Evelyn smoothed out her shirt and turned off the light. She was greeted in the hallway by a happy Earl and an even happier Mr. T, and the threesome headed toward the living room.
Clancy was sprawled out on the couch, all six-feet-something of him golden under the light of a floor lamp, sound asleep. His sandy bare feet hung off the edge of the cushions while a loose hand cupped his cell phone. She couldn’t blame him. It had to be well past ten and in addition to everything else he’d dealt with that day, Clancy told her this had been his very first evening routine with a four-year-old. That would wear anyone out.
Evelyn studied him for a long moment, thinking about their evening. They’d returned to the beach just before the sun disappeared. She’d whipped together a dinner using stuff she found in his pantry and freezer—a brown rice pilaf with chicken and spinach, and a fruit salad for dessert. The three of them ate at the butcher block, as they’d done at breakfast. Then Evelyn got Christina ready for bed while Clancy cleaned up, and afterward, he volunteered for story duty. Evelyn watched as her niece and the police chief snuggled together in the big living room chair, his deep voice becoming tender as he said good night to the moon, the mittens, the socks, and the stars, only to do it all over again at least three times. Christina was so worn out and happy that it took just minutes for her to fall asleep.
Apparently, it had been the same for Clancy.
Evelyn sat cross-legged on the living room rug and leaned against the chair. The dogs joined her, each resting a big, bony head in her lap. She scratched their ears as the exhaustion hit. It was a type of tired she had never felt before, not even after the most grueling marathons. The weariness cut down to the marrow of her mind and heart as much as her body. She let her eyelids close.
She could not fail. It had been the only thing Amanda ever asked of her. Evelyn remembered the day she made the promise. The air was bracing and the sky deep blue, and Amanda asked her to have a seat on the stone wall. It wasn’t like her sister to reveal her deepest feelings, so Evelyn let her talk. She broke apart, releasing everything she’d been carrying by herself.
Though five years had gone by, Amanda’s words were as clear as if they’d just been spoken.
“If anything ever happens to me, you cannot let him get his hands on her. He threw her away. Please promise me you will not let that bastard near Christina.”
The memory faded. Evelyn felt as if she were floating through the air. Had she fallen asleep? Where was Amanda? Christina? Had she been dreaming? Remembering? Who was carrying her?
“It’s okay, Evie. Go back to sleep.”
It was Clancy, taking her into his bedroom. She wanted it. She wanted to sleep with him at her side. Christina was happy and safe. Evelyn was not alone anymore. She had hope. So when Clancy gently placed her on his mattress and snuggled up behind her, she melted in bliss.
Oh, the relief of his arms around her, the comforting heat of his body, the knowledge that she could truly relax. She could sink into nothing yet be protected . . . from . . . everything. . . .
He opened his eyes, immediately sensing that his bed and his life were different. This was not Mr. T shoved up against his left hip. This was Evie, and her arm was flung loosely across his chest while a firm thigh pressed into the front of his shorts. He lay in the dark, listening to the soft rhythm of her breath, letting the uniquely female essence of Evelyn McGuinness wash over him. His brain had remembered the exactness of the scent for eighteen years—sea breeze over wildflowers—and it now flooded him with memories. The scent was a deeper and richer version now, that of a woman, not a girl.
Just then he realized this hadn’t been such a great idea. Yes, they were fully clothed and had done nothing but sleep for the last several hours, but now what? Evie was in his bed. For real. He was awake and she’d soon be, too.
Oh, God, she just shifted and made a sweet little moan in her sleep. Evie’s knee slid higher on his body, her long calf muscle pressing directly onto his cock. Clancy tried everything to avoid the inevitable: he thought of Cosmo Katsakis’s stained wife beater, the Bayberry Freedom Colony, the mountain of paperwork on his desk. But nothing prevented his body from doing what nature intended.