Caught in the Frame Page 2

  * * *

  Sugar and Spice, the names much too mild for the antics of Chloe’s pair of Siamese kittens, wreaked pandemonium every time Nate walked into the house. They’d taken an instant liking to the man, who gave them warm snuggles and unending chin scratches. Now, the sound of something crashing to the floor—most likely something from a shelf the kittens knew was off limits—let Chloe know he had just stepped through the front door. Shaking her head over the possible loss of another tchotchke, Chloe didn’t move to greet him. Instead, she lounged on her bed, clad in a hot pink babydoll nightgown that threatened the line between sexy and slutty. Chloe had spent a solid hour wrapping her long, flowing blond hair in curlers to achieve a soft, windblown look. Her bright, almond-colored eyes were sheathed by long, thick lashes; her full lips coated in a shiny, but not sticky, gloss.

  “In here!” She called, as Nate searched the front rooms to no avail. When he wandered into the bedroom doorway and almost dropped a purring Sugar in surprise, Chloe knew how squarely she had hit her mark. As her eyes raked over his adorably-messy chestnut hair, to his strong, scruffy jaw, and down his sculpted, muscular body, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman on earth. She knew, after the ordeal they had endured in order to be with one another, that he felt the same.

  No words were necessary, but a strangled wow sighed from him before Nate sprang onto the bed and began kissing her breathless. Her hands tangled in his hair as she pulled him close, all other thoughts forgotten as she focused solely on the perfect man she couldn’t stop touching. An hour and a half later, when they emerged from the bedroom in search of sustenance, Chloe remembered she had news of great importance to impart.

  “There was a late night…well, technically an early morning development, and I’ve got news.” Chloe figured Nate would be willing to attend Lila’s wedding, but wasn’t sure if, with his work schedule, it was realistic for him to take an extended vacation. It hurt to think of him anywhere but by her side; they had wasted too much time being stubborn, and she didn’t relish the idea of being separated from him now. Not to mention that, even though they had been friends for years, it might be too early in their relationship to broach the subject of a lengthy vacation that included her mother.

  Having lived practically in each other’s pockets as children, Chloe and Nate’s relationship as friends meant he and Lila were familiar with each other on those terms. It was one thing, though, to be Nate—the kid who does stuff with your daughter, and quite another to be Nate—the man who does stuff with your daughter. That he might not be ready for that particular scenario was just hitting her now.

  Nate looked concerned as a flash of uncertainty scrolled across Chloe’s face. “What news?” he asked with trepidation.

  While Chloe explained everything, from Lila’s phone call down to the worry that inviting him to tag along was premature, Nate’s expression morphed through surprise to excitement, and finally amusement. “Love, I have been waiting for and wanting this for a very long time. It doesn’t feel too soon to me; of course I’ll go! Give up a chance to spend two weeks in an Irish castle with you, just because we haven’t technically been together for very long? Not gonna happen; I’m in.”

  Relieved, Chloe threw her arms around Nate’s neck and gave him another lingering kiss. “What about work, though?”

  “Dalton can handle things around here, and I’ll put the Gilmore department on alert; it’ll be fine. Nothing bad ever happens in Ponderosa Pines, right?”

  Chloe snorted at that. The recent murder of Evan Plunkett had taken the shine right off the town’s unofficial motto.

  “Good. Because boy, do I have plans for us! Massages, Jacuzzi suite, hiking, a couple of day trips. We’re going to have an amazing time!”

  “I imagine we’d have an amazing time if we never left the room.” Nate flashed a mischievous grin and cocked an eyebrow; the implication, and the fact that he looked dead sexy doing it, caused a ripple of desire to run from the top of Chloe’s head to the tips of her pink-painted toenails.

  “Of that, I’m sure. Which is why I booked us an extra week at a private cottage in Galway after this is all done.” Chloe’s satisfied grin was answered with a gaping one from Nate, who did a little dance, picked Chloe up, and spun her around in a circle.

  “I freaking love you!” He practically shouted, then threw her over his shoulder, Chloe’s laughter trailing behind as he headed back to the bedroom.

