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Ashlyn sighed, donning her “bad girl” facade, planting a hand on her hip, quirking her mouth into a carefree grin. The town expected her to be contrary, running around causing her share of tongue clucking, so why not oblige them?
Her stance hardly reflected the hurt inside. Hurt caused by years of hiding in shadows.
“It’d probably be easier for all of us if I accepted blame and said that this is pocket money. That I was just about to vandalize the Trainor property with some April Fool’s flair.”
She’d rather die than let them know her real motive. Ashlyn hadn’t known Emma’s daughter, Janey, very well, but when she’d heard that the insurance company wasn’t covering all of Janey’s hospital bills, she’d gotten angry. Outraged, as a matter of fact.
She’d figured that it’d be the proper thing to do, leaving some anonymous cash so Janey could pay for her treatments. Breast cancer was costly in more than one way.
But now, from the looks of Emma and Sheriff Reno, Ashlyn knew she had a lot more explaining to do. Fat chance. They’d never believe that a dilettante like her cared about anything. No one in town had ever believed it.
When she focused back on Emma and the sheriff, they were looking at her as if she’d sprouted a tarnished halo—and it was pierced through her nose, to boot.
Couldn’t she have thought of a more creative excuse?
The sheriff hovered over Ashlyn, making her feel about two feet tall. He stuffed the money back into her hand. “Was it too common for you to simply ring Emma’s doorbell, maybe send a check through the mail?”
She wanted to blurt out that he was missing the point. She didn’t want anyone to know that she’d done a kind deed. Ashlyn Spencer was from a greedy family, and half of Kane’s Crossing wouldn’t pay credence to the rumor of her benevolence anyway. So why try to elaborate?
Sheriff Reno ran his gaze from her head to her curling toes, his expression lingering somewhere between a half-hearted sigh of mirth and a frown of suspicion. She got the distinct feeling that he wasn’t used to smiling.
“Let’s go,” he said, as if she had stolen the money from Emma Trainor and was a certified criminal.
Emma’s eyes had softened, her hand reaching out helplessly to Ashlyn. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it with a smack.
Ashlyn felt like telling her to not apologize after all these years. It was natural to assume that she was up to no good. After all, she’d been making trouble a habit ever since her seventh year, ever since she’d stared at those cave walls and learned a hard lesson or two about life.
As she and Sam turned around to leave, Ashlyn bent and casually placed the bundle of money on the porch, not even pausing to mark Emma’s final reaction. Sam waited for her, then matched her pace as they walked away. When they were out of hearing distance, she couldn’t curb a self-protective shrug. “I suppose the fairies told me to do it, Sheriff.” She followed up with a sugar-sweet grin.
“Fairies,” muttered Sam Reno, shaking his head while he gestured toward his car.
Behind them, Emma’s porch light winked off, leaving a sense of moon-bathed quiet. “What, don’t you believe in that stuff?” she asked.
They’d moved down the lawn, toward Sam’s car. He must have cut his engine at some point, rolling the vehicle to a stop so he could sneak up on Emma and her trespasser with the utmost stealth.
You had to admire that kind of sneakiness, she thought. She would’ve done the same thing.
He hadn’t answered her flippant question, but this silence was killing her need to lighten the mood. So she continued.
“Understand, Sheriff? I’m talking about fairies, sprites, gremlins… You know gremlins are the worst. Downright mean suckers.”
More pressing subjects were obviously on his mind. “Trespassing isn’t looked on too kindly around here.”
That put Ashlyn in her place. “Okay, okay. So at the age of twenty-four, I should be doing more productive things, like sitting around in my baby dolls, popping chocolates and filing my nails. Yeah, that sounds more acceptable, more bourgeoisie. More Spencer-like.”
Night creatures serenaded them as they walked. She became very aware of her choppy breath, the feel of his large body tracking hers.
“What you did for Janey was real nice,” he said.
