Читать книгу Where You Least Expect It - Tori Carrington, Tori Carrington - Страница 9

Summer always had a way of making Penelope Moon itch. Maybe it was the heat. On this muggy, late-June morning, at just before eight, it was definitely hot. And it would only get hotter as the day went on.

She tugged on Maximus’s leash while they walked down Main Street in downtown Old Orchard. The setter and Great Dane mix pulled back, nearly jerking her out of her practical sandals. She pulled tighter, smiling at Old Man Jake who was sweeping the sidewalk in front of his General Store. He gave her the same wary look he always gave her.

No, it wasn’t the heat. Well, it was and it wasn’t. Something else was to blame for the way she seemed to come alive in the summer, making her want to shuck her clothes and go skinny-dipping, an outrageous act that she would never give thought to at any other time of the year, in the Old Valley River near her grandmother’s house. And that had nothing whatsoever to do with the weather in northwest Ohio.

Perhaps it was the extremeness of summer. The heat seemed to amplify every emotion, pump up the volume of sounds, make smells more intense, colors more vivid, overwhelming the senses.

Then again, maybe it was because she was a winter baby and the polar opposite, summer, mystified her.

“Max!” she whispered to the mammoth, untrained dog as he stopped in Lucas Circle in front of a half-barrel planted with red impatiens and started to lift his leg.

Penelope Moon was twenty-four, unmarried in a family with a history of unmarried women, and had taken over her grandmother’s New Age bookstore five years ago. Back then, though, it hadn’t been a bookstore but rather a general herb shop called Potions and Spells. To be fair, the herbs still sold better than the books, but somehow “Bookstore” in the name lent the shop a more suitable air and encouraged more foot traffic, no matter the customers’ preferences.

Penelope still lived in the same house she’d grown up in, accepted that she would always be looked on as peculiar by the town, and appreciated every moment she stood above ground rather than lay buried in it. Heat and uneasiness aside, this morning pretty much resembled every other morning of her adult life. She got up just before dawn, made herself a cup of ginseng tea, watched the sunrise while sitting on the front porch of the old house she shared with her grandmother just outside of town. Then she put Maximus’s leash on and walked the two miles to open the bookstore in downtown Old Orchard, where she would spend the next eight hours before heading back home to help her grandmother Mavis make dinner.

Penelope caught herself smoothing down the tiny hairs at the back of her neck, trying to calm her restlessness. A state that even the dog seemed to tune in to as he looked at her with his watery brown eyes and gave a small whine.

She resisted the urge to tell him to hush. The townspeople already thought her strange enough without witnessing her talking to her dog.

She took her keys out of the front pocket of her cotton dress and looked around the clump of businesses that sat, one against the other, down Main Street and Old Orchard Avenue. Eddie’s Pub had already opened, but was likely serving coffee rather than beer this early. The library directly across from her was still closed. She could just make out some activity at the sheriff’s office across Lucas Circle and down a ways.

The tiny brass bells in the shape of morning glories tinkled as she opened the glass door bearing her shop’s name and hours in purple and white. The colors were mirrored inside with crisp, white wood bookcases lining the walls, and sprigs of lavender displayed everywhere.

Maximus gave a loud bark and pulled free of her grasp, galloping straight toward a waist-high display of aromatherapy lotions she had carefully stacked the day before.

“Max, no!” Penelope hurried after him, leaving the door unlocked behind her.

His leash was within reach, but it was too late. The four-foot pyramid of smooth, white plastic jars tumbled into a pile at her feet, one jar landing on her big toe.

“Ouch! Oh, Max.”

She stood staring at the mess, then at the canine—who was looking pleased with himself as he sat next to the demolished mountain, his tongue lolling. She’d had the exasperating dog for two years and had yet to find a way to tame his roguish ways. A Scorpio. Definitely a Scorpio. Though she had no way of knowing for sure. She’d awakened in the middle of the night to find him howling on the front porch where someone had put him, little more than a pup. She’d taken the abandoned pooch under her wing before he could blink his mournful eyes. Penelope had never even tried to find out who had left him there. All that mattered was that he’d needed love and she’d had it to give to him.

If only she was any good at discipline, maybe her life with him wouldn’t be so difficult. Even Mavis refused to keep him at the house while Penelope was at the shop.

“You,” she said, rubbing his ear. “Out back.”

“He ought to be put down, that dog.”

Penelope turned from where she was gathering the jars in her arms to find town gossip Elva Mollenkopf in the door, wearing her normal drab clothes and familiar lemon-sucking expression.

