Chapter Three

After grabbing a bunch of recycled white ice-cream pails with the handy wire handles from under a counter for the berries, I bolted out of the café’s front door. I stopped short then poked my head back inside. How can I have forgotten? It must have been the conversation about those darn edibles. I ignored the other, darker, part, one of my mottoes being, don’t think of something and it will go away. Eventually.

“I’ll be back by dark. Lock this door. If we start selling on our one day off, we’ll never gain it back. And I expect everything perfect for Granny’s homecoming—you hear me! And don’t forget, we still need more peanut butter cookies and chocolate cream cupcakes for tomorrow’s ’Eh Neighbor Festival. Oh, I’m working the dunking booth from one till two, so you’ll have to do without me.”

Why had I agreed to that? Now I’d be a drowned rat for the better part of the afternoon. For the sake of the town’s Christmas budget, that’s why. But least I didn’t have to kiss a mule like the postmistress did. She’d raised fifteen hundred dollars already, which was quite impressive for our small town. Dunking a McCall didn’t rate nearly as high.

“Aye aye, Captain. And be careful, Montana Jones spotted a huge black bear when she was out picking yesterday.” Tulip’s easy-going grin was quickly followed by Star’s piercing stare. Though the pair were identical in appearance, they were nothing alike, personality-wise. And I was odd girl out, having been spawned from a separate egg—or universe, apparently. We don’t even look related. The twins were fair, tanned beautifully and had light blue eyes, while I was ebony-haired with violet eyes and naturally red lips. Granny Toogood liked to say I reminded her of Elizabeth Taylor and Snow White. Now if I just had seven little people to help…

I didn’t catch Star’s mumbled words, which was probably for the best. I gave a quick look both ways down Main Street, admiring how everyone had gotten onboard this year with the new town council to give their storefronts old-world charm. Flower boxes, red cobbled pavestones, antique street lights with hanging plants, wrought-iron benches with silver plaques complementing the business that had donated them, and bright red barrels for trash gave the town a look I declared perfect.

Swinging my pails, I headed for my rusted Cherokee jeep—AKA Thor—that I’d bartered off an old trapper last year. Once I’d thrown the pails in the back, I gunned the motor and headed for the edge of town, a few blocks away at the end of Main Street and Sixth Avenue. Snowy Lake was a compact town and had added only a few more residents over the past decade, and had lost about the same. I turned onto the narrow trail leading into the forest.

I bounced along the rutted path, accompanied by the pail’s metal handles jingling merrily from the sway of the ride, the jeep’s worn-out suspension groaning and squeaking from the effort. The lack of a radio didn’t faze me. I let out a lusty chorus, thinking of my second favorite country and western singer next to my sister, the one and only Johnny Cash.

“We got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. We’ve been talkin’ ’bout Jackson, ever since the fire went out. I’m goin’ to Jackson, I’m gonna mess around. Yeah, I’m goin’ to Jackson. Look out Jackson town.”

Singing was one way to alert the black bears I was in their territory, though that didn’t mean I don’t carry my own brand of homemade pepper spray made from extra-hot chili pepper essence, concocted on the kitchen stove last winter.

I pulled off to the side of the trail near my favorite picking area, switched off the ignition and jumped out of the jeep.

Ah, nature. A bald eagle flying overhead suited my mood to a T. He wheeled majestically against the soft blues of the mid-summer sky, his white crown proof of his continued reign. Tucking my pant legs into my boots—I really hated blood-sucking ticks—I sprayed myself with bug repellent and strode over to the first saskatoon bush. The dry grass rustled with my movements, and I sneezed loudly from the assault on my olfactory nerves. Three loud sneezes. My nose was going to be red as a beet. Taking a second to swipe at it with a tissue, I pulled my high ponytail tighter at the base and surveyed this year’s crop that I’d been keeping an eye on for weeks. Aha, beat the bears to them this year.

Making sure the pepper spray was latched onto my belt, I got down to the sticky business of removing the plentiful bounty. I kept up the singing to alert the wildlife—it was better than an airhorn—changing from Jackson to Sunday Morning Coming Down by Kris Kristofferson. Though Star would have had a field day with some of the drug-reference lyrics, I loved the lonely old tune by the poet bard.

“Cause there’s something in a Sunday, makes a body feel alone. And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’, half as lonesome as the sound. On the sleepin’ city sidewalks, and Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.”

