Naughty All Night E-Book

Jennifer Bernard

• Herausgeber: Jennifer Bernard
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Serie: Lost Harbor, Alaska
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Seitenzahl: 393

Beschreibung

A standalone novel in the sizzling Lost Harbor, Alaska series

Kate Robinson has had a talent for trouble since she was a young teen in Lost Harbor, Alaska, during summertime visits to her grandmother’s peony farm. It’s the only true home she’s ever known, so it’s where she retreats when REAL trouble chases her out of California, her legal career in ruins. Upon arriving, Kate finds her eccentric grandma has rented out her home! First order of business—eviction. So what if it’s a move that could get her shunned by the locals? She’s not known as Naughty Kate for nothing.

Fire Chief Darius Boone doesn’t need to add landlady troubles to his already busy plate, despite how fun it is to battle with C. Robinson, Attorney-at-Law. A series of small fires have been breaking out around Lost Harbor. Nothing harmful. Yet. But the number of blazes is steadily growing. The only thing taking his mind off this latest town drama is fiery Kate, who makes Darius want to be naughty with her…in all the best ways.

Trouble is one thing, but nothing has prepared Kate for the likes of “hottie fire chief” Darius Boone. Why not have some harmless naughty fun while she figures out her next move? But she never expected the heat the two of them would generate—or to fall so hard. The next time trouble strikes, everything she loves is on the line.

Leseprobe

NAUGHTY ALL NIGHT

JENNIFER BERNARD

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

About the Author

Also by Jennifer Bernard

CHAPTERONE

Exactly one minute ago, Kate Robinson had been speeding merrily toward town; one curve in the rutted road later, she was stuck in the mud with her wheels spinning uselessly.

And if that wasn’t a perfect metaphor for her entire life, she didn’t know what was.

She was supposed to be in Los Angeles right now, winning over juries and having brunch with friends—not fetching fertilizer for her grandmother’s peony farm in tiny Lost Harbor, Alaska.

Movement at the side of the road caught her attention. A porcupine trundled toward the trees, half its quills raised in defense mode. She must have startled it with her muddy disaster.

With a sigh, she pressed the accelerator again, just in case something had changed in the past ten seconds. Whir. Spin.

Nope. If anything, the car had sunk deeper into the mud.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been dictating an email as she drove. It was a bad habit from her LA life. When you spent that much time stuck in traffic, you learned ways to use the time productively. Which was better, gridlock or a mud bath? At least with traffic, you knew you’d get moving eventually. On the other hand, the view from this particular mud bath was definitely better than a zillion brake lights.

Spruce trees loomed on one side of the road, and a view of Misty Bay on the other. Against the backdrop of a slate-gray April sky, snowy peaks shone like jagged white teeth. Even though the mountains across the bay still had plenty of snow, at this elevation things were starting to edge toward spring.

This was “break-up” season in Alaska, when the snow melted and the ground thawed, and mud swallowed up everything. Including the old Saab her grandmother Emma was letting her use.

Kate’s phone beeped with an incoming text.

ARE YOU BACK?? How come I had to find out from Jess that you were in town?

The text came from Maya Badger, one of her closest friends. Even though they’d only spent time together during the summers, when Kate’s parents had sent her to stay with her grandmother, they’d bonded immediately and been best friends ever since.

I’m in denial. Sorry. Can’t wait to see you.

Lies. Why the denial?

Long story.

Also, it wasn’t really a story she was ready to tell Maya, who was now the police chief of Lost Harbor, Alaska. She’d have to fudge it, a fact that depressed her. Her and Maya’s friendship had lasted so long because they could tell each other things they didn’t share with other people.

But not this.

Come out with me and Jess tonight. We’re getting out of LH and seeing some live music at the Moose Is Loose.

I’ll try. That did sound fun. Really fun. But she’d have to get airlifted out at this point. Quick question. How do you get a car out of the mud?

How stuck are you?

You know those dinosaurs who got stuck in the tar pits? Like that, except if they had cars.

Calling you.

But apparently she didn’t have quite enough service here for a call to go through. And in the next second, the words “no service” appeared where there had been a measly one bar.

Great. Maybe with her vast police powers, Maya could figure out her location from the signal that had just dropped. She could send help—a tow truck or something.

Or maybe she should see if there was anything she could do herself. Maybe she could push the car out of the mud. She put her hand on the door handle, then remembered that she’d left her mud boots back at the farm. She’d been so excited about a drive to town that she’d put on her cute purple suede half-boots with the chunky heel.

Suede didn’t like mud.

If she was going to free the car by pushing it, she’d have to do it barefoot.

But first—

She picked her phone up again.

Might as well complete that email she’d been dictating while she still remembered the point she was trying to make.

To [email protected].

Subject. Your refusal to be reasonable.