I should have locked the door behind me, Penelope thought. She put the jars down on the checkout counter, pretending not to notice the way Elva tried to hide behind displays and the two purple poles flanking the entrance to conceal her presence in the shop from anyone passing outside.

“He’s not that bad, really,” Penelope said, giving the dog a beseeching look not to prove her wrong. “He’s just a little clumsy is all.”

“He’s a menace.”

Penelope raised a brow and forced a smile as she turned fully toward the other woman. Elva wasn’t looking at her. Rather, she was trying to see whether she’d been spotted by anyone passing by.

“Drat that Lion’s store. I don’t know why they stopped carrying my face cream. It would be so much easier if I could still get it there.”

Fewer covert maneuvers, Penelope agreed silently.

Of course, even Elva grudgingly admitted that the herbal cream she bought from Penelope’s store was much more effective than the name-brand stuff she’d spent an arm and a leg on at the exclusive department store. In fact, during her last browsing expedition, Penelope was convinced she’d seen the face cream Elva claimed to have used right there on the cosmetics counter of the store in question. It was all she could do not to share the information with Elva. But no matter how much the woman bothered her, she needed the business.

Elva glanced over her shoulder from where she had a death grip on the foot-wide pole. “Did the cream come in?”

Penelope nodded. “Received a shipment from the guy in brown late yesterday.”

“Thank God.”

Elva released the pole and started toward the counter. “How much?”

Penelope named a price as she unlocked the register and put the prepared order on the glass countertop.

Elva’s eyebrows rose to meet the poorly dyed black of her hair. “That much?”

“Same price every time you buy it, Mrs. Mollenkopf.”

“I think you’re wrong. Could you check, please?”

Penelope smiled at her. “Sure.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Maximus get to his feet, his tail wagging with mischievous intent as he rounded the counter. Elva gasped as he pressed his cold snout into her crotch. The calculated nature of his actions made Penelope catch her breath.

“Max!” Penelope grabbed hold of his leash and tried to pull him back, a completely inappropriate laugh erupting from her mouth. She quickly cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mollenkopf. You know how dogs are.”

“I loathe dogs and have never spent time around them, so no, Miss Moon, I would not know how dogs are.”

She should have caught a clue in the two years she’d been coming into the shop—but Penelope wasn’t about to sass her.

“If you’d waited until I opened the store, Max would have been tied up out back.” Terrorizing her business neighbors when they tried to throw something out in the Dumpster rather than burrowing his nose in other people’s business.

Elva pulled the skirt of her dress out and stared at it in horror, as if she believed it permanently stained. “I’ll have you know that I’m going to file a complaint with the sheriff’s office.”

So what else is new?

“Pardon me?”

Penelope blinked at the older woman as she finally managed to gain control of the dog and pull him back. She hadn’t said the words, had she?

Maybe this morning was not like every other morning, after all.

“What if I give you a special ten-percent discount, Mrs. Mollenkopf?” she said. “You know, by way of apology for Max’s behavior?”

“Fifteen.”

“Done.”

Max sat, and she ignored his expression—which seemed to say “sucker”—as she rounded the counter to complete the transaction.

“Strange, that man.”

Penelope squinted at where Elva was staring through the front window at a figure walking down the street. The man’s hands were in the pockets of his khaki pants; his crisp, white short-sleeved shirt emphasized his long, lean arms and the deep copper tone of his skin.

“I don’t think Mr. Kendall’s strange.”

Elva glared at her. “Neither does the rest of the town. But I’m telling you, he’s strange. Blows in here from out of nowhere a year ago, no family, no mention of a family, and becomes so much a part of the community, you can’t tell him from the next guy.”

“He’s from Oregon. He doesn’t have any family. And he’s a middle-school teacher at St. Joe’s. What more do you want to know?”

Elva looked at her a little too closely, then took her change and counted it again. “I’d like to get a peek at what skeletons he’s hiding in that closet of his over at Mrs. O’Malley’s bed-and-breakfast.” She lifted a finger after putting her money in a black-sequined change purse. “And that’s another thing. Who lives in a bed-and-breakfast? A bed-and-breakfast is where one spends a weekend, not a year.”

Penelope said, “I’m sure there are no skeletons in Mr. Kendall’s closet, Mrs. Mollenkopf.”

“Shows how much you know.”

