Page 23 of Holding on to Chaos
“Ah, hell, Fitz,” Donovan muttered. He held up his hands to address the crowd. “Everyone calm down.”
Ellery slammed her empty glass down on the table and stared out the dark windows. “This means war,” she murmured. Eva was the only one who heard her. She slapped cash on the table over the bill and wiggled her way through the crowd that was gathering around the fearless sheriff. As she headed toward the door, Eva felt the weight of his gaze on her. She turned and mouthed “thank you” over her shoulder. His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head.
She was in trouble with Sheriff Sexy. And she didn’t mind one bit.
--------
Eva dialed her sister the second she was in her car. Emma had moved to Blue Moon a year and a half ago, ending things with her boyfriend Mason and leaving him on the west coast. She’d never given him a second thought until he’d shown up in town with an out-of-the-blue marriage proposal orchestrated entirely by the Beautification Committee. Mason’s proposal finally made Emma confront what she really wanted.
And what her heart had demanded was Nikolai Vulkov. He wasn’t the 401(k) and mortgage kind of man. No, he was a whisk a woman away for a week of shopping and sinfully hot sex in Paris kind of man.
They’d eloped—to Paris, of course—just a few months before and Eva was thrilled to note she’d never seen her sister happier.
“Mason and Ellery are getting married,” Eva said, cutting off Emma’s greeting.
Emma laughed. “I know. They came to me this afternoon at the brewery. It was very sweet and completely unnecessary. I’m happy for them, and we’re all invited to the wedding.”
“Well, here’s something you probably didn’t know. Ellery broke the news to the B.C., and they kicked her out.”
“What? Shut up!” Emma screeched. Her screech turned into a giggle and a whispered “Stop it!”
“Oh, geez. Is Niko there?”
“I’m here, and I’m distracting your sister, Eva,” Niko said into the phone. “If you want to call back in an hour, you can have her all to yourself.”
“Gross. Carry on. Em, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Yoga with Gia?” Emma offered.
“Sounds good. Bye, Niko.”
“Bye, Eva.”
She hung up before she had to hear more naughty bedtime giggles out of her sister and pulled into Beckett and Gia’s driveway. She jogged around to the backyard, shoved her keys in her front door, and hurried inside. She didn’t bother with the lights and, instead, went straight to her laptop.
She’d been itching to take notes at the brewery. The man was walking, talking inspiration. She was afraid she’d forget a piece of the Donovan Cardona puzzle, and then, when she recreated the man, he’d fall flat on the page. But if she pulled out her notebook, he’d make her explain what it was for. And she wasn’t willing to go that far with him… at least not honesty-wise.
Coming here, meeting him. It was fate. He was exactly what she needed professionally. And, if she stared into those denim blue eyes a second longer, it would be personally too. It was embarrassing to think that she couldn’t look at him without launching into a thousand fantasies while he probably saw her as just another citizen to protect. She didn’t want to be protected. Her sisters and father had done enough of that in the years after their mother left.
No, Eva didn’t need another protector. She needed a man who would forget to be careful with her. One who made her feel lusted after, loved, craved, adored.
Unfortunately, no matter how many times she waded into the dating pool, she waded right back out feeling alone and unsatisfied.
Maybe that’s why romance novels had appealed to her. That heat, that knowing, when heart and body recognizes what they’ve been waiting for. She had written her first love story in college, and was embarrassed at the thought of her dual business management and finance major roommate finding it, hiding it in a folder on her hard drive labeled Warranties and Manuals.
Then she’d written another. And another.
By the time she’d graduated with her freshly minted creative writing degree, she’d had a few dozen short stories and a sketchy outline for a novel. She’d written it, poorly, and told no one as she’d queried agent after agent, imagining the moment she would finally find her own book on a shelf somewhere.
After her twenty-first rejection, Eva scrapped the book and vowed to become a disillusioned adult. She landed a job as a technical writer, a “good” job in terms of money and benefits. But it was sucking the soul out of her.
One night, after too many glasses of wine out with friends, Eva had walked past a book store that drew her in with its glossy book covers and exciting titles on display. She’d decided then and there that she wasn’t done with writing regardless of what any gatekeeper told her. Eva knew in her blood that this is what she wanted to do.
At night, between disastrous dates, she started fiddling with a new story. She worked on it for a year and between working and writing, she researched every tiny detail of indie publishing. If the big publishers didn’t want to give her a chance, then she’d make her own.
To pay for a cover designer and professional editing, Eva saved every penny she could, living in crappy apartments with lukewarm water and stained ceilings. And in that year, she’d moved three times trying to outrun the past. But the past wasn’t done with her yet. When her sisters asked about her vagabond lifestyle, she told them she was experiencing wanderlust. They applauded her independence… and then offered her money.
She knew they were coming from a place of sisterly love, but Eva was going to solve her problems and run down her goals on her own. She’d prove to everyone—herself included—that she was good enough. And then she would finally be the woman she’d always planned to be.
