That was a phone call Claire had hated making, one she hoped she’d never have to repeat. As any bride would be, Genevieve had been traumatized to learn her wedding dress had been shredded, but another telephone call to the dress designer had ended in prim assurances that another gown could be sent within the next few weeks—for a premium, of course. Claire would have to foot the bill for it until her insurance policy paid up, but she figured it was a small price to pay to keep the peace with the Beaumont family.
“Katherine, you’ve always got your ear to the ground.” The nimble fingers Alex used for slicing and dicing in the restaurant kitchen at the resort didn’t stop dancing through the beads as she spoke. “What’s the scuttlebutt about who might be behind our dastardly crime spree?”
“I wish I knew. As of an hour ago when I stopped in at the diner, all kinds of rumors were flying, everything from some Ukrainian mafia moving into Hope’s Crossing to California gangs setting up a drug operation to some secret government conspiracy. Riley’s got his work cut out for him sifting through all the crazy tips.”
“He’ll figure it out,” Mary Ella said, her voice confident. “That boy has been stubborn since he came into the world. He won’t stop until he gets to the bottom of the burglaries and puts the offenders behind bars, no matter what he has to do to find them.”
“Which is Ma code meaning her only son is sneaky and conniving,” Alex said.
“And manipulative and underhanded,” Maura added.
“Don’t forget mule-headed and obstinate,” offered Claire, who figured that while she wasn’t a sister by birth, she had been the object of his torment enough that she deserved the right to chime in.
All the women laughed, except for Ruth, whose mouth tightened. Despite her friendship with Mary Ella, Ruth held Riley in severe dislike and never found much of anything amusing when it came to him. She couldn’t get past the wild troublemaker he’d been in the past, the pain he’d put his mother through. Still, the rest of them were still chuckling when the front door chimes rang out and the man in question walked through the door.
He stood just inside the store, his dark hair slightly ruffled from the cold wind and a brush of afternoon shadow along his jawline, practically oozing testosterone amid all the sparkly beads and chattering women. Claire had a sudden mental image of running her fingers along those whiskers, of tracing that firm jawline and the dimple at the side of his mouth.
Color heated her cheeks. What on earth was wrong with her? The stress of the day. That’s what she would blame for her completely irrational response.
Riley surveyed the group of giggling women and Claire noticed she wasn’t the only one unable to meet his gaze, although she was quite certain she was the only one whose insides had taken a long, slow roll.
“Okay, now why do I suddenly have the funny feeling my ears should be burning?” he murmured.
“No reason, darling,” Mary Ella assured him, although she winked at the rest of them.
“A little narcissistic, are we?” Alex smirked.
He tugged at his sister’s dark curls in response before leaning in to kiss his mother’s cheek. Claire was close enough to catch his scent, earthy and masculine.
“How nice of you all to help Claire with her mess. This looks like it’s going to take months.”
“Told you,” Ruth muttered.
“I guess you know everyone here,” Mary Ella said. “Oh, except for Evie. Evie Blanchard, this is the new police chief of Hope’s Crossing and my baby, J. Riley McKnight. Evie works here for Claire.”
Riley gave his mother an exasperated frown. “I generally prefer youngest to baby, thanks all the same, Ma. It’s nice to meet you, Evie.”
He shook her hand and from his reputation, Claire might have expected him to put out the vibe, maybe offer up the same flirtatious grin he’d employed on her earlier. Evie was beautiful, after all, ethereal and blonde and deceptively fragile-looking, especially with those shadows in her big blue eyes. But Riley only smiled at her in a polite but rather impersonal sort of way.
“How’s the investigation coming?” Maura asked. “We were just talking about it. Did you come to tell us you’ve caught the little bastards?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Geez, Maur. Your language! And in front of Mrs. Tatum and Councilwoman Thorne, too. Watch it or Ma will wash out your mouth.”
“That’s right,” Mary Ella said, apparently conveniently forgetting she’d used her own pithy words earlier.
Maura never cared much about what anybody thought of her, one of the reasons Claire admired her so much. “You saw what they did here.” She gestured to the mess the women were helping Claire set to rights. “What else would you call them?”
“Point taken.”
“I guess I’m just lucky they didn’t hit the bookstore.”
“So have you caught them?” Alex asked.
“Still working on it. I need to ask Claire a couple of follow-up questions.”
“Please. We’d like to know what’s going on.” In her quest for information, Ruth had apparently decided to momentarily overlook her dislike of Riley.