Mr. Boone, my grandmother has unfortunately misled you. I am the owner of the property on Fairview Court. She signed it over to me two years ago when she thought she was at death’s door. I mentioned the requirement about her chickens, and that I take care of them, only as a colorful and amusing detail. The fact that she’s alive and I’m not taking care of her chickens doesn’t change the fact that I am the legal owner of the property. It has no bearing on my right to ask you to vacate the premises.

Was she being too legalistic in her approach? That was an obvious occupational hazard. That was why she’d mentioned the chickens to begin with. But her efforts to be charming had fallen flat—at least for Mr. D. Boone.

She scanned the last email D. Boone sent, the one she was now responding to.

I have an agreement with Emma. I know her well, and I know for damn sure she wouldn’t go back on her word. A deal is a deal. On that note, are you holding up your end of your deal? When’s the last time you fed Emma’s chickens?

She ground her teeth together. How dare this complete stranger lay some kind of chicken guilt trip on her? How could she feed the chickens when she lived three thousand miles away? Besides, Emma liked feeding her own chickens. She was a stubbornly self-reliant pain in the ass.

Kate hadn’t mentioned Project Kick Boone Out to her grandmother because she feared that Boone was right. Emma would throw a fit about breaking an agreement. Her hope was that she could coax him to leave.

Or her. She didn’t actually know D. Boone’s first name. But the emails were so brusque and uncooperative that she’d jumped to the conclusion that they had to come from a man.

An extremely aggravating man.

But then again, weren’t they all?

A sound caught her attention, the low rumble of a vehicle coming from behind her.

Potential rescue? Possible kidnapper? Since this was Lost Harbor, odds were on rescue, but she was taking no chances. She rummaged in her bag for the bear spray Emma had made her bring.

The vehicle slowed to a stop behind her. It was a large crew cab truck with so much clearance it could probably drive right over her little Saab. The man who jumped out of it was equally large. His long legs came first—clad in work pants and mud boots.

AKA what she should have been wearing.

Then came the rest of him—broad and tall and muscular and a little intimidating, considering that she was alone in this forgotten spot on the side of a remote Alaskan road. He wore a weathered work jacket unzipped over a gray Henley.

With easy strides, he made his way through the mud to her car. She kept her hand on the can of bear spray next to her on the seat. He noticed that move, and his lips quirked. They were very appealing lips, she noted. Firm and full, with a sensual curve to them.

“If I help you un-muck your car, will you promise not to mace me?” His deep voice fit the general oversize nature of his physique.

She relaxed enough to allow herself to smile at the stranger. “Do you think you can get me out of this? It’s a mess. I swear, that mud came out of nowhere, Officer.”

One corner of his mouth lifted, indicating that he’d gotten her joke. But he maintained his serious expression. “You have to pay attention this time of year. No cell phones while driving.”

Ah, so he’d spotted her phone on the seat next to her bear spray. “Are you planning to help me or lecture me?”

“Maybe a lecture would help you.” His reasonable tone made her teeth clench.

“I can guarantee that it wouldn’t. No one likes to be lectured.”

“I said it might help you, not please you.” The word “please” in his deep, rumbling voice sparked a surprising little thrill deep in her belly.

Oh no. None of that now.

“If you want to please me, you could tell me what you recommend here. Do I need to call a tow truck?”

He took a step back and surveyed the muddy ruts that had claimed her tires. “What have you tried so far?”

“Not much. Just a little cursing and whining and regretting the fact that I didn’t bring my mud boots. I tried powering out of it, but that made it worse.”

“Yes, that would make it worse. The tires can’t get any purchase on the mud, so they just dig the tracks deeper and deeper the more they spin. They need something solid to grip onto. I’m surprised you haven’t encountered this situation before. It is break-up, after all.”

“I’m not from here.” She bit off each word as she spoke it. This was sounding suspiciously like that lecture she’d told him she didn’t want. “I’ve never seen break-up before. Not this kind, anyway. But I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my love life.” She could practically hear the “ba-da-bum” after that lame joke.

He was watching her closely as she spoke. His eyes were two shades of blue south of gray, a surprisingly soft color in the midst of all that masculinity. They looked almost silvery in the misty light.

Heat came to her cheeks under his scrutiny. “Sorry, dumb joke.”

“Eh, it was all right.” He shrugged one massive shoulder. “A little obvious, but not bad.”

For a murderous moment, she wondered how bad it would be if she used her bear spray on him right now. Surely someone else would come along to rescue her. “Can we get back to the main event here? Car. Mud. Stuck.”

“Sure. As I was saying, you need something under the tires.”

Then came a pause. A long pause, like he wasn’t going to say anything more than that.

“And?” she said impatiently. “Has winter frozen your brain?”