A sarcastic comeback tipped the edge of her tongue. Yeah, Emma fell all over herself thanking me for the trouble.
But she kept her peace, not wanting the sheriff to know how much the other woman’s judgmental first impression had hurt. Her unwillingness to imagine that Ashlyn could do anything decent was a slap in the face, leaving a mark as dark as her family’s reputation.
“Well, Sheriff Reno, I think you’ll find that the word ‘nice’ doesn’t exactly apply to me. Besides, I never admitted to doing anything back there.”
He stopped and looked at her, his eyes boring into her soul.
Was he a real cop? Sheriff Carson would’ve taken great umbrage at her blunt tone and shone the flashlight in her eyes in a misguided power trip. He would’ve hauled her into the jailhouse just for the fun of it.
She allowed her gaze to skim over Sheriff Reno’s hard body. Let’s see, he’d been two years ahead of Chad, her esteemed brother, in high school…maybe he was around thirty-three.
In her younger years she’d enjoyed making Sheriff Carson chase her around a little, just to get his goat. But this sheriff was in shape, would catch her in a minute flat. Not that being caught by him would be a horrible thing.
She grinned, her heart beating a little faster. He wasn’t bad for a thirty-three-year-old. As far as she could see, he had long legs, a flat stomach, arms and shoulders that filled his jacket to great effect…
Wouldn’t her father kill her if she got involved with Sam Reno, the foster brother of Nick Cassidy, the man who’d ruined her family?
The whole town had gotten into quite a snit when Nick had strutted right into Kane’s Crossing to give her once-wealthy father and brother, Chad, a taste of their own medicine. While both men had been in Europe, Nick had taken over the Spencers’ businesses, given them to the poor families in town, teaching her own family a lesson about compassion. Not that the Spencers had learned anything from the debacle. Even now, starch-collared lawyers were scrambling to get back their old properties, to place them back on their self-imposed throne.
And they’d been partly successful, too. The Spencers now had control of their toy factory again, a business they’d sneaked in and purchased with the cunning common to a snake.
She didn’t like to be thought of as a snake. Being a normal citizen in Kane’s Crossing would’ve suited Ashlyn just fine.
Sam Reno himself would probably end up with a girl from a normal family—one who reminded him of home-cooked dinners, hand-knit sweaters and white-lace kitchen aprons.
She had to admit though—he was tempting. Her stomach tingled just thinking about snuggling into his jacket, next to his chest, his arms enveloping her with strength.
Then again, Sam had his reasons for hating the Spencers. And he’d probably arrest her out of pure disdain if he could read her thoughts.
She tried to ignore the way his gaze combed over her, the way it slammed her heart against her ribcage. She started walking toward his car, sorry that she hadn’t taken her own vehicle out for a cruise tonight.
His voice surged from behind her. “Are you still in college?”
Ashlyn grinned at the small talk, tossing her words carelessly over her shoulder. “Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Say, you’re just giving me a ride home, right? No arrests for trespassing or anything?”
She heard him shifting around his utility belt, adjusting his squawking walkie-talkie. For a minute she thought maybe he was going to cuff her.
“Please, Sheriff. I’ve got all the silver jewelry I’ll ever need.”
His long steps caught him up with her, and he stuck out his hand, car keys jangling. “We’re just going to my office.”
“You are arresting me?”
At this point, her golden-boy brother would’ve whipped out his business card, would’ve asked the new sheriff if he realized whom he was dealing with. But Ashlyn had never been held in the same esteem as her worshipped brother. Not by the town, thank goodness. And not by her parents.
Did Sam Reno want to make himself look good in front of an upstanding citizen like Emma Trainor? Well, he sure was doing a fine job of carrying out his sheriffly duties.
Sam Reno chuckled, even though she wasn’t sure what was so funny.
She said, “You’ve been living for this moment your whole life, haven’t you, Sheriff? You’ve just been chomping at the bit to arrest a Spencer.”
