“More like hide from.”
This week alone, she’d almost run into Deryn Crowhart twice. Almost. Once it was Rhiannon who served as the pretext to turn away and talk for half an hour about the ongoing restorations of the former Atelier—or Crow & Cat, as it had been called, with plans to rename it to Crow, Cat, & Possum. Paloma thought it was a bit too much, but what the hell. The possum was indeed cute, so why not give her a place on the new shop sign?
The second time, she’d had no one to use as a human shield, and so she ducked into the bookstore and watched as Deryn swaggered—there was no better word for the damnedest way the woman walked—and for some reason had to speak to or wave hello or hug every single person in the street.
“The curse of the Crowharts.” The voice sounded right behind her, and Paloma did her absolute best not to jump.
Why was everyone so sneaky these days?
Her reaction must’ve been visible because Prudence Fowler laid a gentle hand on her forearm. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been speaking to you for a few minutes now, and I was so certain you heard me.”
There was a smile on the woman’s face, a serene, calm one. One that spoke of a happiness Paloma felt too alien to understand.Lovewas too alien for her to understand, she mentally corrected herself. And yet, here love was, staring at her with kind, gentle eyes filled with peace and quiet joy from gray depths.
“No, I’m the one who should apologize. I’m a bit lost in my own thoughts.” She moved subtly, and the fingers on her sleeve fell away immediately. Dazed by love or not, the younger Fowler was perceptive.
“It’s a busy season for you, I imagine. The election is around the corner, and so are the holidays. I’m hearing a lot about the celebrations scheduled at the Astronomy Resort. Rhiannon wants to book us a few days of the spa package. We both thought the name ‘Sparry Nights’ was ingenious.” The smile bloomed wider, and if Paloma didn’t genuinely like this woman, she’d have found this entire ordeal sickeningly sweet. As it was, she happened to appreciate the guts it took to go against one’s father. To stand on principle. And to do so loudly.
Paloma was not privy to all the details of what had occurred in October between the Fowlers and the Crowharts, but she’d seen Prudence’s brave action firsthand. Paloma had been the first to get on the scene as the Atelier was burning, and Prudence looked like she had just run out of it with the pets in her arms. Yes, very brave.
Prudence’s smile did not waver when she pointed back to the street in front of them, beyond the bookstore’s windows.
“I was speaking of Deryn earlier. The Crowharts are very different, and yet all share the same trait. A curse, you could even call it. They’re ridiculously popular. And this one?” Pru’s smile turned mischievous. “This one is just ridiculous all on her own. A celebrity baker. You know, I thought it was some kind of nonsense, as I don’t watch reality TV or cooking competitions, but seeing her walk around town? Her notoriety and her charm? It’s like a female version of Brad Pitt inLegends of the Fall. Ridiculous is the best word to describe it. Men and women alike just go completely gaga over her.”
“Should that not be Nicole Kidman, then?” Paloma looked at the redhead who was now mobbed by what looked like a crowd of teenagers. Prudence gasped.
“Oh my god, I see what you mean. In herFar and AwayandMoulin Rougedays? All crazy red hair and sass? Oh, yes. Cut it short, add a streak of pink and army boots, and there you have it. You’re so right. Just as ridiculously attractive.”
Paloma wanted to nod in agreement, but then her brain caught up with what Prudence was saying.
“I don’t know about that last part, but I agree with the ridiculousness. Nobody needs to be high-fiving, or whatever it is that woman is doing with all those kids.”
“Well, my dad wouldn’t because they don’t vote. So, they didn’t matter to him, but Deryn isn’t running for mayor, so all that engagement from her? It’s real. She genuinely likes people and connects with them honestly. I am quite envious that it comes so easily to her. Connecting. All the talking to people with no self-serving reason to sell them something or win their votes.”
Paloma felt the sting of the reprimand come through loud and clear, but then Prudence reached out again, though this time she stopped an inch or so from touching her.
“I didn’t mean to offend. And you are not my father. I think you’re amazing, and what you’re doing on the island has been nothing short of phenomenal. Forgive me?”
Once more, Paloma wondered at the ovarian strength of this woman.
“I take no offense, Ms. Fowler, and I appreciate your vote of confidence.”
“Oh, you have that and my actual vote, Ms. Allende. Rhiannon’s too. If Patches and Boleyn could vote, they’d be the first to cast theirs for you.”
By the hearth, the black cat resembling a small panther was lounging on what looked like a bed of…garbage?
Prudence followed her gaze and laughed out loud.
“That’s Boleyn, and that is her nest. She and Patches are a mated couple. Recently, we’ve run into a curious development with them. You see, despite both being female, they’ve decided it’s time for babies. Whether they think they’re having kittens or joeys is debatable.”
For a beat, Paloma just looked at Prudence, and then they both dissolved into giggles. When she finally found her breath, Deryn Crowhart had blessedly moved on and was nowhere to be seen. The cat was glaring at her. Prudence was smiling as she waved her out.
Still embarrassed to have to dodge Deryn, and how she went about said dodging, Paloma closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to claim her quickly. Yet everything in the suite—despite her having had maintenance replace every AC filter and housekeeping change every sheet, every towel, even the duvet—everything still smelled like Crowhart. Vanilla. It should be cloying—it was certainly predictable—and yet it was sweet and sensual, and damn it, it had done things to her that night when she was full of adrenaline and reckless energy and allowed herself that one mistake.
Just one mistake.
Paloma felt her heartbeat speed up as the scent evoked memories. Hot, scorching memories. Her own hand, dropping the book to the side of the bed, moved downward, lifting the silky chemise as she went. The skin felt too tight, too warm, too hungry… For a touch, for a caress, for a lick…
She could see herself coming down from the height of her first orgasm, Deryn holding her up, whispering nonsense in her ear as her long, deft fingers moved slowly in and out of her, bringing her gently down.
