Page 4 of Holding on to Chaos
Eva huffed out a breath.
Just once in her life she wanted to gettheguy. Not the online loser who lied about being divorced or the meet-cute-turned-weirdo who still lived in his mother’s basement and insisted on “no crusts” through the intercom. The sheriff was the perfect representation of the kind of man who was her ideal and completely out of her league. Sexy as hell, built like a professional athlete, kind-hearted, even-tempered, responsible, carried a gun for a living—which was seriously hot—and probably also carried some nice equipment beneath those uniform pants…
Eva wanted a man like Donovan Cardona to take one look at her and fall madly, hopelessly in lust with her. And then rip her clothes off and take her to bed for two weeks straight.
But that was a fantasy, and she knew fantasy from reality. In reality, it wasn’t so much about the man as it was being seen as the kind of woman she’d always wanted to be. Smart, beautiful, witty, graceful, interesting, sexy. She was tired of being the screw up, the baby, the only Merill to need a tutor just to scrape by in geometry.
She had goals. She promised herself that she would become that woman once she’d conquered her demons and finally put the past in the past.
Eva sighed and pushed it all aside. She was in Blue Moon to be close to her family and focus on what came next in life. She’d have plenty of time to moon over Sheriff Sexy later.
“Let’s see what else our pal Anthony said about the fire.” Eva grabbed her laptop off the dining table and opened it on the counter. She navigated to Blue Moon’s Facebook group and scowled at the screen. She had to scroll past seven pictures of herself prancing around downtown like an underwear model before she found the story. “According to Anthony’s attempt at journalism, the fire is out. ‘No injuries unless the two nearly naked customers—whose names have been withheld for privacy reasons—caught cold.’”
“That skinny little asshole,” Eden grumbled. “As if everyone in the county doesn’t know everyone else. We don’t even need to run names with obituaries. Everyone already knows who’s dead and who their second cousins are.”
Eva had been warned about the gossip group but had dismissed it as small town exaggeration. She hadn’t considered the possibility that she’d make her debut in the group in her underwear. Her father would be so proud. Next thing she knew, the Beautification Committee would come knocking trying to marry her off to a bellbottom-wearing hippie... who probably insisted that his mother cut the crusts off his PB&Js.
CHAPTER THREE
Eva, feeling neighborly, lent Eden her car so her new friend could get back to the B&B in time to set up for afternoon tea. Working from home and living in Gia and Beckett’s backyard in the middle of town meant she did most of her traveling on foot.
With no word on when it would be safe to retrieve her things from the smoky dressing room, Eva changed into her work uniform, cropped leggings, a tank top, and her glasses. Donovan’s gray t-shirt, folded neatly at the foot of her bed caught her eye. She picked it up, smoothing a hand over the fabric worn by countless washings. Sneaking a peek over her shoulder—she never knew when a niece or a nephew would appear—Eva brought the t-shirt to her nose and snuck a sniff.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the dresser mirror and saw a desperate, shirt-sniffing woman with eyes half-closed in dark fantasy. “Crap. I’m pathetic,” she muttered, dumping the shirt back on the bed.
This dry spell needed to end immediately if the scent of laundry detergent and dryer sheets was putting her over the edge.
She bit her lip. Technically she lived alone. There was no one else in the house to judge her for wearing a crush’s t-shirt. Maybe it would help her focus? She strutted downstairs cloaked in Cardona and felt inspired. She’d put in a few hours of work and forget about the whole half-naked in town thing for a while.
Eva fired up her coffee maker, slid on her headphones, and settled in to work.
And, as it happened on good days, she got completely sucked in.
She wasn’t sure how long she’d been at it. Long enough that her knees buckled under her when she jumped out of her chair when a hand settled on her shoulder. She spun around, hands in the only karate position she could remember from the intro classes she’d taken in college.
Sheriff Cardona was standing in her kitchen, his hand hovering instinctively over his stun gun as his eyes scanned the room for the threat.
“Holy mother of God!” Eva screeched, her heart trying to claw its way out of her throat.
His lips moved, but she couldn’t hear the words.
“What?”
He pointed at his ear and then at her. Her headphones. The Black-Eyed Peas were still rocking out in her ears. Eva swept them off her head and tossed them on the table next to her laptop.Shit. Her laptop.She slammed the lid shut on it.
“Uh, hi,” she said, pretending that she hadn’t just freaked out on him.
“‘Uh, hi?’ That’s what you have to say for rupturing my ear drums?” Donovan demanded, righting the chair she’d knocked over in her haste.
“You’re the one who broke into my house and scared the hell out of me!”
“I tried calling. You didn’t answer. And when I got here, I knocked hard enough to rattle the glass.” He was using his law and order voice on her as if she was some outraged citizen in need of talking down.
“My phone is back at the store. I left in a bit of a hurrybecause of the fire,” she reminded him. “And I was listening to music,” she sniffed.
“I’m amazed you can hear anything at all. You should be deaf from those decibels.”
“Why are you in my kitchen?” she demanded. The man was taking up half the space in her house and making her feel defensive. But at least her tongue was no longer tied.
