Page 1 of Holding on to Chaos
CHAPTER ONE
Evangelina Merill was suffocating under a purple paisley wrap sweater that she couldn’t get over her head. Autumn had descended on Blue Moon Bend, rendering her South Carolina work-from-home wardrobe of yoga shorts and tank tops ineffective against the chill.
At the time, a visit to the town’s thrift shop had seemed like a good idea. But that was before she rapped her elbow on the dressing room wall hard enough to see stars. And before she got this sweater wedged firmly over her face.
And before the fire alarm went off.
“Everybody out!” The shopkeeper, a soft, grandmotherly type with a funny name—Meara? Morra?—pounded on Eva’s dressing room door.
“I’m stuck!” Eva told her, her voice muffled through the fabric.
The woman yanked open the door, grabbed Eva’s elbow and dragged her toward the door.
“Is this just a drill?” Eva asked through an armhole.
“I wish,” the woman puffed. “Forgot the grilled cheese was on the hot plate in the back. Caught a whole rack of hemp blouses and vintage leather vests on fire!”
That explains the beef jerky smell,Eva thought.
She felt a wave of heat at her back as the door of the shop closed behind her. And then a draft.
Oh. Shit.Her pants were on the floor of the dressing room.
Eva wrestled the sweater off her head in time to see the police cruiser pull up, lights flashing.
“Oh, no, no, no,” she whispered. “Not him. Not now.” Why did the response time in Blue Moon have to be thirty seconds? And why, dear Godwhy,had she left the house in her navy pinstripe push-up bra and her Let’s Do This cheeky bikinis?
“Oh, boy.” The woman next to her gazed at her with sympathy. Another dressing room victim, she had long dark hair and was wearing nothing but a bodysuit and Chucks. The woman jumped in front of Eva and stood in a Superman stance.
“What are you doing?” Eva had to yell the question to be heard over the sirens of the approaching fire trucks.
“I’m blocking you. You’re new in town. You don’t need your Facebook gossip group debut to be this. I’m Eden, by the way.”
Eva reached over Eden’s shoulder and offered her hand. “I’m Eva, and I hardly ever go out in public without pants… or a shirt.” They shook awkwardly.
Sheriff Donovan Cardona, all six-feet-four-inches of sublime male perfection, jumped out of the cruiser. “Everyone out, Mayva?”
Mayva! That was it.
It took Donovan all of half a second to zero in on her. She could tell without looking at him because her skin heated to approximately one thousand degrees. Her blush was visible from her hairline to her toes. Silently she cursed her redheadedness.
Donovan was still looking at her, staring really, Eva realized when she peered over Eden’s shoulder. Six firefighters rushed past them and into the store.
“Eva.” His voice, that delicious gravelly rasp, scraped over her bare skin like a razor.
“Morning, Sheriff,” she said, attempting cheerful and casual. The man only caught her in embarrassing moments. She had a crush on him the size of North America, and every time he saw her, she was doing something stupid. Falling out of a tree that her nephew Evan dared her to climb, walking into screen doors, appearing practically naked in the middle of town.
She blinked when a camera shoved its way into her face. “Ladies, can you comment on what happened here?” A scrawny man with wire-rimmed glasses and a digital camera demanded answers.
“Oh great.The Monthly Moonis here,” Eden groaned.
“What were you two doing when the fire broke out? Did you set the fire? Was anyone hurt? Are you going to buy those clothes?” He rattled off questions like a journalist at a press briefing, getting extreme close-ups of their pores.
“Anthony Berkowicz! You snap one more picture, and I’ll shove that damn camera up your damn ass,” Eden threatened.
“I’m not taking pictures,” he claimed. “I’m shooting video.”
“Anthony!” Eva and Eden shouted together.