“Oh sorry. I thought you didn’t want a lecture. But I’m happy to explain the physics of it. It has to do with the force of friction and fluid dynamics, not to mention momentum. You see, when you hit a muddy patch, the last thing you want to do is slow down. Momentum will overpower the force of the friction—”

Oh my God. He wasn’t lecturing her, he was teasing her. And honestly, she completely deserved it. She hadn’t exactly been polite to this stranger. Sure, she was having a hell of a few months, but that didn’t mean she had to take it out on him.

“Can we start over?” she interrupted in her sweetest possible voice. Witnesses melted when she used this tone. Juries fell in love. Judges ruled her way. “I would dearly love to hear everything you know about mud. Who wouldn’t, really? I could listen to you all day long. But I hate to keep you from whatever you were doing before this. So for your sake, perhaps we could shift to the action part of the lesson?”

She gave the word “action” just a bit of flirtatious edge. She loved a good double-entendre.

He definitely picked up on it. She could see it in the gleam in his eyes and the ever-so-slight quirk of his lips. But he had impressive control. Clearly he had no intention of letting her get the upper hand.

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll get right on that.” he said. She detected a bit of a drawl. Maybe he wasn’t from here either. “I’ll be sure to write up my notes on driving in the mud for you. They could save a life. Possibly even yours, but most likely someone else’s.”

“That’s a low blow. I’m a very skilled driver, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that.” He turned away to head for his truck. “I have some blocks in my truck. Lesson number one. This time of year, always bring blocks.”

CHAPTERTWO

Darius swallowed back his grin as he went to retrieve his blocks from the bed of his truck. He always carried a selection of chunks of two-by-fours, four-by-sixes, one-by-sixes and other bits of lumber for emergencies like this. Most Alaskans did, but him especially. A rural fire chief was always on the job. Just this week, he’d helped a stranded motorist change a flat tire and pulled another rig out of a ditch.

He didn’t always get to rescue such a live one, however. Ever since he’d pulled over, she’d been spitting fire at him.

And he’d done everything possible to goad her on, he had to admit. There was nothing like a woman who gave as good as she got.

He wondered what her name was and where she was from. Definitely not local. Even if she hadn’t said as much, he would have known she wasn’t from around here. She was too…fancy, for lack of a better word. Her dark hair fell in glossy waves past her shoulders. Her lightly tinted aviator sunglasses looked like something you might see on a billboard. They took up half her face, giving him the impression of catlike bone structure and a sexy full mouth.

The icing on the cake was the fitted shiny red leather jacket she was wearing. You didn’t see a lot of red leather around here, and he hadn’t known what a sad situation that was until he’d laid eyes on her.

He grabbed an armful of blocks—at least one for each tire—and carried them back to the Saab. It was an older model, probably from the nineties, and unfamiliar to him. Maybe she’d driven it here from somewhere else. Like Chicago or New York City. Or Milan.

“I’m Darius, by the way,” he said as he passed the driver’s-side window.

“Kate.” Her tone was much friendlier now, probably because he was doing what she wanted instead of droning on about mud and purposely annoying her. “Be careful near the road, I saw a porcupine right before you showed up. I really appreciate you doing this. Do you want me to get out and help?”

He hid another smile at her obvious reluctance to do any such thing. She’d mentioned her lack of mud boots. He could only imagine the expensive shoes that probably went with that jacket.

“It’s all right. One of us needs to be at the wheel. Following my directions,” he added.

“Of course. When a knight in white armor appears, it’s bad form to argue with him, I suppose.”

“Shouldn’t that be ‘knight in white Armor-All’?” he murmured as he knelt down to insert a block under the front driver’s side tire. “Being a truck,” he added in case his dumb joke wasn’t obvious.

But she wasn’t one to miss a joke, clearly. She gave a surprised laugh. “That’s not bad.”

“Gee, thanks,” he said dryly. “Always good to keep your rescue victims laughing.” He stood up and gave the block a kick to make sure it was solidly wedged in place.

“You rescue people often?”

“Yes. It’s a full-time job.” Literally, it was. Not that she knew that. “Especially in mud season.” He passed around the hood of her car to the passenger side. She unrolled the window so they could keep talking.

“See, that’s the kind of thing that gets to me. What kind of place has a mud season? Why are people okay with that? Why do people voluntarily choose to live in a place where you have to jump from snow boots, which are unattractive enough, right into mud boots, which are somehow even less appealing?”

He nudged the passenger-side block into place. “You seem awfully worried about shoes.”

“Just go ahead and call me shallow. I don’t mind.”

He stood up and smiled. “So long as you promise not to mace me.”

She pulled a funny face at him. “It’s bear spray. And no promises.”

“Are you always this prickly when someone’s trying to help you out?”

She paused, cocking her head as if she had to think about that one. “Well, I can’t really say. Generally I don’t need help. And if I do, I just pay the person for it. It’s a cold, cold world out there, Darius.”

“Is it?”

He moved to the rear of the car to install the remaining blocks. He put them behind the tires so the car couldn’t roll backwards.