Darkness traveled his face, drawing down the edges of his lips, eclipsing the moonlight.
Ashlyn knew she’d opened her mouth one too many times.
Spencer.
The name ripped through his body with razor-blade agony. Seven years ago Sam’s father had died in the Spenco Toy Factory under mysterious circumstances. That death had killed his mother, too, from stress and heartbreak. And it’d changed Sam’s life. For the worse.
He watched Ashlyn Spencer, assessing the daughter of his worst enemy. She was surrounded by a bleak sky of looming clouds, a drab field of grass. The palette of his life. Even the road running past Emma Trainor’s home was empty and desolate.
But Ashlyn herself was a splash of colors—from her bright red sweater to the green and purple string of party beads dancing around her wrist.
Sam tried to feel unaffected as a cloud passed over the moon, almost as if the darkness wanted to hold on to her light for a minute more. She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaunty sweater bellying her obvious agitation.
He decided that the best course of action would be to ignore her comment about arresting a Spencer. “Why’re you still in Kane’s Crossing, Miss Spencer?”
“Why did you come back to Kane’s Crossing?” she asked, dodging his question.
He knew they were at a verbal stalemate, so he decided to get this business over and done with. After a moment of heavy silence, he reached out a hand to her. “Let’s go.”
“To the sheriff’s office?”
“It’s a hell of a lot warmer than keeping the ghosts company.” He allowed his hand to remain, hovering in the air, more of a command than a request.
Maybe he shouldn’t even be hauling her in like this, but he’d heard about Ashlyn’s propensity for trouble. Better to let her know that the new sheriff meant business. Better to put the fear of the law into her now than later. He could explain himself at the station, where he had the persuasive image of jail cells to back up his warning lecture.
Ashlyn scanned his body again. The first time she’d done it, Sam had merely chalked up the action to curiosity. This time his pulse pounded, awakening feelings he’d packed away over a year ago. Feelings his dead wife had numbed.
He gave Ashlyn Spencer a moment to hesitate, not wanting to make this more serious than it was. She’d been giving money to Emma Trainor, by God. Not only was it an act of someone with a soft heart, but this call was a joke next to the blood and chaos he’d seen as a cop in Washington, D.C.
Wiping away his memories, Sam concentrated on his current problem. Ashlyn took a step forward, the moonlight covering her pixie-featured face with a veil of silver, producing a glimmer in her eye, in her slight smile.
Her forced gaiety made him feel sorry for her, this young woman who’d been called on the carpet for trying to help Emma’s family. But the Trainors, like many other people in Kane’s Crossing, had been hurt by Ashlyn’s kin. Had been stung by their greed time and again.
Her reputation didn’t stop him from thinking that Emma had treated Ashlyn unfairly. Had judged her for the company she kept, rather than her actions.
Hell, he could use some of his own advice. Nobody could accuse him of liking the Spencers, especially since they’d been responsible for his father’s death.
Sam watched her again as they resumed walking. She’d cut her hair, from what he remembered, which wasn’t much. It’d gone from a long waterfall in her younger years to a sandy, short cut, tufts sticking out from her head as if she was a woodland version of Tinker Bell from a book he’d bought for…
Never mind who he’d bought it for. He’d come to Kane’s Crossing to forget about it.
They headed toward the patrol car, a gas-guzzling white Chevy behemoth that had seen better years.
“Lovely. Do I get the back seat,” she asked, a hint of laughter in her voice, “where all the criminals languish?”
He held open the passenger’s side front door in answer. She slid in, all grace and smooth curves. Years ago, she would’ve filled the definition of “coltish,” but now, the term seemed outgrown.
Sam took his place behind the steering wheel. The occasional beep and burst of static from the police radio was the only sound as he tamped down his urge to look at her again. Another glance at Ashlyn Spencer would frustrate him, make him want things he didn’t have a prayer of finding.