  Chapter 2

  If she had her way, EV Torrence would send Murphy and his stupid law straight down the intention-paved road to hell where they belonged. Why was it when Dalton Burnsoll was the last person on earth she wanted to see, he seemed to be lurking around every corner, but when she actually needed to talk to him he pulled a disappearing act worthy of Houdini?

  Even considering her lack of experience at relationships—and their present status as a quasi-couple—EV knew full well there was a rule against not telling him in person she had just made plans to fly halfway around the world.Tracking him down before someone else clued him in that she’d be spending the next two weeks in Ireland had launched her into what felt like a game of Whackamole.

  There was no doubt Chloe had already spoken to Mindy and Veronica, which meant the information was well on its way though the town grapevine. Growling in frustration, EV hit speed dial for the second time. When his phone went to voicemail again, she debated whether she was annoyed enough to just text him and be done with it, or to go out looking for him.

  Technically, she was a free agent, since they’d agreed to put their relationship on hold while they dealt with the nasty situation involving Remy Vincent. Technically, she didn’t have to report to Dalton Burnsoll—or anyone else—if she wanted to go out of town. Technically didn’t mean squat, though, because the man mattered to her.

  Knitting bag slung over one broad shoulder, EV directed her long legs down the path toward town. Chilled November air turned each breath into a cloud of vapor as she picked up her pace from a frost-crunching walk to a slow jog. Delicate shards of frozen dew lay like powdered fairy dust over every blade of grass, every tree branch. When the sun broke through the scud of high clouds, it turned the world into a white, glittering glory that both dazzled the eye and made her thankful she had decided to walk.

  Her town, Ponderosa Pines, was a place of beauty in every season. Well, maybe not mud season—the two or three weeks when spring thaw turned rich soil wet and sloppy. Right now, on the cusp of winter, these days where the town lay under a coating of sparkling ice crystals always touched something in her. She’d traveled plenty, but had yet to find any view comparable to watching the seasons dress this small town in colors from spring greens so tender they made her jaw ache, to today’s diamond-dressed white.

  Honestly, the timing for this trip couldn’t have been worse. After two months of relative chaos, her life still wasn’t completely back to normal—and wouldn’t be until the investigation into Remy Vincent’s activities was finally concluded. What he had hoped to gain with his blackmail scheme, she couldn’t understand. Most crimes, according to every good mystery book, were committed for one of three reasons; love, money, or revenge. On that point, EV fully concurred.

  Of the three, love was the wild card, often intertwined with the other two. Given Remy’s extended absence, money had seemed the most likely motivator until a thorough investigation proved none of the three parties involved—Gilmore, Ponderosa Pines, or Remy—stood to gain anything in a monetary sense.

  Boasting just over the minimum number of residents to qualify for town status, some 560 souls called Ponderosa Pines home. That number included pets and farm animals. From its humble beginnings as a commune in the sixties, one thing never changed—the dedication of every resident to living gently on the land. By town charter, each home or business must be constructed using a portion of recycled materials, and must also satisfy elevated codes for energy efficiency.

  To the novice eye, homes built from alternative me
ans—cordwood, rammed earth, straw bales, recycled tires, and even underground bunkers—looked like a crazy collection of rustic backwoods junk. However, underneath the town’s simple exterior beat the heart of innovation. Cutting edge solar and wind technology powered the entire town with plenty to spare, but not enough to become a cash cow worth exploiting.

  That left revenge. On a whole town, though?

  Pondering that question, EV hit the end of the trail. A quick glance showed Dalton’s truck in its customary spot in front of the small office he currently shared with Nate. She’d forgotten about him. Now that Chloe and Nate had finally gotten out of their own way and become an item, he was the weakest link in the gossip chain to Dalton.

  In the rush to get this whole thing over with, EV stepped into the office without preamble. She’d no more than cleared the door when a triangle of folded paper bounced off her chest. Startled, she looked up to see sheepish grins mirrored on the faces of two grown men who’d been playing paper football during their working day.

  “Don’t let me interrupt the playoffs,” her gaze fell on Dalton. “I can see this is more important than answering your phone.”