“Sad to say, it is.” Her grave tone piqued his curiosity. He got the feeling she was referring to something specific. “I don’t want to crush your illusions, Knight in White Armor-All, but most people are crap. Even more to the point, most men are crap. So I suppose I haven’t perfected my help-receiving manners because it just hasn’t come up very often.”

He finished his task and stepped to the side. “I’m going to overlook that insult to my gender. At least for now. Want to give it a try? Nice and gentle on the accelerator.”

She turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine. The car rolled forward, the weight of the front end pressing the forward blocks into the mud. He held his breath as the tires fought for purchase on the wood. Should he have put more blocks down? He hefted the extra length of two-by-four that he’d brought over. A little more wood ought to do it.

And that way they could continue their conversation. Maybe he’d even find out why she was so cynical when it came to men in particular, and people in general. Not that he disagreed, entirely. People could be crappy. In his case, that included a couple of women. More specifically, his ex-wives.

The car lurched forward and slid from side to side in the muck. A rooster tail of mud slammed across Darius’ pants, even though he tried to jump back in time. The Saab climbed onto the gravel with a squeal. As soon as she’d made it all the way out of the mud, Kate hit the brakes.

“You did it,” she called to him. “Thank you so much!”

He shook mud off his right pants leg, like a dog. Damn, now he was going to have to change before he drove out to the Moose. That meant he was probably going to be late for his gig. “No problem,” he grumbled.

“I owe you one. Really.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” The very thought irritated him—even if it wasn’t his job, people helped each other out around here. It went with living on the edge of the wilderness. “Just be more careful in the mud. If you hit a slick, don’t slow down. Just keep going or the mud will suck you in.”

She pushed her sunglasses back up her nose. “Now that sounds like life advice I can follow. Don’t slow down, just keep going. Got it. Thanks again, Sir Armor-All.” With one more salute of thanks, she zoomed off down the road at least fifteen miles over the speed limit.

He shrugged. What the hell, he was a fire chief, not a state trooper. It wasn’t his job to make her obey the speed limits. Good thing, too. She didn’t seem the type to obey anything except her own wishes.

Even if they left a guy alone with his wood, all covered in mud.

And if that wasn’t the story of his life, he didn’t know what was.

Darius swung back into his truck and grabbed his phone. He fired off a quick text to the band manager. Running late, but I’ll be there.

The bassist for a band from Oregon had gotten food poisoning and their manager had called him in as a last-minute fill-in. He loved getting a chance to play again—it was a great break from his current problem.

Someone was setting nuisance fires around Lost Harbor, and it was starting to piss him off.

He hit the speed dial for Nate Prudhoe, the only other full-time member of the Lost Harbor Volunteer Fire Department.

“Same as the others,” he told him. “No real damage, but one pissed-off home owner. I guess that bear cache dated from the 1930s.”

“Damn. Any clues?”

“Not a one. Who would have a motive for burning down a bear cache? Other than a bear?”

Nate chuckled. “Ding ding, we have ourselves a suspect. They are coming out of hibernation right about now.”

“We need to have a crew meeting about this. We’re lucky none of these fires have done much damage.”

“Except to our reputation.”

Darius swore. “This idiot is going down, whoever it is.”

“Right there with you, Chief. I’ll set up the meeting.”

“Thanks, Nate.”

He hung up his phone and noticed that a new email had come in while he’d been sliding around in the mud. It was from the woman who’d been driving him nuts for the past week, Catriona Robinson, Attorney-at-Law.

What kind of person felt the need to attach that information to every single email?

The same kind of person who would try to evict a guy for absolutely no reason, in the middle of gearing up for tourist season. He didn’t have time to hunt for a new apartment. Housing was surprisingly difficult to find in this little town, unless you were willing to buy. But he’d only been here for a little over a year, and he still wasn’t sure he was going to stay. So he preferred to stick with a rental.

But he disliked apartment hunting so much that he’d actually offered to buy the house from Catriona Robinson, Attorney-at-Law, instead of having to move before he was ready.

She’d rejected that idea right away, and their email correspondence had gone downhill from there.

I have a signed lease. I have no intention of moving until my lease is up. I’ve already paid next month’s rent. You have no right to evict me without notice or cause.

That sounded properly legalistic, but it didn’t seem to impress her.

I’m sorry to say that your lease wasn’t signed by the actual owner. It was signed by my grandmother. I’m the owner, and I wasn’t informed of said lease. I am ready and eager to claim possession of my property.

So this obnoxious lawyer was Emma Gordon’s granddaughter? He’d never heard about Emma having a granddaughter—or even a husband or children, for that matter. Obviously this attorney didn’t live here or know how things worked in Lost Harbor.

So you’re putting the blame on your grandmother? I signed in good faith and so did she. Emma is a friend and a solid member of the community. You should talk to her. She’ll straighten this out.