Less than two hours to fill four pails. Unbelievable. I’d have gallons of the tart deep-purple berries by day’s end. This year’s harvest turned into our best-selling brand of jelly would bring in a sweet chunk of cash. I lugged each pail back to the jeep as I filled them, not wanting to accidently knock them over and spill their precious contents into the dirt.

There came a loud snapping of branches. Darn it, unwanted company. My fingers grasped at the aerosol spray bottle at my waist. I waited for another sound to alert me to the direction of the intruder. The sun in my eyes, I squinted to survey the landscape, swiveling my head back and forth.

There.

I caught the movement of a humongous upright creature headed straight for me, plowing through the thick undergrowth and overhead canopy as though he had just one intention—to do me harm. I didn’t care if it were a huge black bear or the legendary Bigfoot. Either way, I’d strike first, with the sharp knife hidden in my boot if it came to that. I sprayed the noxious substance from the hip, directing the wide stream from my belt holster.

A loud grunt of surprise sounded. “Aww, why did you do that?” More moans of human agony followed.

Oops.

Out of the bushes stumbled a very large man—not Bigfoot, but darn close. Dressed in a black windbreaker, black jeans and extra-large combat boots, he wore a very nice black Stetson, accompanied by a full-on grimace. And oh my, when he pinned me with a look from his haunting brown eyes under that spectacular bad-boy hat, my insides somersaulted. Wow.

“Oh, my goodness! I’m so sorry! Thought you were a black bear. If I’d known you were—well, you, I’d never have sprayed.”

The tall hunk of a man was too busy flushing his face with a water bottle to give me an answer. I waited, chewing on my lower lip and wishing I could just sink into the ground. But who rumbled through the bushes in such an obvious way? A bear, that was who. A land predator unafraid of humans and wanting to take a bite right out of me.

“Ma’am, I was coming to warn you. There’s been a bear sighted not far from here. I heard you caterwauling and thought you might be in trouble. Didn’t expect to be pepper sprayed for my trouble.”

I looked around warily. Maybe it was time to head back to town and bring a group of people to pick berries another day when I could assign someone to keep a lookout. I had filled four buckets. Not too shabby.

Wait.

What did he just say?

“I do not caterwaul. I was singing. And it sure beats crashing through the bush like Bigfoot.”

“If you say so, darlin’.” Was that a twinkle in his eyes? The rest of his handsome mug remained inscrutable, launching another fussy crop of butterflies into my body, looking to land. He came closer and the acrid stench of the protection spray on his clothes made my eyes water in sympathy. Oh, my.

He caught my grimace. “Not so pleasant an odor to be around, I agree. I’m Constable Ace Collins, by the way.”

“As in RCMP?” My voice came out in a high-pitched squeal. Darn it. Of all the people to mace, how did I manage a lawman? He must have been new to town or I would have heard about him by now. News traveled faster than the speed of light here. Not bad, considering light traveled at 299,792,458 meters per second and took eight minutes and seventeen seconds to reach us from the sun. I did love odd facts.

“I apologize.” I gave him my best I’m-so-sorry face. “But with you thundering through the bush, I really thought you were a bear. Heck, you’re big enough to be one.”

“And you are?” Nary a hint of a smile on that stern face. I’d bet he had all the perps ready to surrender. One look at those extra-wide muscular shoulders and granite jaw and they’d give up.

“Charm McCall. My sisters and I run the Tea & Tarot café on Main Street.”

“Well, Charm McCall, I think we’d best get a move on. There’s the bear now.” He pointed at an advancing lumbering shape, just visible out of the corners of my eyes.

“Oh, shoot!” Survival mode clicked in. Run. Never play dead with a black bear—they think you’ve decided to become a high-protein snack. I made the jump into the jeep in record time. An explosion of activity on my right proved the lawman had similar quick wits. I fired the motor, slamming the vehicle into gear.

“Hang on!”

We bounced along at breakneck speed for a couple of insane minutes before hitting the main road back to town. I eased up on the gas petal and glanced over at my passenger. He looked a tad pale.

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, sure.” He prised his fingers off the dash and straightened his hat which had slipped forward. “You always drive like that?”

“Nah. Only when a bear wants a chunk of my hiney.” I glanced over at him and caught him checking me out. He looked to be in his mid-to-late twenties. Yup. Perfect.