  The size of the office left little room for guest seating; EV was too keyed up to sit anyway, so she remained just inside the door, shifting from one foot to the other.

  Dalton reached over to pluck a rice-filled plastic zipper bag from the shelf next to his desk. He shook the bag to reveal his phone amid the white grains. “My phone got wet.” From the way his eyes landed everywhere but on hers, she assumed there was a longer, and probably unflattering story to go along with the bald statement.

  He didn’t offer details, so she blurted out in a rush, “I wanted to tell you I’m going to Lila’s wedding. I’m sure Nate already told you.” She glowered at the man in question, “but I wanted you to hear it from me.” Hot blood rushed to her cheeks. She’d rather stick her arm in a bag of rattlesnakes than try to follow the tangled threads of her emotions when it came to Dalton Burnsoll. Right now, she couldn’t remember which one of them had suggested putting their relationship on hold for the time being.

  “Thank you for letting me know.” The words sounded stilted and stupid to Dalton, but they were the best he could do at the moment, so he turned the conversation to the work aspect. “Nate will be in constant contact; I’ll stay here to hold down the fort and tug what few lines we have on Remy. If I don’t see you again before you leave...” Dalton stood, reached to give her a hug, but halfway there thought better of it and lamely patted her arm instead. He cleared his throat to finish the statement, but nothing came out.

  “I’ll let you get back to work, then.” EV injected a healthy dose of sarcasm into the word, but softened the rebuke with a tentative smile. With a few notable exceptions, Ponderosa Pines was pretty quiet from a law enforcement standpoint. Dalton could easily handle things while they were gone.

  * * *

  Late to knitting group after her detour into Awkwardville with Dalton, EV took a seat beside Chloe, whose nimble fingers worked a flashing set of needles to produce stitch after perfect stitch. It was enough to make EV want to stab her own eye out. Chloe smirked when EV pulled the elephant gray blob of inexpertly rendered work from her bag. “Laugh it up, Missy, but this is going to be your Christmas present.” EV muttered.

  “What’s it supposed to be?” Chloe asked with a pained expression on her face. “Looks like a pile of gargoyle crap.”

  “It’s a hat.”

  “Well, you should shoot it and put it out of its misery.” Chloe grinned. The truth was, if EV gave her the hat, Chloe would wear it. That’s what you did when your best friend made something for you. Even if it was the ugliest garment in the history of knitting.

  “Keep it up, and I’ll make you a matching pair of mittens.”

  Priscilla Lewellyn’s quiet chuckle did not go unnoticed, but it was her outfit that earned her a raised eyebrow from EV. Owner of Thread, the fabric store where knitting group was held, Priscilla’s everyday wardrobe consisted of items worked by her own hand—generally using specialty yarns with a fuzzy or nubby texture. Today’s dress, exquisitely crafted from variegated boucle yarn in a mix of fall colors, would have been fine on its own. It was the addition of some sort of collar apparatus that made the outfit go wrong. Ruffled around the edges, it looked like an old fashioned doily knit from the feathers pulled off of a wild pheasant. From that bit of fluff rose Priscilla’s slim-to-the-point-of-skinny neck, which, along with her prominent nose, conjured the vision of a Thanksgiving turkey in EV’s head. It wasn’t the most charitable of thoughts, and yet she couldn’t shake the image.

  “Speaking of mittens,” Talia Plunkett took the opportunity to change the subject, “I was thinking it might be a good idea to add a few pairs of stockings to the borrow boxes this year.” The borrow boxes, a Ponderosa Pines innovation, held books for trade during summer months, and hats, mittens, and scarves during the winter—no trade necessary. “I’d be happy to donate several pairs to kick things off.”

  With a little too much time on her hands after her husband’s accidental death, Talia had turned to knitting. With a vengeance. Now she had a plastic tote filled with two dozen pairs of orphaned stockings.

  “How is that speaking of mittens?” Talia’s sister, Lottie Calabrese, sneered.

  “Shut up, Lottie.” Luther’s death had somehow shortened Talia’s patience and strengthened her spine. Once inclined to kowtow to her sister’s acid tongue, she now waded in with a will. Stories of their epic public battles were gaining legendary status.