Emma Gordon was a very unique and iconoclastic woman with some wild stories to tell. She’d supplied a dozen orders of peonies to a volunteer fire department fundraiser, but that wasn’t the only way Darius knew her.

He and Emma both owned Harleys and had bonded over that fact when he’d picked up his bike from the ferry it had been shipped on. Apparently everyone knew to call Emma the instant a Harley came to town. She’d tracked him down at the firehouse and they’d gabbed for hours about their bikes. He respected the hell out of her, and felt sorry for her that her granddaughter was such a shark.

My grandmother has nothing to do with this. She signed the house over to me in exchange for taking care of her chickens when she dies, the lawyer had written.

He’d laughed out loud at that—typical Emma. One time, Emma had stopped by the firehouse and asked him how much money he would want to dig her a grave on her property.

“That’s not happening, Emma,” he’d told her. “Is it even legal?”

She’d gone on a long rant about lawyers at that point.

Amen to that. None of his experiences with lawyers had been good. Divorce, liability, fire department lawyers—he’d rather forget all of them. One nice thing about Lost Harbor was that there were only three lawyers in town, and one of them was on the verge of retirement.

He looked at the subject line of her latest email and burst out laughing.

Subject: Your refusal to be reasonable.

Excellent. He was getting under her skin. Maybe she’d give up trying to evict him. His stubborn streak had been activated and he truly believed that he was in the right here. Emma had never told him that she didn’t actually own the property. He only had three months left on the lease, anyway. Why couldn’t Ms. Attorney-at-Law leave him in peace until then?

He scanned her email and composed his own subject line.

Subject: Chickens

If you can prove that you know the names and varieties of Emma’s chickens, I’ll consider your suggestion that I move out.

P.s. She has thirty-two chickens, at last count.

P.s.2 They all have names.

P.s.3 You’re lucky I’m not asking what their favorite treats are.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the porcupine Kate had warned about. Its quills were settling back into place.

Okay, enough fun tweaking the attorney at law. He had to zip home to his house—while it was still his—grab his bass and find something else to wear tonight.

CHAPTERTHREE

Back at Petal to the Metal Peony Farm, Kate changed into her mud boots and unloaded the bags of fertilizer into a wheelbarrow. She trundled them down the path past the Duchesse de Nemours plot, where the creamy crown-shaped beauties were cultivated. Right now, all the peonies looked more or less like spears rising from long Typar-covered beds, but soon they’d be leafing out into a glorious symphony of white, deep rose, coral, and blush-pink blooms.

The farm consisted of an enchanting spread of grassy slopes punctuated by outbuildings, peony fields, and plastic-covered greenhouses known as “high tunnels,” where Emma grew vegetables and a few other flowers. Perched on a ridge above the town of Lost Harbor, overlooking Misty Bay and the stunning peaks of Lost Souls Wilderness, its thousand-foot elevation and southern exposure were perfect for growing peonies.

Right now, at eight in the evening in mid-April, the fluffy clouds drifting past the bluff held a hint of apricot from the oncoming sunset. The view was enough to make this property spectacular, and when you added in the beauty of the peonies in summer bloom, it could have come straight from a fairy tale.

And then there was Emma Gordon, Kate’s mother’s mother and the most ornery being on the planet. At eighty-two, she still worked her ass off on the farm, in mud boots and track suit, with a bomber jacket for warmth.

“Did you make that steer manure yourself?” Emma grumbled as Kate brought the wheelbarrow to a halt next to her in the high tunnel. The moist air inside smelled of rich soil and fresh growth.

“I ran into some trouble.”

Kate didn’t feel like admitting she got stuck in the mud. Alaska had a way of humbling a person, and she’d already been humbled enough by recent events.

“Trouble, trouble. Always in trouble. Reminds me of your teenage years.”

Kate took one end of a bag of fertilizer, Emma picked up the other, and together they unloaded it onto the ground.

“With a granny like you, what else would you expect?” Kate gave her a sunny smile. She and Emma had always enjoyed a kind of affectionate bickering relationship.

“I sure wouldn’t expect a lawyer. I blame your father for that.”

Kate let that jab pass, because it had a big foundation of truth. Her father bore the blame for a lot of things. Her current career implosion was completely due to him.

But when her father—a charming but mostly harmless grifter—somehow ended up with a choice between a dire prison sentence and a vengeful ring of criminals, she couldn’t very well abandon him. She’d left her respectable law firm, represented him on her own, gotten him a sweet deal, then hightailed it out of LA to avoid her father’s former “associates.”

“Can we not go there right now, Emma?” she muttered. “Yell at me about some other stuff, why don’t you.”

Emma’s black eyes snapped at her. “Don’t mind if I do. Got a call from Maya. She says you’re ignoring her. That’s rude, and I raised you better than that.”

“Oh my God, I’m not ignoring her, I’m helping out my favorite ancestor.”

“I’m not in the ground yet. Though I did pick out a good spot the other day.”