“You should come back to the café. Have some coffee and a dessert on the house. I owe you—ah—for the rude response to your trying to help me.”

“Sorry, not today. Maybe another time.”

Disappointed, I made the turn onto Main Street. The odor of pepper spray dissipating, I could detect a different fragrance underneath. A fresh woodsy scent. Nice. Smelling good was always a plus.

“Where can I drop you?”

“At the detachment. I’ll go back for my truck later. I need to check in anyway.”

“Okay.” I turned off at the Clip Joint with its oversized scissors perched on the roof. It had quite the history, what with the strange artifact having fallen to the pavement in an ice storm years ago. They had been fastened more securely since, thank goodness. The hairstyling establishment was situated next to ours and did a brisk business. I pulled into the first driveway on the right. “Do you like country and western music?” I asked as he scrambled out of the front seat.

“Yeah, sure.” He gave me a quizzical look, closing the noisy passenger door. Twice. It never latched on the first try.

“Great. Come by the Boots & Lace tonight. Men’s night. First drink’s free. And my sister Star’s singing, which is an awesome treat.”

“You’ve got more family in town?” He rested his hand on the top of the jeep’s open window ledge. He bent down to peer in at me, his handsome visage filling the space to an alarming degree.

“I’m one of three triplets. Oldest one by a day, so I’m in charge.”

“I’ll just bet you are,” he muttered.

“Excuse me, I didn’t catch that.”

“I said I’d love to attend.”

“Great! I’ll introduce you to the town. Is this your first posting?”

“No. Spent three years in Vancouver after completing my master’s in criminology.”

“For real? They send a man with your credentials to our part of the world? No offense, officer, but Snowy Lake isn’t a crime hub. What did you do?”

“Apparently my outstanding attitude towards helping others in law enforcement who didn’t see the full picture wasn’t the bonus I’d hoped it was.”

“Not the first time someone got demoted for knowing too much. Do I detect a little good ole’ boy in that southern drawl of yours?”

“Guilty as charged. Spent my childhood in Lexington, Kentucky, before my parents moved myself and my two brothers to Canada. Father’s a university prof and mother’s a scientist, specializing in virology.”

“Impressive. Well, tomorrow’s the ’Eh Neighbor Festival, which means you can get back at me for the pepper spray. I’m scheduled for the dunk tank.”

“Really?” A genuine smile appeared. “What time?”

“Ah, one till two.”

He looked entirely too smug now.

“You know, I could have taken you back to your vehicle.” I narrowed my eyes, thinking of a return trip to deposit his sweet hiney in the vicinity of the big black bear.

“No, thanks. I value my neck.”

And with that parting shot, he swaggered, all tall and well-built, to the detachment front entrance, exactly like Marshall Raylan Givens of the television hit Justified that Granny and Auntie T.J. insisted on buying all the seasons of on DVD. Show-off.

I made an abrupt U-turn, enjoying the cloud of dust my oversized wheels flung at the low-slung building that housed the town’s entire single-digits police force, then sped the short distance home.

Picking up a pail of berries in each hand, I banged on the front door with my boot. Tulip opened it. “There’s two more in the jeep,” I grunted, pushing past her to deposit the fruit on a customer table.

Star strolled in, already dressed for the evening’s gig at the Boots & Lace.

“You look nice,” I said, admiring the short-fringed white cowgirl dress and red leather boots.

“Ya think!” She twirled, making the fringe dance.

“Get all the baking done?”

“Ah, about that—”

I groaned loudly. “Don’t tell me.”

Tulip came back in with the other pails of berries, darting her glance back and forth between us as she caught the vibe.

“I’ll stay and finish the cookies.”

“Did you burn a batch again?” I pinned Star in my sights. “If you did, you get to stay and finish. Not Tulip.”

“I don’t have time. I have to get over to the hotel. Jerry called and said he needs help with the sound check.”

“And your family doesn’t?”

“It wasn’t my fault. I got busy with a customer and—”

“I told you to keep the café closed.” Star never listened.

“You said we needed the money! And the person bought more than hundred dollars’ worth of crystals and tarot cards. Even a top-of-the-line spell book.” Star’s expression turned murderous, like her song about Snowy Lake’s Johnny.

“Star.” I shook my head. “Okay, get out of here. Tulip and I’ll handle it.”