  To stop this one in its tracks, Chloe blurted, “EV and I are leaving for Ireland on Wednesday. We’ll be gone for a couple of weeks.”

  Her ploy worked; requests for more information bombarded Chloe.

  “My mother’s getting married.” She tried for cheerful, but couldn’t quite keep the edge of disgust from her tone. “Some guy she met a few months ago. Javier something or other.”

  “Tell her I hope she’ll be very happy.” Priscilla chirped. “It’s too bad she never comes home.”

  “Well, she would, if EV would just cooperate.” Waggling eyebrows followed by doe-eyed innocence met EV’s pointed glare.

  All eyes turned toward EV who, to her great embarrassment, blushed. “Lila has vowed not to set foot in Ponderosa Pines until she can attend my wedding to Dalton.”

  A chorus of female whoo noises erupted.

  “Is that a possibility?” The light of creative genius danced in Priscilla’s eyes and EV pictured herself walking down the aisle in some knitted fantasy of a dress. Trouble was, most of Prissy’s creations tended toward her own tastes, and EV really didn’t fancy looking like Mother Goose. That this was her biggest worry, and not the actual idea of marrying Dalton—or anyone for that matter—escaped her notice entirely.

  “Considering we’ve been on two dates, I think you can hold off on renting the hall just yet.”

  “Three,” Chloe corrected, earning a lifted eyebrow from EV. “If you consider a night of torrid passion a date, then that makes three.” The blush intensified.

  “Two—three, doesn’t mean anything.” EV changed the subject to something that didn’t make her feel shivery with dread and anticipation at the same time: the town Yule celebration. She rummaged through her yarn bag before pulling a spiral bound notebook from where it had slid to the very bottom; yarn tangled through the binding. Several seconds passed while she freed the book, stuffing the offending strands back into the mess. EV tossed the notebook onto the coffee table. “Can I count on you ladies to take care of things while I’m gone?”

  Lottie’s eyes lit with anticipation. A self-styled decorating diva, she itched to put her own spin on one of the town’s most-loved traditions. With two recent deaths and an invasion of Sasquatch hunters behind them, the town could use a little fun and celebration. Lottie and Talia went for the book at the same time, but it was Allegra Worth who snatched it from the table first.

  When Alleg
ra’s husband killed Evan Plunkett for sleeping with his wife, everyone expected Allegra to leave town in shame. Instead, she had not only stayed, but shed much of her haughty demeanor and become even more involved with her neighbors.

  “You two will fight over everything, and nothing will get done.” It was no less than the truth. “I’ll take point on this one.” She turned entreating eyes toward EV. “You can count on me.”

  “Text or email if you have questions,” and EV left it at that.

  * * *

  “Take care of my babies.” Chloe murmured to Talia, who had, along with her new obsession with knitting, begun a slow descent into crazy cat lady territory. In fact, Sugar and Spice were two of Talia’s rescue kittens—forced, lovingly, onto Chloe by the only person she would tolerate such insolence from—EV. Fortunately, Chloe had fallen in love with the two rascals, though she suspected they were more crazy about Nate than they ever had been about her. Not that she could blame them.

  Chloe struggled up Talia’s front walkway; a cat carrier in one hand, a bag of supplies in the other. The task would have been simple if both kittens hadn’t crawled to the very back of the enclosure, upsetting the handle’s center of gravity. Talia reached for it, pulling the two angry kittens from their prison. Sugar made a beeline for her favorite perch: a stone shelf set high into the living room fireplace.

  “We’ll be juuust fine, won’t we, luvvie?” Talia asked Spice; his ears flattened disdainfully in response to the baby talk. Neither kitten seemed thrilled to be shuffled back to Talia’s cat menagerie, but Chloe knew Talia was the only person who wouldn’t mind taking them for the near month-long period she would be away.

  “Thanks a mil, Tallie. You’re a life saver.”

  “You can thank me by taking as many photos of this shindig as you can manage. The whole town’s jealous we can’t come along. I’m guessing it will be quite the event.”