“If you’re going to talk nonsense like that, you’re on your own tonight. I will go out clubbing with Maya.”

They both chuckled at the word “clubbing.” Lost Harbor didn’t have “clubs.” It had bars and saloons.

“Good, then she’ll get off my ass and go solve some crimes.”

“What crimes? The biggest crime here is that we have to wear these mud boots everywhere.”

“Then go change and get outta here. Have some fun.”

“Are you implying that fertilizer isn’t fun?”

“Never.”

Kate laughed at her grandmother’s dry humor.

“Go. Dance a little, drink a little. See Maya. Let off some steam.”

Honestly, it sounded like exactly what she needed. The past few months had been unimaginably stressful. “Maybe I will, if you’ve got this.”

Emma waved her away, and Kate dashed back to the old farmhouse to change into some “clubbing” clothes—really, anything that wasn’t mud boots and Carhartts would do.

In the tiny cramped guest room filled with unpacked suitcases, a new wave of frustration came over her. She had to move into the house on Fairview Court. It wasn’t optional. She needed more space, and between the roosters crowing in the morning and the geese honking, she was getting grouchy.

If Project Evict Boone didn’t pan out, she’d just move into the upstairs apartment, which was empty. The upstairs space was about half the size of the downstairs because it had a huge front deck. But it would be more livable than this, and it had what she most wanted—some quiet and privacy.

To brighten her mood, she threw on a red halter top and her best pair of skinny jeans, along with her favorite sparkly, strappy dancing shoes.

Her LA life felt incredibly far away right now. But for one night, she could pretend that life wasn’t dead and gone, and that angry criminals hadn’t threatened to find her and make her pay for the deal she’d gotten her father.

A twinge of pain pulsed across her skull. No. Not a migraine, not now. Not when she was finally about to have a little fun. She took a few deep breaths and it dissipated. Thank God.

Bring on the fun! Maybe there’d even be a man to flirt with. She needed to exercise her flirting muscles. That way, if she ever met Darius the Knight in White Armor-All again, she’d be ready.

As soon as Kate laid eyes on Maya Badger, the urge to down several shots of tequila and tell her the whole sordid story of her father nearly overcame her.

But even though Maya wasn’t in uniform—a gold lamé top and black pants was definitely not her uniform—a rural police chief was never really off the job. So Kate stuck with the several shots of tequila and skipped the confession.

Even so, it was hard to fool Maya. At a rickety table crammed into a back corner of the Moose is Loose Saloon, they hugged and shouted greetings over the raucous band.

Which rocked, by the way. The second she’d walked in, the deep thump of the upright bass had grabbed her like a dance partner about to swing her off her feet.

After they both sat down, Maya began the grilling. “You never come here in April. Something’s up. Are you in trouble?”

“Oh come on, I’m not that rebellious teenager anymore.”

“Really? Naughty Kate is history?”

Kate grabbed a cut lime and bit into it so she wouldn’t have to say any more. With two Kates in their loose group of teenage friends, one had gotten the “Nice Kate” nickname, while she’d gotten the one that suited her troublemaking style.

“Okay, fine, I see you don’t want to talk. That’s okay, I have my ways.”

Kate waved a hand at her, her mouth puckering from the lime. “You can’t use your police superpowers on your best friend. That’s not cool.”

Maya raised an expressive eyebrow. She wore glittery eye shadow that made her look completely different from her on-the-job persona. “Fine. At least tell me the basics. Are you staying with Emma? Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s okay, and yes, I’m staying there for now. But we’re driving each other crazy so I’m going to move into her old house in town.”

“The one on Fairview Court?”

“Yup. But there’s a very irritating person living in it, so I’m working on evicting him.”

Maya laughed and shook her head. “Damn, Kate, look at your badass legal self. Why do you have to evict him?”

“Because it’s my house and Emma never should have rented it out, and I like my own space.”

“I’ll bet you a cocktail that you’ll end up letting him stay.” Maya gave her a knowing smile. “I know you. At heart, you’re softer than a roll of Charmin.”

“Did you just compare me to toilet paper?”

“Toilet paper is one of the best inventions in the world. Only the best people deserve to be compared to toilet paper.”

Kate rubbed at the spot between her eyebrows where tension always gathered. “Things have been crazy lately. I really just need a place where I can be alone, you know?”

Maya narrowed her perceptive brown eyes at her. “Trouble, just like I thought. Let me guess. It’s a man’s fault.”

Oh, it was definitely a man’s fault. “You’re absolutely right about that.”

“Don’t tell me you broke your own no-romance rule.”

Kate laughed at the reminder of the old rules she and her friends used to joke about all summer.

“Oh no. I’m still one hundred percent Team Sex.”

“And I’m still one hundred percent Team Romance,” a soft voice sounded in her ear. She turned to find Jessica Dixon opening her arms for a squeeze. “You’re back, Kate! Yay!” They hugged for an extended moment, rocking back and forth with the music.

