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“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…
Chapter Two
If Penelope had felt restless before, Aidan’s brief touch upgraded the emotion to chaos. A heart-stopping awareness that toyed with her body temperature and cut the bottom out of her stomach, made her feel like a stranger to herself.
Oh, she’d always thought Aidan attractive. Very attractive. But she had never before linked herself to him in the same sentence, as in “Aidan and I.” She hadn’t dared.
Now her mind was going a million miles a minute doing just that.
He smiled at her as if he knew what she was thinking, and her pulse leaped.
“I just came by for some more of that tea you made for me the other day, Penelope,” Sheriff Parker was saying as he took off his hat. “I usually don’t go in for that kind of stuff, but, well, I liked it.”
It seemed to take a great deal of effort to tug her gaze away from Aidan’s face. “Sure. I’ll just put some water on to boil.”
“Sheriff.” She heard Aidan greet the other man as she plugged in her electric teapot, then eyed the tins of herbal teas on the shelf behind her. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember what tea she had fixed for Cole.
“Aidan,” Cole said back.
“How’s everything across the Circle this morning? Any new crimes to report?”
A simple question. But when an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming, Penelope looked over her shoulder to find Cole running his fingers through his hair, obviously troubled.
“Funny you should ask that. Something strange did happen last night.”
Penelope settled on green tea with a hint of ginseng and measured a few spoonfuls into a small teapot. She turned to put some prepackaged raspberry biscuits onto a plate, tuning in to an odd kind of tension emanating from Cole. He seemed to be eyeing Aidan in a curious way.
Cole finally sighed. “Old Man Smythe’s filling station was hit last night. He was robbed at gunpoint.”