Penelope handed the woman the bag of cream just as the door bells rang, heralding another customer. She hadn’t even opened for business. She wondered why it couldn’t be this busy during the regular workday.

“Good morning, Miss Moon.” Aidan Kendall, the topic of their conversation, came inside, seeming to bring the sun with him. “Mrs. Mollenkopf.”

“Harrumph,” Elva said, sticking her nose in the air and stalking toward the door.

Aidan opened it for her, and she sailed through without so much as a “thank you” or an “excuse me.”

“Careful, Mrs. Mollenkopf, or I might get the impression that you don’t like me very much,” Aidan said in good humor.

She made another sound of disapproval, looked both ways down the street, then hurried away, probably praying she hadn’t been seen coming out of the shop. At least until the town cat, Spot, crossed her path, nearly tripping her. The fearless female feline ducked into the shop before the door could close. Max tilted his head to the side and made an inquisitive noise as if unable to believe a cat had just offered itself up for a morning snack. He leaned forward from where he sat in the storage room. Penelope easily closed the door, shutting him in, then moved to continue picking up the jars of fallen cream.

“Was it something I said?” Aidan asked, aiming a thumb at Elva’s quickly retreating back.

Penelope wondered why her skin suddenly seemed to burn all the hotter. “I wouldn’t take her behavior, um, personally. She doesn’t appear to like anybody much.”

Aidan bent to pat Spot as she made a perfect figure eight around his ankles, even as he gazed at Penelope. “Yeah.”

Her skin grew hotter still. Much hotter than she was comfortable with.

Darn summer and its heat.

She put the next load of jars down on the counter, then moved to the thermostat to switch on the air-conditioning. “Looks like it’s going to be another scorcher.”

“I like it hot.”

Penelope suddenly had a hard time swallowing.

Aidan Kendall liked hot weather.

She slowly turned to find him picking up the jars.

“No!” she fairly shouted.

His puzzled expression made her wince.

“I mean, you don’t have to do that. Really, you don’t.” She hurried over to take the jars out of his hands. “I have plenty of time to take care of it before I open up.”

Aidan stood still, allowing her to take the jars from him. Only, his arms could hold much more than hers. She juggled hers as he held up the last one, his grin making her toes curl inside her sandals.

“Just trying to help,” he said.

She looked at him and found herself leisurely staring into his deep brown eyes, noticing the slight crinkles at the corners, taking in the broad, manly curve of his jaw, the sensual definition of his lips. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she felt restless when he was around. All it took was one glance from him. He threw off an energy that messed with her own calm, making her not only want to peel off her clothes, but climb out of her own skin.

Which would be all right, if only she didn’t itch to try on his skin instead.

Penelope unloaded the jars. “Is there, um, something you wanted, Aidan?”

He shrugged and slipped his hands back into his pockets. “Isn’t it enough to want to stop and say hello to a friend?”

A friend.

Penelope fingered the smooth lid of a jar she held and considered the word. Such a simple word, really. But not one she had come across often in her lifetime in Old Orchard.

She’d never really had any friends. Her peers and the rest of the townsfolk had always seemed more like wary strangers.

Except for Aidan.

Every now and again he would pop up into her shop, giving her those curious toe-curling looks and trying to strike up conversation.

She smiled at him. “It’s more than enough.”

“Good, because it’s not the reason why I stopped by.”

She gave a tiny giggle.

A giggle? She didn’t giggle. The sound was so unfamiliar to her that she caught herself looking around to make sure someone else hadn’t entered the shop.

She cleared her throat, thinking that she really needed to get a grip.

Aidan felt all the tension seep from his muscles. He enjoyed Penelope Moon’s laugh. There was something genuine about the musical sound. Something that reached out and grabbed him unaware, reminding him of what was light and happy rather than dark and sad.

There was also an innocence about her that made him feel good. When he was around her, he forgot the reason he’d first come to this small town in the middle of nowhere and allowed himself to be, well, basically himself. She didn’t ask questions of him. Didn’t pressure him for details he was loath to give. She merely accepted him for the man that stood in front of her.

She was also a sight for jaded eyes.

Oh, he knew what the rest of the townspeople said about her. The nicest thing they said was that she was a bit odd. The worst, that she was a practicing witch—one you didn’t want to cross lest she cast a spell on you. The latter had come from Mrs. Mollenkopf herself the other day. He’d overheard her in the post office when he’d gone to buy a book of stamps.

He supposed Penelope Moon did look the part, what with her long, silky black hair and big black eyes and pale skin. But rather than see her as odd, he preferred to think of her as real. As real as anyone he’d met since his late wife.

