Alex smiles. “I understand. In fact, I’m not religious at all. Strange, right?”
“I… Yeah. Why do you sell this stuff?” I wave my hand over the table.
“Why do you investigate cheating spouses?”
Because people will pay for it.
I open my mouth to respond with that, but what comes out is, “Touché. Detective Nash spilled more beans than I thought.”
Alex’s smile turns to a smirk, and call me suspicious, but I get the distinct feeling that he knows even more about me than he’s let on. And the information didn’t necessarily come from Drake.
That makes me uncomfortable.
I swallow hard and dart my eyes from the rosaries to him. “I’ll get Nonna to stop by. I’m sure she’ll be happy to talk rosaries and try to convert you to Catholicism.”
“Nonna?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. “She’s Italian?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “I have a couple of things to do. It was good to see you.”
Once again, as I walk away, I feel his eyes on my back. I glance over my shoulder and almost immediately slam into someone who feels exactly like a brick wall. Hands grab my arms to steady me, and I squeal, stepping back. My heel almost sinks into the ground, but the man tightens his grasp on me.
“Whoa. Are you all right, sweetheart?” His soft, Canadian accent soothes me immediately.
I don’t know what it is about those Canadians. They’re just so damn nice, aren’t they?
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” I cover my mouth with my hand, lifting my foot to unsink my heel. Who thought heels on a field was a good idea? “I really should be payin’ more attention today.”
The man grins. His green-gray eyes sparkle as light-brown hair flops onto his face. Instantly, I age him at around thirty, and his strong arms and broad shoulders places him as a traveler. That and there are no Canadians in Holly Woods.
Trust me. If there were, they’d be my besties.
“Don’t worry,” Canadian Man says. “We all have them days.”
“Thank you. And I’m sorry. Again.” I step back, and his arms fall to his sides.
He looks at my feet. “You should be careful in those shoes. No wonder you almost fell over.”
Is it shallow to say I’m more worried about the damage the field could have done to my shoes than the fact I could have snapped my ankle? I mean, let’s be real. My ankle is in one piece, but my shoes are muddy.
And they’re Louboutins.
Louboutins. Muddy. Ugh.
“I came straight from work,” I explain. “Again with the attention thing.”
He chuckles.
“How did I know I’d find you here?”
I spin at the sound of Brody’s voice and see him come stalking toward me. He’s in his favorite, faded Cowboys T-shirt and the jeans I hate because they have a little rip on one knee. I mostly hate them because, for some reason, they drive women wild, and I don’t need to see my little bro get perved on when I’m right next to him.
Not that any of them hit on him when I’m there. I kind of damage his street cred a little.
“All right?” Brody asks, drawing level with me.
“Yes!” It comes out a little too high-pitched, and he gives me an odd look. “My head is in the clouds and I just walked into this gentleman, who stopped me landing on my butt. Brody, this is, err… I’m sorry,” I apologize yet again to Canadian Man. “I didn’t get your name.”
“Eddie,” he replies, holding his hand out to Brody. “Eddie Roy.”
“Detective Brody Bond.” My brother gives his hand a strong shake. “Thanks for stopping my sister from breaking her leg. I keep telling her about those shoes.”
I roll my eyes. Here comes the alpha-male complex all the men in my life seem to have. Telling me about my shoes, indeed. The only thing he’s ever said is that I could buy a small island if I saved the money I spent on them.
“Noelle,” I say, taking Eddie’s offered hand. “Again, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Try to look the way you’re walking next time.” With a wink, Eddie Roy walks around us.
I glare at his back. Hey, Mr. Canada? You can be nice all you like, but patronizing will get my heel in your scrotum. Just saying.
Brody sighs. “You just cause trouble everywhere you go, don’t you?”
“Actually, it follows me. What can I say? I’m attractive.” I shudder off the lingering warmth from Eddie’s hands on my upper arms and turn back to face Alex’s stall.
He’s laughing warmly with someone, but he still creeps me out. Even if he does have a nice laugh.
“Do you know him?” I ask.
“Alex? Sure. Seems like a nice guy.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
I shrug. “He makes me feel…odd.”
“Turned-on odd? Or just odd?”
I slap his arm. “No. Just odd. Only one person turns me on, thank you very much.”
Brody holds his hands up. “Whoa. Back up on the arousal part.”
“You brought it up.”
“Don’t remind me,” he mutters, folding his arms. “What do you want me to do? Arrest him because he creeps you out?”
“Please. If you could do that, I’d have had you, Dev, and Trent arrested years ago and my teenage years would have been way more enjoyable.” With considerably less rubber spiders hidden in my bed.
He laughs loudly and hugs me quickly. I’m glad he finds it funny. My throat will be forever scarred from all the screaming I did until Mom stepped in and banned any kind of rubber creepy-crawly from our house.
They tried to replace it with a snake.
I bought a fake positive pregnancy test off eBay and sent Trent a picture pretending to be the girl he was seeing, which was, helpfully, Bek’s cousin, who was more than sympathetic of my fourteen-year-old self’s critter plight.
Thankfully, no more creatures have been found in my bed to date.
“What are you doing here, apart from running into people?”
“I want to talk to Dina White.” I turn around and point to the stall that has her name on. “She’s over there, but I walked right past because I wasn’t concentrating…”
“And you decided to walk around the whole place before going back,” Brody correctly surmises. “What are you going to talk to her about?”
Leaning in, I whisper, “Satan.”
He raises his eyebrows.
I sigh. “Bek said she might know stuff because she does the witchy thing.” I wave my hands. “I don’t know. Information is information, right? Unless you know anything about it.”
“Are you kidding me? Nonna would string me up by my balls. Let’s go.” He grabs my arm and hooks my hand through his elbow. “Just in case you decide you’d rather sit on the ground.”
I punch him.
Dickhead.
When we get to Dina’s stall, she’s ridiculously busy. I guess everyone who usually avoids her store in the middle of town comes to her during the fair because everyone else does too.
My heart sinks. There’s no way I’m going to get to talk to her to get anything she might know about Satanism.
God. Why do people have to kill so elaborately? Doesn’t anyone just shoot anyone anymore?
“Can I help you?” Dina says to us, her silver hair flowing in light waves over one shoulder.
Despite the color of her hair, Dina is young. Younger than I thought, actually. I don’t really know her, but it seems as though she’s run her store forever. Looking at her now, with her gorgeous, long hair, her smooth, porcelain skin, and her sapphire-blue eyes, I don’t think she can’t be older than thirty-five.
“Hi. Dina, isn’t it?” I ask.
“That’s me, doll. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if you had a few minutes to chat?”
She hesitantly looks over at her customers. “Not right now. Sorry. Can I help you with it real quick?”
“Technically…” I hesitate. “My friend Bek comes into your store an awful lot and she recommended you for information.”
Dina’s blue eyes focus on me. “What kind?”
“On”—I lick my lips—“Satanism.”
If she could pale, she would. “Yes. I sure can’t help you with that right here, huh?” She laughs nervously. “I’m takin’ a delivery tomorrow at the store around eight a.m. Why don’t you stop by and I’ll see if I can help you?”