Okay, so this is all for show, but who cares?
I’M KISSING SHEP!
A moment of madness takes over and I go for it. I break through a barrier of lips and teeth and have my way with his mouth just the way I’ve been fantasizing about for the last solid month.
And the best part?
Shep kisses me back with twice as much fervor.
“All right, you two,” Kadie sings from behind. “Get a room already, would you?”
We part ways as our eyes lock over one another, and I can’t help but giggle.
Shep glances over my shoulder, and I look in time to see Hilary stalking out of the place.
“I think our wicked work is done,” I whisper.
Shep gives a crooked grin as he bears those Alaskan husky eyes into mine.
“You used your tongue.” He cocks his head with amusement.
“You know what they say—play stupid games win stupid prizes.”
He shakes his head as he traces my eyebrow with his finger.
“There’s nothing stupid about you.”
“The mob and feds might beg to differ,” I whisper.
I glance back, and thankfully Kadie has done a disappearing act herself.
“I almost forgot,” I practically hiss up at him. His arms are still firmly locked around my waist, and I’m not protesting the effort. “I need to speak with my father and tell him to call off the dogs.”
“The dogs?”
I nod.
He shakes his head. “There’s no way. You’ll be documented, as in photographed. And if the feds don’t find you that way, the mob will. Their track record of hunting people down is just as good, if not better.”
The door behind us swings open, letting in a breath of fresh night air and the stale scent of Hilary Campbell right along with it.
“I’m back,” she sings, showing off a toothy smile. “Just thought I’d run out and have a little smoke.”
More like lick her wounds. I don’t smell cigarettes.
Tilly and Butch rush into the entry.
Tilly scoffs. “Well, look who’s trying to stiff us.” She slurs just enough to let me know she’s taken full advantage of Kadie’s never-ending wine glass.
“It’s been real.” Butch navigates Tilly to the door. “This woman turns into a sexy assassin after midnight. If I don’t get her home, she’s bound to take down an ego or two.”
A part of me is actually starting to like the prickly cactus. He’s only known Tilly for all of five minutes, but he’s really got her number. I guess what they say is true—
bartenders really do know everything.
Hilary belts out a laugh. “If what you’re saying is true about her, I’ll be sure to have her arrested. Don’t you worry about a thing. You can keep your hands clean.”
I suck in a quick breath.
The vision!
That was it.
I sigh up at Shep. He didn’t spill my secret after all.
Shep antes up at the register and we say goodnight to Tilly and Butch—and to the silver snake who slithers her way back to the bar she crawled out of.
Shep and I drive home to Starry Falls with a comfortable silence between us.
All night I dream of Shep Wexler and those commanding kisses.
Chapter 9
That kiss.
I’ll admit, it’s been on my mind all day, and it still hasn’t been twenty-four hours. I can’t help it. Shepherd Wexler may have been acting in an effort to shake that stage five clinger, but I was the happy recipient of Hilary’s outward rejection. And yes, I went for it toward the end of our lip-lock. Shep went for the gold himself.
But unfortunately for me, Shep and his magical kisses aren’t the only thing occupying my mind this morning. I found a note on my porch when I left my cabin this morning with the words I am watching you scrawled out in all caps. My guess is Hilary is more stalker than she is your run-of-the-mill ex-sweetheart, and she’s trying to scare me away so she can pounce with a death kill.
Sometimes I actually feel sorry for men. They see women as these sweet little things who can be easily detoured by something as cheesy as a fake engagement. They have no idea how savvy, how demented we can be when we set our minds to something, especially when it comes to matters of the heart.
That old saying the heart wants what it wants? Well, you can easily tack on that women will do just about anything to get it, including ignoring the fact the man they’re targeting is seemingly engaged.
I’ve got news for Hilary Campbell. I’ve dealt with psychotics before, so sophisticated in their man-stealing ways that it makes Hilly here look like a three-year-old trying to snatch a one hundred dollar bill out of a wrestler’s hand.
It’s not happening.
But then again, neither are Shep and I.
We’re true blue phonies. I guess I need to face it. Hilary isn’t trying to steal something that’s mine. She’s trying to steal something that I’m pretending is mine—that maybe deep down inside I’m wishing was mine.
I can’t help it. Shep is hot, smart, and a quasi-nice guy.
I’m all alone in another state, with another hair color—sort of considering the fact those Cherry Coke red highlights I gave myself in a Denny’s bathroom last month haven’t completely faded out yet.
“Bowie?”
Speaking of the handsome devil. Standing before me with that shock of dark hair, soft scruff, and daring blue eyes is Shepherd Wexler himself.
I perk to life as I straighten my apron. It’s been a long day at the Manor Café, and it’s almost time for me to help out with Stitch Witchery, Opal’s glorified knitting slash drinking club in the library. Shep’s been here for the last few hours working on his latest bestseller, and I would have gone over and sat with him, but Hilary Campbell beat me to it. That woman is harder to shake than the clap.
“Shep.” I give a noncommittal smile. “I was busy or I
