not that he knew it, but that wasn’t the point.
She adjusted her crooked glasses and blinked up at the obsession of her youth. Dark cropped hair. River-blue eyes. A buff body and a warrior’s heart. Hands on denim-clad hips, the most handsome man in the universe ever towered above her. Then again, she was flat out on the floor. She hadn’t seen him in years, and usually her stomach fluttered when she did. Either she was completely over him or the mass quantities of vodka had paralyzed her vital organs along with her limbs. “Heard you were back in town.”
“No secrets in Eden.”
No kidding. That’s why Kylie generally guarded her words. Jack’s sister, on the other hand, vented to anyone who would listen. Jessica Lynn shared Jack’s good looks, but none of his good sense. A self-centered former beauty queen, it was always: Enough about you, let’s talk about me. Hence, most everyone knew about the feud between the estranged siblings, plus some of the particulars. Kylie noted the particular of most interest to her. “So, did you accept the job as Eden’s chief of police?”
“I did.”
She quirked a hopeful grin. “You been in here long, Chief Reynolds?”
“Long enough.”
“Going to arrest me for drunk and disorderly behavior?”
“No.”
“Shoot,” she complained as he hauled her off the floor. That would have brought Spenser running.
Dizzy, she rested her head against Jack’s shoulder, her face nuzzled against his neck.
God, he smelled good.
He tightened his hold and suddenly she was hyperaware of where she was.
In Jack Reynolds’s arms!
That’s when she felt it. Her traitorous stomach fluttered. Or maybe she’d overindulged in pepperoni pizza and cosmopolitans. Yeah, that was it. Crushing on Jack was hazardous to her heart. Better to battle an upset stomach than a doomed attraction. At least she could cure the former with Alka-Seltzer.
CHAPTER TWO
JACK REYNOLDS HAD BEEN in town for four days. Settling into his new home. Meeting with the mayor. Being courted by the town council and snubbed by his sister. Mostly he’d been reacclimating. Even though he’d grown up in Eden, he’d spent a lifetime in New York City, working for the NYPD. Big difference between the Big Apple and Eden. His friend’s little sister didn’t know how good she had it. Unless that was the alcohol talking. Either way, she’d just provided Eden with a week’s worth of gossip.
Jack had never seen the squeaky-clean McGraw sauced. Then again, he’d been avoiding Eden for years. Ever since he’d clocked his sister’s husband on their wedding day. He’d refused to tell Jessie why—effectively severing their dysfunctional relationship. Instead of going to hell, as she’d demanded, he’d returned to NYC. Over the next ten years, he made homicide detective, got married, got divorced, and tempted the devil as he took accelerated risks on the streets.
His wake-up call had come last month in the form of a young woman. A victim of a mob hit. He’d seen a lot of death. He knew how to manage his emotions. How to temper the revulsion and outrage. But how the fuck did you manage numb? Maybe he’d gone to hell after all. Jack Reynolds. Zombie cop. He’d sworn long ago that if he ever stopped feeling, he’d get out.
Easier said than done.
He’d resorted to drowning his misery and indecision in whiskey.
His sister’s crisis had kicked his drunken ass into action. When he’d learned through the grapevine that Jessie’s bastard husband had deserted her and her daughter, he’d sworn off the hard