She gave me a final stab with her angry eyes, stomping out of the front door.

“Her heart was in the right place,” Tulip muttered, only driving the guilt deeper.

“Yeah, I know. Come on, we got cookies to bake and berries to clean. And I want to see at least one of Star’s sets tonight. I invited someone.”

“Really. Who?”

“New constable in town. Ace Collins. Just arrived.”

“Nice. Must have been later this afternoon then.” Tulip glanced at the clock on the wall, a particular favorite of mine with its cheery image of a rooster crowing about the time. “Last update I got from Auntie T.J. was four-thirty. An hour ago.”

“Probably took a nap. I’d expect a call anytime.”

As soon as I’d said it, the phone rang.

Auntie T.J., short for Tegan Jane, lived over on Telegraph Road, next to the town’s library. I loved her house, all gingerbread styling with fancy touches like embroidered cushions with old-fashioned sayings that warmed the heart. She was Granny’s younger sister by a decade, and from Tulip’s reaction, it didn’t take a psychic to know she was calling.

“Auntie T.J. Sure, Charm just told me.”

“Tell her she’s slipping,” I teased. I lugged the berries into the kitchen. If I worked like a banshee, I could finish in time for a quick shower and catch Star’s second set.

Three sweaty hours later, berries lay in the cooler and a humongous batch of peanut butter cookies was stacked in clear plastic trays.

“You want to do the Kismet Spell?” I asked Tulip.

“Nah, not much energy left. You do it.”

“We thank you for this bounty of the sacred earth. May this food be safe and nourishing to all who consume it and bless them to optimal health, gifting them energy, vigor and well-being.” I sent my positive intentions out into the universe, visualizing the stream as a circle of love, enjoying the tug on my spirit.

“Shoot, we didn’t get to bless the jar of jam Mrs. Hurst rushed off with.” I frowned at Tulip, not liking the omission.

“I’ll be fine, Charm. I’m heading home to change. See you there.” Tulip tugged off her apron and flew out of the café. I crept step-by-step up the back stairs to my suite and glanced at the closed door of Ivana’s. One step creaked under my foot and I cringed, stopping mid-movement. I prayed.

No such luck. A door flung open and our tenant stood there, hands on her curvy hips. Her wild red hair gave the impression of sinister movement similar to the famed Medusa, even when she stood still. Her gray eyes pinned me to the wall and I swore a spark leaped from her to land on my shirt. I absently brushed at it. She was in her early thirties and someone I never wanted to annoy. I thought she was related to Russian mobsters—at least she alluded to it often enough, once she’d downed a few shots of vodka. Of course, everyone loved her. Smart.

“Ivana, how’s it going?” I asked, my throat tightening. There weren’t many things I was afraid of, but Ivana Petrov? Right up there with Bigfoot. Her broken and clipped English just made her scarier.

“Not so good.”

“Oh?” The skin on the back of my neck crawled. “What’s the matter?”

“What have I done for such insult! You didn’t think to invite me. Best friend and bosom neighbor.” She was under the delusion it was all true. She struck once at her heart over her spectacular rack with a closed fist, as though she’d chosen to be martyred at dawn in the courtyard.

“Well, you’re always invited to everything. You know that.” I was going out on a limb there, but it seemed the best course. Ivana had a reputation she’d worked hard to maintain, perhaps without knowing it—rabble-rouser. And in a town known for practical jokers, that was some feat. Snowy Lake was isolated from the rest of the world, especially in the dead of winter when we were connected only by dangerously icy roads, or our tiny airport that expected a passenger to leave their firstborn as collateral, so we were adept at making our own home-grown entertainment.

“Star sings like sweet bird of paradise. Thank you for formal invite.” She was all smiles now, and that I trusted even less.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. I should have been used to her dramatics by now—she’d been our lodger for six months—but I kept waiting for the other stiletto shoe to drop. And stick in my head. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes. Want to walk over with me?” There was no place in town we couldn’t reach in under fifteen minutes.

“I accept.” She slammed the door behind herself to punctuate her remarks.

I opened the door to my small three-room apartment, wishing I could curl up on the comfy, oh-so-soft suede couch for a long, long nap. Instead, I dashed into the bedroom and tore off all my clothes, tossed them into the laundry hamper, jumped into the shower for a five-minute scrub then out again for a quick application of makeup.

