Beth Ciotta - Out of Eden

Like Kylie, he despised the tedium of this Midwestern mom-and-pop town.

Unlike Kylie, he had no intention of shaking things up. He’d flirted with danger a month earlier, a moment of weakness. A mistake he’d quickly rectified. Drawing attention to himself was not an option.

Or was it?

At 7:40, Travis parked his pickup in the alley behind the hardware store. He entered through the back door, traded greetings with his boss and two coworkers. He tidied his work station and skimmed new orders. He did everything exactly as he always did, only this morning, like that one unfortunate night, he couldn’t calm his inner self. His true self.

At 8:00 a.m., his boss opened for business and Travis struggled to maintain his composure, his wife’s last request ringing in his ears. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Unfortunately, as his loneliness and frustration escalated, the warning packed less punch.

KYLIE WOKE UP WITH a blinding headache and a gross taste in her mouth. Her memory was splotchy, too, but it could have been worse. She could have woken up next to Ashe. Or she could have puked up her guts. Although, if she had slept with Ashe, she would have felt wretched and not because of a hangover. She didn’t care how good-looking he was, the man was a bed-hopping sleaze with a checkered past, and she had scruples.

She also had a stabbing pain behind her dust-dry eyeballs.

Who would have thought a trendy drink could be so lethal? Except she’d had three, four if you counted the third as a double, over a short period of time. She regretted taking a spill at Boone’s—not exactly a shining moment—and she sort of felt bad for lashing out at Max and gang. But she didn’t regret her vow to shake things up. She’d meant every word, well, the ones she remembered. At the very least, she could attack her own dull-as-dirt existence. She could be bold. She could take risks.

A moment blipped in her mind.

Her. Jack.

She smacked her forehead, winced.

“Stupid cosmos.”

She had a big-butt hangover and one mortifying memory. Her lame attempt at seducing Jack Reynolds. He’d resisted her flirting. He’d tolerated her kiss. She didn’t know what else to call it. He didn’t jerk back, but he didn’t reciprocate. But that wasn’t the shocker.

There’d been no spark!

Considering the Mount Fuji-size crush she’d had on the man for most of her freaking life, she’d expected to go up in flames the moment she’d sampled that sexy mouth. Instead, she’d felt nothing, nada, numb. Either the alcohol had obliterated her senses or she really was over him. Completely. She chose to believe the latter. Otherwise, living in the same town with him, again, would be torture.

She still couldn’t believe he’d moved back to Eden in the first place. He’d devoted his life to fighting the bad guy. Even as a kid, Jack had been the first to stand up to schoolyard bullies, usually in defense of others, because you’d have to be nuttier than a squirrel’s hoard to tangle with Jack Reynolds. He and Spenser were both motivated by macho protector instincts. Only Jack gravitated toward fighting crime in the big city, and Spenser had joined the fight against evil on foreign soil. Kylie had never been to New York City, but she knew it brimmed with art, music and literature, diverse cultures and interesting people. So much to do and see…unlike in Eden. Plenty of criminal butts to kick…unlike in Eden.

“The man will be bored to tears within a month,” she mumbled into the murky predawn. Good thing she was no longer crushing on him, because he wouldn’t be here for long. Unlike Kylie. The way things were going she’d be here until she was six feet under. Not that she wanted to leave Eden forever. Just for a while. Just long enough to experience the beauty and wonder of Asia. Although at this point, an adventure on any level would do.

“You can hide under the blankets feeling sorry for yourself or you can attack the day with gusto, McGraw.” Despite the nauseating pulse behind her dry, bleary eyeballs, she swung her bare feet over the edge of the bed. “Gusto it is.” She grimaced at the aftertaste of the nacho chips she’d wolfed down, compliments of the midnight munchies. “But first I’m brushing my teeth.”

“HOW THE HELL DID YOU get my toothbrush? Oh, shit. Wait. Shit.”

Note to self, Jack thought as the stray mutt peed on his bathroom floor, don’t yell at the dog. Any time he exhibited frustration, Shy—he had to call her something—peed. Not a lot, just a nervous sprinkle. Still. “Damn.”

He grabbed a wad of tissue and soaked up the mess.

Shy cowered on the bath mat.

Two nights earlier, he’d found the midsize stray cowering under the old rocker on his back porch. She was scared of thunderstorms. She was scared, from what he’d witnessed so far, of everything. Starved, wet and frightened, the pitiful thing had allowed him to coax her inside. Next, he’d called animal control, but no one had reported a missing dog that looked like a miniature German shepherd. He’d told himself, and Shy, that he’d only keep her until he found her owner or a suitable home. The way things were going, that day couldn’t come too soon.

He adopted the casual manner he used to soothe victimized humans. “Easy, girl.” He flushed the soiled tissue, then washed his hands. Noting the dog’s stricken look, he ruffled her bowed head. Five seconds later, she trotted after him and into the kitchen, tail wagging.

He opened the fridge and nabbed the makings of a mushroom omelet.

Shy circled twice, then curled on the braided rug in front of the sink.

“Don’t get too comfortable. You’re coming with me today.” Yesterday, she’d destroyed one of his shoes, two books and a magazine. Either she’d been pissed because he’d left her alone, or bored. He wasn’t a doggy shrink, but this pup had issues. She was a complication he didn’t want or need. His goal was to simplify.

Jack beat three eggs, then poured them into a heated skillet, his mind veering to another complicated doe-eyed female. Kylie McGraw. Her goofy smile and fiery spirit. Her red panties and lush lips.

That freaking birthday kiss.

Too bad I didn’t feel anything.

It’s not like he’d put any effort into it. Still. He’d felt something and she hadn’t. Then again, she’d passed out seconds later. Maybe she’d been too trashed to feel anything. His ego demanded a second shot. Logic said, let it go. The only thing worse than a mutual attraction would be acting on it. This was Kylie. Sweet and responsible. Except when she’s trashed. She was the marrying kind and he was the kind who wrecked marriages.

Shy barked.

“A recipe for disaster, huh?”

Another bark.

“Right.”

Jack fed the mutt a half a can of beef kibble, then loaded up his own plate with an omelet and toast. He ate standing up at the counter. Sipped coffee. Flipped through Law and Order magazine and contemplated his first official day as chief of police.

He wondered if Kylie would go through with her threat to shake things up or if she’d lose her nerve when she gained her sobriety. He had better things to do than reading her the riot act for disturbing the peace. Like organizing his new office and finding a home for Shy. There were also security issues pertaining to the upcoming Apple Festival.

One thing he wouldn’t be doing was investigating a gang shooting or a mafia hit. Those two factions didn’t exist in Eden. Hell, there hadn’t been a murder of any kind in this town for several decades. No atrocities. No risk that he’d experience that damned numbness that made him wonder what he’d become. No self-disgust binge drinking.

Who needed a shrink, he thought as he topped off his coffee. He had Eden.