Page 62 of The Pretenders of Copper County
Chris’s answering smile was warmer than sunshine. But instead of reaching for the car door, he bit his lip again… this time with intent. “You know, the husbandly thing to do would be to kiss me goodbye. It would probably be good for our, um, cover story.”
My stomach clenched with want, even as I pretended to consider this. “Good thinking,” I finally agreed. My fingers slid around to cup the back of his neck, tangling in his soft hair as I drew him closer.
I’d meant it to be a short kiss. A tease. But as so often happened, the moment Chris sighed against my lips and I tasted his sweetness, my intentions went out the window. My hand slid down his back, pulling him closer until he was on his knees in his seat, fully leaning over the center console with his hands clasped behind my neck and his chest against mine.
He still wasn’t close enough. I yanked at the hem of his sweater, needing to feel his soft skin against my palms?—
Someone knocked on the passenger-side window. “Chris? Chris Sunday, is that you? Are you feeling better? Have you finally come for your library card?”
Startled, we jumped apart. A woman I vaguely recognized as the librarian we’d met last week waited impatiently on the sidewalk likeIwas the one interruptinghermorning.
“Fuckingfuck,” I muttered. “You will never convince me that I like small towns.”
“Liar. This town’s growing on you already.” Chris laughed as he sat back, but it came out a little breathy, and when I turned to look at him, I noticed his glasses were askew. I fixed them so they sat perfectly straight on his face, resisting the urge to pull him against me again.
“Later?” he asked.
“Definitely,” I agreed.
As he scrambled out of the car and greeted the woman, I fought the urge to follow. But Chris wasn’t the only one affected by our kiss. I adjusted my pants before reaching for my own door handle. By the time I got to the sidewalk, he’d disappeared into the library.
My errands at the hardware store took considerably less time this morning since Hen Lattimer wasn’t manning the cash register, and his replacement, a blue-eyed, young charmer named Theo, was quick and helpful without being nosy.
Is that the Theo whose boyfriend is Vega’s uncle Bennett?I wondered as I loaded my supplies into the trunk.Because if Bennett’s old enough to have a teenage niece, there must be quite the age gap. Bet there’s a story there…
I froze in horror. Was Chris right? Had the town been growing on me? I slammed the trunk lid closed, silently vowing to gouge out my own brain with a paint stirrer if it ever produced such a gossipy, small-town notion again.
With an hour to kill and no desire to wander into anyother shops and face an inquisition about my husband, I knew I couldn’t put off my call to Janissey any longer. I looked up and down the main road, searching for a relatively private place to make a call—a call that might ultimately involve a lot of yelling if anyone tried to stonewall me from getting the answers I needed—and decided the open lot under the “O’Leary Farmer’s Market” sign on the far side of the street was good enough.
I walked purposefully down the sidewalk but couldn’t help inhaling the crisp autumn air that carried the faint hint of woodsmoke, or grinning when I saw a mint-condition sunshine-yellow Chevy Corvette from the 1960s that could have been my dad’s dream car, or shaking my head as the world’s largest and ugliest camper gave a little warning honk as it putt-putted down the center of the street.
The town had its charms, I could admit that. It felt comfortable. Familiar.
Maybe itwasgrowing on me…
Like a zombie virus.
I passed under the sign, parked myself on a nearby bench, and placed my call. To my shock, Janissey answered on the first ring.
“Sunday! I was just about to call you. You must have a sixth sense—” he joked.
But I was not in the mood. “A sixth sense? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for over a week, and you’ve been putting me off. I haven’t gotten an update on Dante or the Evanoviches, I still don’t know what the fuck happened at the safe house you arranged, and it seems like nobody over there gives a good goddamn where I am or whether my protectee is still alive. Heis,” I added. “No thanks to you assholes.”
“I get it. I’d be pissed, too. But you know what I’m dealing with here. I just got back in the office yesterday, myself. And of course we know where you are. I got all your messages. I just trusted you’d be doing your job, just like I was doing mine?—”
“If I don’t have the information I need, how am I supposed to do my job effectively? How am I supposed to keep my protectee safe? What happened to ‘Security Through Trust’?” There was a distinct note of bitterness in my tone that I didn’t bother trying to hide.
“If you’d shut up a second, I’d give you information.”
I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my temper. The sun filtering through the trees made brightly colored lights wheel across the back of my eyelids. It felt a little like kissing Chris. My voice was noticeably calmer when I said, “Tell me.”
“Dante Fromadgio’s agreed to the terms of a plea deal. Fuckingfinally. The attorneys say he’s signing tomorrow morning. He’s not happy about it, but he’s going to testify against Robert Evanovich.”
I opened my eyes. “Which means the Evanoviches are going to come after him harder.” Come afterChrisharder.
“Actually, no. Our sources now claim the Evanoviches aren’t moving against Dante at all.”
“Not moving against…?” I frowned. “Your sources are wrong. Someone was looking for Chris back in Vermont. That’s what prompted this assignment in the first place. And they attacked our safe house?—”