I lined the lashes around my eyes—my best feature, in my humble opinion—with black kohl and mascara, followed by a quick dusting of translucent powder to my face and slicking gloss on my lips. A blast of the blow dryer and I brushed my waist-length hair to a shine, holding the waves back with a gold hairband. Yup. Granny’s right. Snow White. No matter how much time I spent in the sun, I ended up the color of alabaster. I sighed. Just once to be tan and blonde and three inches taller, like my gorgeous sisters. I’d have to make do with being a brainiac, or so my sisters loved to tease me.

I checked the clock by my bedside. Yikes. Two minutes to dress. Ivana was not a patient woman. Pushing aside three-quarters of the choices in my closet, all ideal for working in the café or gallivanting in the woods, I found it. My favorite red dress. Dare I?

I shimmied my way into it and smoothed the silky fabric over my hips. The skirt flared to my knees—perfectly respectable in case any of Granny’s friends ratted on me—and covered just enough of my ample assets up top to catch a man’s eye. How long had it been since I’d had a boyfriend? It didn’t warrant thinking about. Too depressing. In Snowy Lake, my sisters got all the attention, especially Star, who was perfectly named.

A loud knock sounded on the door. Time was up. Shoes. I scrambled in the back of the closet, pulled out my one pair of black high heels and slipped them on, balancing myself against the wall, then hurried to pick up my purse and dashed for the door before Ivana broke it down. Finances were tight this month and the woman was as strong as an Amazon.

“Why are you out of breath?” she asked suspiciously. She’d chosen a tight neon orange number that covered some of the important bits, with her hair pulled into a flattering updo. Even the orange looked good on her as long as I didn’t stand next to her. It just needed someone to wear green and we’d mimic the one stoplight located at the end of Main Street.

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

The Boots & Lace dancehall was right around the corner. As soon as we exited the back of the café, the heavy thumping of the drums and boots on the wooden floor reverberated up the soles of my thin strappy shoes and into my bloodstream. My step lightened.

The press of hot bodies, the fragrance of freshly popped corn and the promise of cold beer permeated the air of the honky-tonk when we stepped inside. If a person’s pulse didn’t quicken, better call the coroner.

I leaned over and yelled in Ivana’s ear over Star’s singing on stage about a cheatin’ Lothario, her voice enthralling the crowd as usual. “You get us a table and I’ll get the beer.”

She nodded and plowed a wide swathe through the crowd. I almost expected to see neatly stacked rows of dancers on either side of her as she barreled her way on by.

At the bar, I ordered a couple of bottled beers and a large tub of popcorn from Darcy. While waiting for my favorite ginger-haired bartender to assemble our order, I swayed to the music, getting my bearings. Not that I could see much. The place was being hijacked by at least a quarter of Snowy Lake’s residents. Our town grew by a substantial number in the summer, aided by a clever advertising scheme that touted an opportunity to pan for real gold in the creek running through the south side of town, where just enough specks of the color were found to keep the interest ongoing. I suspected Auntie T.J., a huge supporter of all things local, of tossing pieces of fool’s gold into the creek in the dead of night.

“There you go, sweetheart. No charge for the popcorn for such a pretty lady.” Darcy placed my order on a tray, added a charming smile and waited for me to fork over the cash. I dug in my purse and handed him a twenty. While he made change at the till, I scooped up a handful of buttery popcorn and swept it into my mouth. Yum.

“Evening, ma’am.”

I started, choking on the mass of fluffy kernels, and took a quick gulp of beer.

“Howdy, Sheriff,” I said with a cheeky grin, looking up, way up, at Constable Ace Collin’s ruggedly handsome mug. He’d dressed in a pair of faded jeans that hugged his trim hips and a white western-style shirt opened at the top button to expose the smooth skin of his massive neck and chest. He eluded a quiet confidence and the air of mystery that intriguing males managed so effortlessly.

“I’m a constable. Though sheriff does have a nice ring to it.” He had to lean in close for me to hear him over the boisterous crowd. The fragrance of cologne drifted past my nose. I breathed it in. I had no idea of the brand, but it made me take a second, deeper whiff.

“You collect your vehicle all right?”

“Sure. Just had to use an airhorn to drive the monster away.”

“Auntie T.J. uses the bagpipes. Works really well. On bears and humans.”