Damn, that band was good. Especially the bassist. The fast-paced vibrations traveled through her, as if the musician was playing her tendons and nerves instead of an instrument.

“It’s so good to see you!” Kate told Jess as she settled into the chair Maya had saved for her. Jessica, with her soft auburn hair and angelic smile, owned the Sweet Harbor Bakery and totally looked the part of the nurturing baker—until you got to know her wild side.

As fun-seeking teenagers on those long summer days, Kate had definitely seen her wild side.

“I fought off three longshoremen and a lumberjack for that chair,” Maya said from across the table.

“What are your police powers for if not that?” Jessica lit up with laughter. She had the best belly laugh, always had.

“Good point.” Never one to be distracted for long, Maya turned back to Kate. “I was just grilling Kate about the broken heart that brought her back to Lost Harbor in the middle of mud season.”

“Oh no.” Jessica clasped her hands together. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m fine. No broken heart.” Not that kind, anyway. “You guys know me. I’m not the heartbreak type. I’ve always relied on myself and I always will.” With a jaunty smile, Kate tossed her hair over her shoulder.

But Jessica was still eerily perceptive. “Maybe not, but there’s something wrong. Isn’t there, Maya?”

“Oh yeah. I noticed as soon as she came in and walked right past the hot bouncer.” Maya indicated him with a gesture of her head. Then her face sobered. “But seriously, Kate. If there’s something wrong, you know you can trust us.”

Kate swallowed hard. She wanted to spill all her troubles. It would be a relief to tell the whole story to her friends. But one of these particular friends also happened to be the police chief. And that complicated things.

“You want to know what’s wrong?”

“Of course. You can tell us anything.” Jessica fiddled with the woven bead bracelet on her wrist. Kate had one of those too, somewhere. So did Maya, but obviously it didn’t go with a police uniform. Jessica was the only one who still wore that relic from their teenage summers.

“What’s wrong is that this band rocks and I haven’t danced or had any fun at all in forever. And we’re sitting here talking! That’s what’s wrong. Who is this band, anyway?”

“They’re from out of state—Oregon, I think. But don’t change the subject.” Jessica shook her head at her, setting a hand on her arm to keep her in her chair. “Maybe what’s wrong is that you’re avoiding your feelings just like you always have.”

“I haven’t always avoided my feelings. Just when they try to ruin my mood.”

Maya laughed at that and tilted her shot glass for a toast. “I hear that.”

Kate downed her shot and finally felt a buzz set in. “Sorry, Jess, but you know I’m never going to be Team Talk About Your Feelings, aka Team Romance. We all decided that a long time ago.”

Sunbathing on the deck of Jessica’s family’s fishing boat, they used to discuss things like destiny and soulmates. Jess had been a believer, Kate the cynic, and Maya the neutral observer.

“People change,” Jessica insisted. “I know I’ll win you over someday. I mean, I won’t. A man will. It just has to be the right man.”

“The right man?” Kate gestured to the passing waitress for another shot. “The right man is the one who’s going to help me forget my crappy life tonight. Like whoever’s on that bass. He’s already making me forget. Anyone who can play like that can make me forget all kinds of things.”

Maya and Jessica exchanged a glance filled with something Kate couldn’t quite identify. “The bassist? Do you know who he is?” Maya asked casually.

“Doesn’t matter who he is. I don’t want to know. I’m Team Sex, remember?”

“What if he’s eighty with a beard down to his waist?” Maya teased.

Kate twisted around to peer through the crowd toward the stage. Too many people were in the way, so she stood up. Even though she was on the tall side, all she could see over the sea of bobbing heads was the neck of the bass—a hand working the strings—and a black cowboy hat.

Okay, she could work with a black cowboy hat. And that hand moved so smoothly across the strings. It was a large hand, with long fingers and a wide spread. A man’s hand.

And then the crowd shifted just enough so she could see all of him. He was a big guy, just…big. Wide in the shoulders and long in the legs. Tall and powerful and husky and fit and tall. He played standing up, bent over the upright bass, pouring all of his attention into the strings he was plucking and slapping. Along with the black cowboy hat, he wore a black t-shirt and black jeans.

She couldn’t see his face under the cowboy hat, but just then he looked up and—pow. He grinned at her—or maybe it was at the crowd in general—the kind of smile that spread across his entire face and made her want to do wild and naughty things to him.

And wait—was that—holy shit! She almost hadn’t recognized him.

She dropped back down on her seat. “I do know that guy. I mean, I don’t know him, but he pulled me out of the mud earlier today.”

“It’s destiny,” Jessica said excitedly. “Clearly there’s something going on here. He pulls you out of the mud. Then he pulls you out of your bad mood.”

“You should talk to him,” Maya agreed.

“Are you guys trying to get me into trouble?”

