Her current career implosion was completely due to him.
But when her father—a charming but mostly harmless grifter—somehow ended up with a choice between a dire prison sentence and a vengeful ring of criminals, she couldn’t very well abandon him. She’d left her respectable law firm, represented him on her own, gotten him a sweet deal, then hightailed it out of LA to avoid her father’s former “associates.”
“Can we not go there right now, Emma?” she muttered. “Yell at me about some other stuff, why don’t you.”
Emma’s black eyes snapped at her. “Don’t mind if I do. Got a call from Maya. She says you’re ignoring her. That’s rude, and I raised you better than that.”
“Oh my God, I’m not ignoring her, I’m helping out my favorite ancestor.”
“I’m not in the ground yet. Though I did pick out a good spot the other day.”
“If you’re going to talk nonsense like that, you’re on your own tonight. I will go out clubbing with Maya.”
They both chuckled at the word “clubbing.” Lost Harbor didn’t have “clubs.” It had bars and saloons.
“Good, then she’ll get off my ass and go solve some crimes.”
“What crimes? The biggest crime here is that we have to wear these mud boots everywhere.”
“Then go change and get outta here. Have some fun.”
“Are you implying that fertilizer isn’t fun?”
“Never.”
Kate laughed at her grandmother’s dry humor.
“Go. Dance a little, drink a little. See Maya. Let off some steam.”
Honestly, it sounded like exactly what she needed. The past few months had been unimaginably stressful. “Maybe I will, if you’ve got this.”
Emma waved her away, and Kate dashed back to the old farmhouse to change into some “clubbing” clothes—really, anything that wasn’t mud boots and Carhartts would do.
In the tiny cramped guest room filled with unpacked suitcases, a new wave of frustration came over her. She had to move into the house on Fairview Court. It wasn’t optional. She needed more space, and between the roosters crowing in the morning and the geese honking, she was getting grouchy.
If Project Evict Boone didn’t pan out, she’d just move into the upstairs apartment, which was empty. The upstairs space was about half the size of the downstairs because it had a huge front deck. But it would be more livable than this, and it had what she most wanted—some quiet and privacy.
To brighten her mood, she threw on a red halter top and her best pair of skinny jeans, along with her favorite sparkly, strappy dancing shoes.
Her LA life felt incredibly far away right now. But for one night, she could pretend that life wasn’t dead and gone, and that angry criminals hadn’t threatened to find her and make her pay for the deal she’d gotten her father.
A twinge of pain pulsed across her skull. No. Not a migraine, not now. Not when she was finally about to have a little fun. She took a few deep breaths and it dissipated. Thank God.
Bring on the fun! Maybe there’d even be a man to flirt with. She needed to exercise her flirting muscles. That way, if she ever met Darius the Knight in White Armor-All again, she’d be ready.
As soon as Kate laid eyes on Maya Badger, the urge to down several shots of tequila and tell her the whole sordid story of her father nearly overcame her.
But even though Maya wasn’t in uniform—a gold lamé top and black pants was definitely not her uniform—a rural police chief was never really off the job. So Kate stuck with the several shots of tequila and skipped the confession.
Even so, it was hard to fool Maya. At a rickety table crammed into a back corner of the Moose is Loose Saloon, they hugged and shouted greetings over the raucous band.
Which rocked, by the way. The second she’d walked in, the deep thump of the upright bass had grabbed her like a dance partner about to swing her off her feet.
After they both sat down, Maya began the grilling. “You never come here in April. Something’s up. Are you in trouble?”
“Oh come on, I’m not that rebellious teenager anymore.”
“Really? Naughty Kate is history?”
Kate grabbed a cut lime and bit into it so she wouldn’t have to say any more. With two Kates in their loose group of teenage friends, one had gotten the “Nice Kate” nickname, while she’d gotten the one that suited her troublemaking style.
“Okay, fine, I see you don’t want to talk. That’s okay, I have my ways.”
Kate waved a hand at her, her mouth puckering from