He chuckled, pearly whites flashing against tan skin. He rubbed his freshly shaven chiseled jawline. Show-off. He’d left the hat at home tonight. His thick dark hair gleamed under the lights, swept back from his forehead. Yup, Johnny Cash was in the house. My body tingled with anticipation.

“Tell me why you haven’t introduced me to this sweet hunk of Mountie, Charm? Didn’t I change your diapers enough to warrant some proper respect?” Auntie T.J.’s voice squealed in my right ear, triggering instant tinnitus. She wouldn’t have changed a diaper if her life had depended on it.

“We didn’t arrive in town until we were eight. I think we were well past the diapering stage.”

“Whatever. So, what’s your name, handsome? Always wanted me a big lawman.” She elbowed past me, dipping her head back to stare up at the newest member of our community, then thoughtfully licked her lips for emphasis in case her words weren’t clear enough. I rolled my eyes, wishing I could vanish through the wide-board barn-style floor.

“Better enjoy your last night of freedom before Granny gets home and reels in that hiney,” I muttered to my aunt. Granny Toogood was a bastion of decency and fair play who I’d relied on to keep the peace on more occasions than I could count. She was tough to boot.

Auntie T.J. pretended she didn’t hear me, but Ace raised one speculative eyebrow in my direction.

“Come on, sugar, let’s dance!” My aunt tugged on her new-found partner, dragging him like a towboat drags a capsized ocean liner before vanishing into the crowd. I made the sign of the cross on my upper body, praying he could dance.

I picked up the tray and wormed my way over to Ivana, depositing the beer and popcorn on the table in front of her.

She mimed her thanks, picking up the beer still in the bottle and blithely ignoring the tall glass provided. Two kinds of women, those who like to be outrageous, and those who don’t. While she tilted her head back and let the cool amber fluid flow down her throat, garnering the glances of all nearby males, I poured mine sedately into its glass.

“I have new duty,” she shouted over the din, setting the half-empty beer on the table with a determined thud.

“Yeah?” Mildly curious, I paid her half a mind while scoping out my aunt manhandling her big Mountie around the dance floor like a prize ox. Ivana had gotten us a prime location. I didn’t want to know what she had done to get it. I nodded at Star singing on the raised stage. The white fringe of her costume glowed against her tan skin, her blonde hair curled into long coils and bouncing when she moved. My feet just couldn’t resist the music of the two-step, tapping out the beat under the table.

“My mission—find Charm hot man.”

I sputtered out the beer I’d just taken a sip of, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I waved her off, shaking my head vigorously. “No need. I’m fine. No hot man, please.”

“No man?” She pouted, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Then her face lit up with a new understanding. “Woman then, yes?”

“No!” I shouted. “Definitely no hot man or hot woman for me. Stay out of it. Please.”

The band had reached the end of their song, news I wished I’d been party to ten seconds earlier. Now it had gotten so quiet I could hear a mouse fart.

Mr. Hunky Lawman eased into a chair beside me, a smile tugging his mouth upward, exposing dimples that didn’t quit. “Well, ma’am, that’s good to know.”

Ivana’s eyes widened. Yeah. I get it. He’s hot.

“If I try not to sizzle, will you do me the honor of the next dance, Miss McCall?” Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Ivana’s eyelashes flutter, her hand clutching at her chest, exposing more cleavage.

“Yes, of course,” I murmured, my body tilting to its hottest setting. Ever. Granny would never forgive a lack of manners, though, and I had best rely on safe protocols and keep a proper six inches between our bodies. The sooner I introduced Constable Ace Collins to Star, the better.

On the dance floor, I barely came up to his chin when he tugged me to his broad chest. He tucked my hand into his far larger one that threatened to swallow it whole, pulling me into the slow waltz step, his other hand searing the flesh of my lower back. I gritted my teeth. And Star and her country band would have to line up a romantic song next. He danced with casual flair, making it easy to follow his lead. Unfortunately. Better if he danced like Bigfoot.

“I had no idea Snowy Lake was such a thriving community. Nice to see so many people out and about on a Thursday night.”

“Oh, that. It’s just because my sister Star’s band’s here.”

“That’s your sister? Nice voice.” He didn’t glance over at the stage, where she crooned about crying over lost love, but held my gaze instead.

“You staying in town for a while?”