“At least it’s the good kind of trouble.” Maya and Jessica laughed and exchanged a high five.

Kate sucked down more tequila. It was kind of odd that her friends weren’t warning her away from the bassist. Normally they would because he was a stranger. Except he wasn’t totally a stranger, since he’d already rescued her from the mud. But maybe they agreed with her that she needed some fun. Or maybe the tequila was blurring things just enough so she didn’t care.

Was he from Oregon, like the rest of the band? If so, what had he been doing on the muddy back roads of Lost Harbor? Visiting friends or family? Sightseeing?

If he was from Oregon, what was the harm? There would be no chance of running into him at the bank or the grocery store or Gretel’s Cafe.

She could follow Maya’s suggestion and go ask him.

She hadn’t come out tonight for anything other than seeing Maya and Jessica. But life had been very challenging lately, and maybe she really did need a distraction.

Like dancing.

“Come on, you guys. Remember when we used to secretly borrow Jess’s dad’s car and drive up here to go dancing? Why are we just sitting here! Let’s move!”

She jumped to her feet and ditched her jacket.

Maya shoved her chair back and rose to her feet, already moving to the beat. “So long as no one takes any damn selfies.”

“Why are you even worried? You don’t look anything like your usual self. I didn’t even quake in my shoes when I saw you,” Kate teased her. “It’s amazing how effective that uniform is.”

“It’s not her uniform,” said Jessica, making her way to her feet. “It’s her natural authority.”

Maya froze her face into a severe frown, then relaxed it again with a laugh after Kate’s eyes widened.

“Damn. You really are good.”

“Yup. It works on everyone except the guys I happen to like. Makes them disappear.”

They all laughed as they carved out a spot on the dance floor. The crowd was a mix of couples and amorphous groups dancing together—like them. The music pulsed right through her system, lighting her up from the inside, like a switch turning on.

Kate threw her head back, letting the beat take her wherever it would. All the mess in LA faded away. It was all so far away now. Her legal career was dead. Her condo sold. Her future unknown.

And right now, none of it mattered.

Next break, she was going to tell Sir Armor-all what a magician he was. Maybe ask him where he lived.

Just then, he looked up and caught her eye. And winked. Obviously he recognized her too.

She must have made a sound, because Maya and Jessica both slowed their dancing and looked in the direction she was staring.

“Wow,” Kate breathed. “That man might make me break my biggest rule.”

Maya shot her a curious look. “Which is what?”

“Only one stupid thing a night. I already got stuck in the mud, so I’ve filled my quota. On the other hand, he’s possibly from Oregon, so maybe it isn’t all that stupid.”

She caught another of those odd glances between Jess and Maya.

“What difference does Oregon make?” Jessica asked her.

“The men here aren’t really my type.”

Maya’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Oh really? But that man up there behind that upright, he is your type?”

Kate looked at him again, her mouth literally watering. “I don’t know if he’s my type, specifically. It’s more like he’s anyone’s type. I mean, look at him. Would you kick him out of bed?”

Maya exchanged another glance with Jessica, this one filled with secret laughter. There was some kind of joke that Kate was missing here.

“I see your point. So what are you going to do about it, Team Sex?” Maya asked.

Jessica nudged her. “Did you know the owner has fishing cabins out back that he rents out?”

“Oh ho, so the Moose is Loose is for lease?”

Kate giggled at her own joke. She was pretty loose herself right about now. Loose was good. Loose was great. She felt loose and relaxed and happy, and it wasn’t just the tequila.

It was the juicy thrill of attraction. The glance across a room. The connection sizzling through the notes of that deep bass. They were dancing together, her and Sir Armor-all, even though he was still onstage. She could feel each note he played curl into her bloodstream.

After everything she’d been through lately, couldn’t she allow herself one flirtation with a smoking-hot man? Did that even count as a “stupid thing?” He’d already rescued her once. He was very likely from out of town. How risky could it be?

CHAPTERFOUR

Oh man. How was Darius supposed to concentrate on “Light My Fire” when the woman from the stuck Saab was out there dancing in that red top? And those curve-hugging jeans? And those flirtatious hair tosses?

Darius caught a glance from the band’s singer as he came close to falling behind the beat. After getting held up by the mud-rescue situation, he’d barely made it up the peninsula in time for a quick rehearsal. Luckily, they were pros, and he was pretty damn good himself, for an amateur. He used to play back in Texas, and still did when he could find someone to jam with.

Oh shit. Now the woman—Kate, he remembered—was tossing back an entire glass of something that looked like tequila. That couldn’t be good. The friends she was dancing with would probably take her home, and he wouldn’t get to lust after her from his spot behind the bass anymore.

The crowd moved, and he realized with a shock that the woman’s friends were none other than Police Chief Maya Badger and Jessica Dixon from the Sweet Harbor Bakery.

Kate was friends with the police chief.