Page 30 of The Fine Art of Faking It
“If you two are done comparing war wounds—” Eden began, intent on getting Davis out of the room.
“Excuse me, Eden? Sheriff Cardona’s here to see you,” Sunny said poking her head into the room.
“Donovan!” Eva came to her feet as all of her six-foot-plus husband ambled into the room in his uniform.
“Hey, honey.”
Eva danced over and placed a NC-17 kiss on her husband of three days.
“Newlyweds,” Eden muttered.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Eva, but you taste a little like puke,” Donovan said in a soft whisper.
Maybe tequila instead of rum, Eden decided.
“I threw up in the umbrella stand,” Eva confessed.
Donovan didn’t look remotely surprised.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Davis said, clapping Donovan on the back.
“Thanks,” Donovan beamed, grinning down at his wife. For a split second, Eden wondered if Davis had ever looked that way at a woman and then decided instantly that she didn’t care.
“Did you need something, Sheriff?” Eden asked, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.
Donovan cleared his throat. His gaze flitted to Davis and back to Eden guiltily. “I’m afraid I’m here in an official capacity.”
“Oh, for shit’s sake!” Eden spat out. “That was fifteen years ago, and it wasn’t my fault!”
“What’s going on?” Eva asked.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Donovan asked Eden. He pulled off his hat, revealing a mohawk earned during the height of the astrological apocalypse last week.
“Why don’t we hold a town meeting, and you can interrogate me in front of everyone to see if I burned down Davis’s house?” Eden suggested.
There was a noise in the hallway, and they all froze as a troop of six women giggled past on their way to the stairs.
Eva’s gasp took the air out of the room. “Donovan! Are you accusing Eden of starting the fire?” she asked, drilling a finger into her husband’s chest.
“Eva, I have to do my job.”
Eden rounded on Davis. “So me opening my home to you earns me a visit from the sheriff? I can’t believe you think I did this!” She couldn’t believe she’d cooked this man eggs last night.
Davis stepped carefully into the fight that she was dying to have. “First of all, Eden, I never said I thought you had anything to do with it. In fact, that’s exactly the opposite of what I told the fire chief.”
“Donovan, how can you think Eden would have anything to do with this?” Eva hissed. Eden’s heart softened at how offended her friend was on her behalf. Although Eva probably didn’t know what had happened all those years ago.
“Then who decided I’m a suspect, Gates?” Eden demanded.
Davis let out a heavy sigh. “I’m guessing Donovan here got a call from my apoplectic father today. I told him about the fire. He didn’t take it well.”
“So he called the cops to tell them thatIdid it?” Eden said shrilly. The Moodys and Gateses had, for the most part, left law enforcement out of their feud. This would take things to a whole new level. She hated to think of the revenge her parents would want to extract now. If Donovan hauled her out of here in handcuffs, would they paint giant penises on the Gateses’ fleet of electric cars again?
“That sounds like something he’d do,” Davis said.
“A source called to express their very loud, demanding concern that we perform a thorough investigation,” Donovan said over Eva’s head. “Unrelated, is your father on any kind of stress management program or anti-anxiety medicines? Because he should consider it with his health history.”
“Look,” Eva cut in. “I get that you’re in work mode, and you’re not allowed to come out and say ‘Of course, Eden’s innocent, and I’m wasting everyone’s time right now because Davis’s dad is a—sorry, Davis—dick. But if you don’t say those words right now, you’re going to have to cook yourself dinner tonight.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
