Naughty All Night - Jennifer Bernard Page 0,16

clogs—her usual morning chores outfit.

Emma had lived a wild life. Her past careers included dog musher, crab fisher, city councilperson, and that was just scratching the surface. Occasionally she’d drop a casual comment about cooking at the North Slope or hitching a ride on a cargo ship that would blow Kate’s mind.

The first time Kate’s parents had sent her to Lost Harbor to stay with Emma, they’d been negotiating their divorce. Kate had been a hurt and angry pre-teen who’d had no idea such a thing as a peony farm existed.

She’d thrown herself into the summer peony harvest because it was something to do, and because she adored her grandma. Emma didn’t mind if Kate acted like a brat and dropped curse words. She seemed to understand why she got into so much trouble.

After all, Emma was a hard-core adventurer whose one marriage had lasted only long enough to have a baby girl. She’d decided at the age of sixty-five that she wanted to slow down and smell the flowers. For someone with her degree of energy, that meant buying a piece of land and creating a peony farm.

The name Petal to the Metal pretty much described her entire attitude toward life. It also paid tribute to her lifelong love of Harleys.

Emma knew that something bad had happened in LA, and she knew that it involved Kate’s dad, Frank Robinson. She even knew that Kate had come back to Lost Harbor because she was afraid. Kate had tried to spare her the details, but much of the story had slipped out.

The day after Kate had arrived, Emma had shown off her collection of firearms. “I won’t ask any questions, but just in case,” she’d said, hefting a hunting rifle in one hand. “I want you to know I’m ready.”

“Ready for what? A peony uprising?”

Even though they’d both laughed, Kate was grateful for the thought.

However, the last thing she wanted was for Emma to get into a shootout with anyone from her father’s orbit.

One more reason to move into the house on Fairview Court.

As Kate stepped out of the Saab, Emma waved her over.

Kate zipped up her jacket and picked her way across the grass in her high-heeled boots. A wandering goose honked at her as she passed.

“Juicy night?” Emma asked with a wink.

Apparently the “no questions” policy didn’t apply to the ol’ walk of shame.

“Not even close,” Kate told her. “Well, it might have been close. I did wake up in a strange bed. But the man in question was across the room asleep in a chair, so that doesn’t really add up to juicy.”

“Eh.” Emma cocked her head and made a clucking sound at one of her hens. “First late night since you got back, and no story to tell. Sure is different from your teenage years.”

Kate laughed. “Maybe I’m waiting until I’m in my own place with no nosy old lady waiting for a report. ”

“Don’t talk nonsense.” Emma scattered a handful of feed to her favorite Rhode Island Red hen. “You can’t move into town. I rented the house out.”

“Yeah, I noticed. I’m working on that, but until then, I’ll just move into the upstairs.”

“The upstairs? It needs to be redone. That’s why I haven’t rented it out. The floors need to be stripped, the—”

“Emma. I can handle all that. I’m not a princess, despite all this glamour.” She gestured wryly at her bedhead hair and wrinkled clothes. “It’s better for both of us if we’re not on top of each other. I’ll still be helping out through the harvest.”

“Such a stubborn thing you are. Don’t know where you get it from.”

“Yeah, it’s a real mystery,” Kate said wryly.

Emma turned to the hen. “You featherbrained piece of fluff, what are you waiting for? That’s an avocado peel. You love those and they cost five bucks apiece. You might as well be a tea cozy for all the brains you have.”

Kate smothered a laugh at the way her affectionate tone contrasted with her berating words. The hen didn’t seem one bit bothered, though it did deign to peck at the avocado peel.

“I’m going to change my clothes and shower off.” Her hand involuntarily went to her head, which drew Emma’s attention.

“You’re hurt?” A frown gathered on her forehead.

“Oh, just your everyday ordinary bar brawl. Flying bottles, crashing basses, that sort of thing.”

An image from last night swam to mind. Darius leaning over her with an ice pack. The impact of all that thick dark hair and those gleaming

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