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The words had barely left Mick’s mouth when Calen’s phone dinged with another call. “Sasha,” Calen grumbled when he saw the caller’s name. He didn’t answer it but rather stayed on the line with Mick.
“Folks are curious about the letters,” Mick went on. “And pissed off Waylon did something like this. I suspect some are worried, too, because there might be some secrets and such in those letters and packages.”
“Secrets and such,” Calen repeated, eyeing the daddy letter again. “Yeah, there could be.” He dragged in a long breath. “What’s bad news number five?”
“There was a problem with the mistletoe ball,” Mick said.
That caused Emmy to frown. The Mistletoe Ball wastheholiday party in a town jammed with parties and other seasonal celebrations. But despite her sour mood over the cheating anniversary, the ball was important since it raised money for her favorite cause, children’s literacy.
Thanks to the proceeds, the town library would be able to add dozens of books to the children’s reading area. Some might think that’d be competition a bookstore owner wouldn’t endorse, but Emmy just wanted the kids to read, whether they got the books from her or elsewhere.
“Not a problem with the party but the actual ball,” Mick went on. “The big mirrored disco one that hangs over the dance floor. It fell, probably because of all the lights and mistletoe that had been strung on it.”
“Did anyone get hurt?” Calen asked.
“Just minor stuff. Pieces of the ball flew off and nicked a few people. Including the mayor,” Mick added, a smirk in his voice. “He was bent over at the time picking up something he dropped, and a sharp bit of the ball smacked him in the butt. Tore right through his pants and nicked his left ass cheek.”
Even though her ex, Owen, had remained as mayor, his name was pretty much mud, and folks were not expecting him to be reelected the following year. It was petty of Emmy to be happy about that, happy about the butt nick as well, but she had earned some petty points after what Owen had done.
“You need me down at the civic center?” Calen asked.
“Nope. I’ve got it. You just keep dealing with the mail. Oh, and when you do come across secrets and scandals, give me the details,” Mick added with an amused chuckle.
Calen, who was clearly the opposite of amused, made a noncommittal sound and ended the call. He also ignored the next incoming call after grumbling, “It’s Sasha, again.”
Emmy didn’t want to know why his ex-fiancée was calling, but it was possibly to complain about Owen’s butt injury. Maybe Sasha thought Calen could have prevented it.
Or had arranged for it to happen. There was plenty of bad blood among the four of them, but Calen wouldn’t have done that. Emmy wouldn’t have arranged it either, but she would have had a good belly laugh since Owen had exposed that very butt cheek on the same night he’d been caught cheating with Sasha.
Calen’s phone continued to ding with more calls and texts. Emmy didn’t see who these were from, and Calen didn’t respond. He just sat there eyeing the letters, no doubt considering the firestorm their discovery was causing in the community. The firestorm it was causing in him, too, because although Waylon hadn’t been the friendliest sort, she’d never known him to break the law.
She glanced at Calen, trying to figure out how she could help him. Hurting for him, too. Of course, Emmy was also worrying about the daddy letter and the one she’d taken from the mail bag before Calen had even gotten a chance to see it.
Did that mean she, too, was breaking the law?
Maybe. After all, once she’d put the letter in the mailbox, it was no longer hers but rather the property of the post office until it reached its destination. And that destination was the house where Calen had lived.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him. Calen was studying her. “I mean other than the obvious.”
A whole boatload of words came to mind:liar,thief, andinterferer with a police investigation. Which she technically was. She cursed the guilty conscience that was already nibbling away at her.
“Have you ever played what-if?” she asked.
Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that response because Calen’s forehead bunched up. “Is this about the daddy letter?”
“No. Maybe,” she amended when she realized the can of worms she was about to open. “It’s just . . . I was thinking about finding out information that might possibly change . . . everything.”
She saw confusion in his eyes. Because of that whole kindred-spirits connection Calen and she had, he probably thought she was talking about Owen and Sasha. That was no doubt why he sighed, moved closer to her and offered her some of his whiskey. She refused the booze but accepted the arm Calen slipped around her.
Of course, it wasn’t the first time he’d offered her his shoulder, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d latched on to the comfort he so willingly gave her. But it wasn’t only comfort she felt. Nope. For the past year when she’d used his shoulder, she had felt the stirrings of the heat that had started stirring way back in high school.
The stirrings that had prompted her to send him that letter.
The heat had come and gone over the years, never totally cooling. It was always there, her own secret crush. Or rather secret lust. But lately, since the Owen/Sasha debacle, Emmy had thought Calen might be experiencing something similar.
Like now, for instance.
When he looked at her and their eyes met. Then,wham. The heat definitely sizzled. In fact, she was surprised there weren’t little cartoon lightning bolts striking between them. Bolts that warmed her from head to toe, concentrating in the center of her body.