“If you’ll have me.”

I nodded. “I’ll introduce you to Star between sets.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Any other relatives in town I should know about? Parents?”

Raw emotion surged, but I tamped it down, shaking my head. As the years had gone by, I’d given up the hope of ever seeing my mom again, no matter how much good karma I’d tried to create. It just wasn’t good enough. “Long gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes darkened with empathy, making me swallow a mouthful of saliva.

“It is what it is.” I shrugged. “You?”

“Both parents live in Winnipeg. Divorced, though they live side-by-side in a duplex on Academy Road. Go figure. Got two brothers, Stone and Mick. My younger brother Stone’s working on a degree in computer engineering at the U of M and Mick’s even younger—training to be an RCMP officer in Regina.”

“Sorry about your parents splitting up. It usually sucks for the kids.”

“Yeah, well, it was after we’d all left home, which made it easier.” He shrugged, letting it slide off his extra-wide shoulders. “A little harder when you’re eight.” Hmm, excellent hearing as well.

“You cope. Learn to make the best of it. Granny Toogood took us in. We’re the lucky ones. At least we didn’t land in the foster system.”

“I hear you.”

The press of bodies swaying romantically around us while we danced in our oasis of proper decorum left Ace and I the odd ones out. When the song ended, I hightailed it for the table, waving off a chance at a second round of torture.

Star put her guitar on its stand and bounded down the short flight of steps from the stage, fringe and curls flying.

“Star, I want you to meet Constable Ace Collins.” I leaned in close to shout in her ear. I crossed my fingers that such enticement as this fine specimen of a man would keep Star in town.

Star put out her hand and Ace took it. But instead of shaking it like a normal person would, he laid a smooch on the back of it, giving her an admiring glance from his chocolate-brown eyes. She blushed under the overhead florescent lights, her eyes sparkling with merriment.

“Charmed, m’ lady.”

“Nice to meet you too. Has anyone told you how much you resemble Johnny Cash?” she purred, earning a dimpled grin from Ace. O—kay. This might have worked too well.

“A time or two. May I join you?” he asked, though I’d already extended the invite. Oh, such a real dream guy, not that I was into that sort of thing.

“Of course.” Star gave him the sweetest look imaginable, sitting down next to him, legs crossed toward him. “So, when did you mosey into town, Sheriff?”

I rolled my eyes.

“Just today. Got a call about a black bear on the way and stopped to have a look around. Ran into Charm and—”

“And I pepper sprayed him,” I finished. He gave me another of those long looks that made my heart stutter.

“What? How could you?” Star’s exaggerated horror was well played.

“I’ve already apologised for thinking he was a bear.”

“Or Bigfoot,” he added with a wry smile.

“Charm.” Ivana shook her wild hair, the ends spitting in my direction. “Not nice to do that to such big man. And you know what said about man with big foot, eh?” She laid a hand on his forearm, squeezing as if checking for something. For heaven’s sake, he’s not a slab of beef. And I wasn’t touching for all the tea in China the comment about a man with big feet.

“Anyone know what’s keeping Tulip?” I took a sip of beer, noting Ivana had just about finished hers.

“Maybe new boyfriend?” Ivana’s eyes gleamed with interest. Ivana went through men like no woman I’d ever met. No one with a big enough foot? Okay. Not nice, Charm. I blushed at my own audacity.

“I’ll get some more beer,” I offered, getting up. Ivana worked part-time at the local beauty salon, which barely covered her rent—probably why she was a month behind. I wasn’t complaining, envisioning her Bratva brothers climbing out of the woodwork and through the windows to warn me to lay off their sister. Plus, she was good enough to cover in the café when both my dear sisters went AWOL. She didn’t drive too much traffic away on a good day.

“A pitcher this time, Darcy,” I said at the bar, once I’d gotten his attention. “Everyone’s thirsty tonight.” He nodded, busy filling orders. But he bumped mine up the queue, pouring it right away.

“Thanks. Have you seen Tulip?”

He shook his head, taking my money then handing me the change. I carted the golden-colored nectar back to our table and plunked it down in the center, rivets of moisture condensing and running down the sides of the see-through pitcher. A loud disturbance near the entrance grabbed my attention. I scanned the area, my skin twitchy with heightened nerves. The crowd separated, revealing my errant sister barreling her way toward our table. Oh boy, now what?