After he guided the car onto the silent country road, he saw Ashlyn lean her head back against the headrest.
Suddenly he was much too aware of her scent, a combination of innocence—almonds, honey and cream. Something in his chest tightened, almost sputtered to life then died.
“So, do you want to explain this lionhearted quest of yours?” he asked, filling in the blank spaces of their conversation.
She hesitated, then lifted up her hands in a what-the-heck movement. “It’s all pretty complicated, but…” She turned to face him, still resting her head. “Do you remember, years ago, when my family owned just about everything in town?”
He remembered with sharp clarity. “Yeah. I don’t think your brother ever let my family forget.”
Especially after the way Chad Spencer had treated Nick’s wife, Meg, like a pleasure toy. Rumor had it that Chad had gotten Meg pregnant after making her think he loved her. That’s when Nick had stepped in, claiming the resulting twins as his own children.
“Obviously you’ve talked with Nick,” said Ashlyn, a faint smile lighting her face. “He really gave it to Chad good by buying those businesses and turning them over to those families in need. And my brother deserved it, even if I ended up feeling pretty sorry for him in the end. It’s not easy having everything that matters taken away from you.”
Everything that mattered: his parents, his wife…
“Go on.” He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, relieving the tight white of his knuckles, wondering why Ashlyn was still smiling. Could it be that she disagreed with how the Spencers had ruled over Kane’s Crossing? Even when Sam had lived here, the town gossips had whispered that she ran around town, causing mischief, just to get back at her family for their zealous ways.
Sam didn’t understand the concept, but it sure intrigued him.
Ashlyn continued. “To make a long story short, my family aims to get back all that they’ve lost. And I don’t care to return to those days when the Spencers ruled.”
Puzzlement shaped Sam’s frown. “Why do you cause so much trouble for that family of yours?”
She clipped a laugh. “If you’d talked to Sheriff Carson before he died, he would’ve told you that I make mischief a habit. Simple as that.”
Sam knew there was something more to it, but he doubted she’d reveal her intentions to him.
“At any rate,” she said, “I can’t stand the way some people in this town treat the Spencers like the second coming. And I don’t like how my family feels the need to own people in return.” She sat up, emphasizing the gravity of her explanation. “I’ll do almost anything to discourage this football-hero worship, this money-god thrall that my brother and father have encouraged.”
Sam wondered how her family felt about her protests. Funny, but he’d never looked at Ashlyn the way he had at Chad or her father Horatio Spencer. She’d always seemed to isolate herself. He’d never realized it until now, probably because he hadn’t cared enough to bother.
Ashlyn asked, “You know that we own the toy factory again?”
That razor sting assaulted his soul once more. “I’d heard about it.” Even if he’d moved back to Kane’s Crossing merely two months ago, folks had made sure he was caught up on all the gossip he’d missed—old and new.
“I have a bad feeling that my father’s not down for the count. He’ll take over everything again, and then Kane’s Crossing is back to the dark ages.”
Sam shook his head. “What about the citizens who own the properties now? I don’t think they’ll let that happen.”
He could feel Ashlyn’s appraisal of him, and he wondered if she knew why he’d come back to town after slinking away seven years ago, following his parents’ deaths.
“It doesn’t matter if the ‘new regime’ wants it or not. My father will be back in the game, Sheriff, buying all the properties he lost. He can’t stand the lack of power.” She clipped a laugh. “I wonder what my ancient granddad would say about all this. Founder of the town, the great Kane Spencer. You know he wanted Kane’s Crossing to be a communal area, right?”
“I didn’t know.” Sam leaned one elbow on the armrest, using the other to palm the steering wheel around a sharp corner. Casual. Be casual about this Spencer talk. “Then I guess I’ll be out of a job when your dad stretches his mighty muscles again.”
“He’d get you fired in a second flat,” she said in her colorfully blunt manner. “My family certainly holds no love for yours.”
