BEVERLY BARTON - If Looks Could Kill

“This is total insanity and I want no part of it!” After yelling this, she had run from the room, leaving Jazzy to deal with Genny, who had either fainted or had done a great job of acting as if she had. As skeptical as Reve was about Genny’s sixth-sense abilities, she didn’t think the woman was a fake. Maybe sometime in Genny’s childhood, her crazy old witch woman grandmother had convinced her she was psychic. It seemed obvious that Genny truly believed she was gifted.

Later on, the two women had found her outside on the porch. Neither mentioned the “reading” or Reve’s outburst. Instead, Genny suggested she give Reve a tour of her greenhouses, which turned out to be a rather interesting excursion. It seemed that Genny owned a successful local nursery and specialized in herbs she also sold by mail order.

As soon as Jazzy removed a skillet of cornbread from the oven and turned it out onto a brown earthenware plate, she came over and eased the hot skillet down into the soapy water on the left side of the double sink. The minute the skillet hit the water, it emitted a sizzling sound.

“Need some help?” Jazzy asked Reve.

“Yes, I’m afraid I do.”

“Looks like you’ve managed to keep about six of the whites intact.” Jazzy lifted a tray from the counter and set it down to Reve’s right. “Clean your hands and then arrange the whites on the tray in a circle. While you do that, I’ll prepare the yolks.”

Reve sighed with relief. “Thanks.”

Jazzy patted her on the back. “It’s okay. Really. You’re just new to this kind of stuff. Any time I try something new, I feel as if I’m all thumbs.”

Before Jazzy could take over, a phone rang. Reve knew instantly from the musical ring that it wasn’t her cell phone or Genny’s residential line.

“That’s mine.” Jazzy wiped her hands on her apron, then grabbed her purse from the back of the kitchen chair and retrieved her cell phone. “Hello.” Jazzy’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m doing just fine, Miss Reba. How are you?”

Genny stopped dead still and looked inquiringly at Jazzy, who shrugged and grinned. Genny eased up beside Reve and whispered, “That’s Caleb’s grandmother. She’s always hated Jazzy. I can’t imagine why she’s calling her.”

“Lunch tomorrow?” Jazzy asked. “I—yes, I suppose so. Hold on just a sec, will you?” Jazzy looked at Reve. “Miss Reba has invited us to Sunday dinner. What do you say? Want to go?”

Not really, Reve thought, but when she noted the hopeful expression on Jazzy’s face, she replied, “Yes, certainly, if you’d like to go.”

“Miss Reba, we’ll be there.” Jazzy sucked in a deep breath and slowly released it. “And thank you.”

The minute she hit the off button on her phone, Jazzy whirled around, grabbed Reve and hugged her. Reve stiffened. She was unaccustomed to physical displays of emotion. Her parents had been kind and caring, but neither of them had been the type to shower hugs and kisses on anyone, not even their only child.

“Hot damn!” Jazzy released Reve and danced jubilantly around the room. “I guess hell has done froze over, gals. Miss Reba not only was civil to me, she honest-to-God invited me to Sunday dinner.”

The sound of a dog’s friendly barks alerted them that someone was outside several minutes before they heard tromping on the back porch. The kitchen door swung open, and a huge wolf-looking dog came barreling in, followed by Caleb McCord and Dallas Sloan. The dog came straight to Reve and sniffed her. Oddly enough, she wasn’t afraid of him, even though she’d never owned a pet. When he finished sniffing, the dog lifted his head and stared at her with golden eyes.

“I believe Drudwyn likes you,” Genny said. “You should take that as a compliment. He’s usually a very good judge of character.”

Chief Sloan slid his arm around his wife’s waist, leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. Reve glanced away, somehow feeling as if she was a voyeur. Her line of vision just happened to turn to Jazzy, who was in the middle of an equally loving exchange with Caleb. Reve’s cheeks burned with an embarrassing blush.

Don’t be ridiculous , she told herself, you have nothing to be embarrassed about and you know it . If people chose to make spectacles of themselves, she was hardly to blame. Not once had she ever seen her parents kiss each other. They considered such public displays of affection vulgar and low class.

With shaky hands, Reve placed the halved boiled egg whites in a circle on the plate, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with anyone else in the room.

“You’ll never guess in a million years who called and invited Reve and me to dinner tomorrow,” Jazzy said.

“My grandmother,” Caleb responded.

“You did it, didn’t you? Somehow you twisted her arm into—”

“Didn’t do any arm-twisting,” Caleb said. “I simply told Miss Reba that I loved you and intended to marry you and it would please me greatly if you two could get along.”

“You actually said that to her?”

“Sure did. And I mentioned that I’d hate to think she’d force me to choose between the woman I loved and my grandmother because I’d choose the woman I loved.”

Reve glanced up just in time to see Jazzy throw her arms around Caleb’s neck and kiss him again.

“You’re the most wonderful man in the world,” Jazzy told him.

“Then why don’t you accept my proposal? Say you’ll marry me.”

Jazzy pulled away from him, but held on to both of his hands. With tears misting her eyes, she looked right at him and said, “I’ll marry you.”

“Glory hallelujah.” Genny clasped her hands together in a prayer-like gesture.

Reve grew more uncomfortable with each passing minute. She should never have agreed to come here with Jazzy today. It had been a mistake from the very beginning. These people were little more than strangers to her, and yet here she was, not only helping prepare a meal they would soon share, but being privy to a marriage proposal and acceptance.

These two couples were close friends. She was an outsider who was unaccustomed to feeling out of place. Even if she and Jazzy were twin sisters, she doubted she’d ever be able to fit into Jazzy’s world. No more than Jazzy could fit into hers.

While the foursome were sharing this happy moment, Reve eased toward the back door. She could hardly escape and go back into town to her rental cabin, considering she’d ridden out here with Jazzy. Besides, none of them would understand why she felt so uncomfortable around them. But she needed a few moments alone, to compose her thoughts. She could step out on the back porch. Just for a couple of minutes. Several deep breaths of cool evening air might do her nerves a world of good. She seriously doubted anyone would miss her, at least not immediately.

Reaching the door without being noticed, Reve grasped the knob. Just as she opened the door and took her first step, she came face-to-throat with a wide-shouldered man wearing a brown suede jacket. Her heart all but stopped when she lifted her gaze and looked into the slanting green eyes of her worst nightmare—Sheriff Jacob Butler.

Chapter 7

When his father left the country club to drive home shortly after six, Brian had told him that he wouldn’t be in until late. And when Farlan had asked—hopefully—if he had a date, Brian had smiled and said yes, but that it was a first date and he preferred keeping the lady’s identity to himself in case things didn’t work out between them. It was far from the first lie he’d told his father, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Lying had become second nature to him. Sometimes he thought it easier to fabricate a lie than to tell the truth. Besides, what did his father expect after the example he’d set? Both of Brian’s parents were adept liars and apparently felt little or no guilt when they didn’t tell the truth. He’d been a kid, barely twelve, when he’d discovered that his beloved father, his idol, had feet of clay. And although he’d always adored his mother and, in a way, still did, he’d known since childhood that she was emotionally unstable.