“Leo.”

Aidan blinked, realizing Penelope had said something. “Pardon me?”

“Your sun sign. You’re a Leo, right?”

He cracked a grin. He should have known what she’d meant straight off. She’d been asking him to give her his birth date since the first day they met. When he’d refused, she’d taken to trying to guess his sign.

Just as he always did, he shook his head. “Not a Leo.”

Her soft mouth turned down into a frown that merely enhanced her natural beauty. She didn’t have on even a touch of lipstick, but her lips were still the deep, ripe color of strawberries in season. He’d bet she didn’t wear mascara, either, even though her lashes were thick and sweeping, and vividly outlined her dark, dark eyes.

She cocked her head as she looked at him looking at her. “If I got your sun sign right, would you admit it?”

He slowly shook his head. “No.”

“Taurus.”

He chuckled. “No.”

He didn’t want to think about the truth behind his hesitancy. The fact was, he couldn’t give her his real birth date for fear of what might happen in the future. And he didn’t want to lie to her either.

Better to keep things light between them.

He watched her touch a leather band holding a charm—one he couldn’t make out—around her slim wrist.

“So, you said there was a reason you came in here?” she said quietly. Too quietly.

Aidan blinked and looked up into her fathomless eyes. “Um, yes. I wondered why I didn’t see you at the Fourth of July planning committee meeting last night.”

She broke the connection of their gazes as she looked down. “Hmm…I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not a member of the planning committee?”

She moved toward the mess of jars all over the floor and bent to continue picking them up.

She was slender. Almost too slender. Easily as tall as he was at five foot eleven, her limbs were long and willowy, almost model-like. Or they would be if she wore more flattering clothes. Instead she leaned toward muted earth-tone dresses that he guessed to be a size or two too big. It was at moments like these, however, when she was bent, forcing the fabric to mold to her body, that he noticed how very curvy she was.

And was reminded of how long it had been since he was with a woman.

“I see,” he said, crouching to help her. “So the meeting conflicted with another committee meeting, maybe?”

She looked at him shyly. “No.”

“Ah. So the reason has to be a man, then.”

Her flush was so complete, so unexpected, that his stomach knotted.

“Um, the answer to that would have to be no, as well.”

Aidan’s chest tightened. Over the past twelve months he’d come to see that this woman had so very much to give…if only she could be encouraged to do so. Her opinions were fresh and unbiased. Her appearance uplifting. Her very presence like a spring breeze.

He hated to watch her go back and forth from her grandmother’s house to her shop, never stopping to talk to anyone, never veering from the well-tread course, never batting an eye when on occasion the town kids would call her the witch that so many of them believed her to be.

He’d thought if he could get her to come out of her shop, upset her normal pattern, force the town to see her for who she really was, he would be doing her—and them—a favor.

And if a small fringe benefit was that he would have an excuse to spend more time around her, he wasn’t going to acknowledge it. Of course, he couldn’t allow himself to get involved with her. Or anyone else for that matter. Not until he could take care of some very important issues on his personal agenda.

She whispered something.

“Pardon me?” he asked.

She blinked at him, seeming horrified. “I didn’t say anything.”

“I could have sworn…” She looked utterly aghast, and he realized that whatever she’d said hadn’t been meant to be heard. He smiled. “Never mind.” He leaned back on his heels and handed her the jars one by one, while she reached up to place them on the counter. “Anyway, the holiday is only a week away and the committee is no closer to agreeing on a theme than they were three months ago. I could really use an ally.” He offered up a grin. “Someone whose vote I could count on. Besides, acting like a member of the community might be a good idea.”

Her eyes narrowed a bit as she continued taking the jars from him. “I’ve been a member of this community my entire life.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He refused to release his grip on the last jar. She held on to it even as he did. He swore he felt a strange warmth climb up his arm and down into his stomach.

“I know,” she said finally.

Aidan moved his fingers until they were covering hers. Her skin was so soft, so warm and inviting under his. He’d forgotten what it was like to touch a woman in that simple yet intimate way. Forgotten how alive it made him feel.

The bells above the door jingled, shattering the moment. He released the jar. Penelope’s flush deepened as she put it on the counter, then she rose.

“Good morning, Sheriff Parker.”

A jolt of fear shot through Aidan as he got to his feet.

He reminded himself that he had nothing to fear from Sheriff Cole Parker.

At least, not yet…