Out of Eden. Beth Ciotta

my toothbrush? Oh, shit. Wait. Shit.”

      Note to self, Jack thought as the stray mutt peed on his bathroom floor, don’t yell at the dog. Any time he exhibited frustration, Shy—he had to call her something—peed. Not a lot, just a nervous sprinkle. Still. “Damn.”

      He grabbed a wad of tissue and soaked up the mess.

      Shy cowered on the bath mat.

      Two nights earlier, he’d found the midsize stray cowering under the old rocker on his back porch. She was scared of thunderstorms. She was scared, from what he’d witnessed so far, of everything. Starved, wet and frightened, the pitiful thing had allowed him to coax her inside. Next, he’d called animal control, but no one had reported a missing dog that looked like a miniature German shepherd. He’d told himself, and Shy, that he’d only keep her until he found her owner or a suitable home. The way things were going, that day couldn’t come too soon.

      He adopted the casual manner he used to soothe victimized humans. “Easy, girl.” He flushed the soiled tissue, then washed his hands. Noting the dog’s stricken look, he ruffled her bowed head. Five seconds later, she trotted after him and into the kitchen, tail wagging.

      He opened the fridge and nabbed the makings of a mushroom omelet.

      Shy circled twice, then curled on the braided rug in front of the sink.

      “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re coming with me today.” Yesterday, she’d destroyed one of his shoes, two books and a magazine. Either she’d been pissed because he’d left her alone, or bored. He wasn’t a doggy shrink, but this pup had issues. She was a complication he didn’t want or need. His goal was to simplify.

      Jack beat three eggs, then poured them into a heated skillet, his mind veering to another complicated doe-eyed female. Kylie McGraw. Her goofy smile and fiery spirit. Her red panties and lush lips.

      That freaking birthday kiss.

      Too bad I didn’t feel anything.

      It’s not like he’d put any effort into it. Still. He’d felt something and she hadn’t. Then again, she’d passed out seconds later. Maybe she’d been too trashed to feel anything. His ego demanded a second shot. Logic said, let it go. The only thing worse than a mutual attraction would be acting on it. This was Kylie. Sweet and responsible. Except when she’s trashed. She was the marrying kind and he was the kind who wrecked marriages.

      Shy barked.

      “A recipe for disaster, huh?”

      Another bark.

      “Right.”

      Jack fed the mutt a half a can of beef kibble, then loaded up his own plate with an omelet and toast. He ate standing up at the counter. Sipped coffee. Flipped through Law and Order magazine and contemplated his first official day as chief of police.

      He wondered if Kylie would go through with her threat to shake things up or if she’d lose her nerve when she gained her sobriety. He had better things to do than reading her the riot act for disturbing the peace. Like organizing his new office and finding a home for Shy. There were also security issues pertaining to the upcoming Apple Festival.

      One thing he wouldn’t be doing was investigating a gang shooting or a mafia hit. Those two factions didn’t exist in Eden. Hell, there hadn’t been a murder of any kind in this town for several decades. No atrocities. No risk that he’d experience that damned numbness that made him wonder what he’d become. No self-disgust binge drinking.

      Who needed a shrink, he thought as he topped off his coffee. He had Eden.

      A SLICE OF DRY TOAST, one banana, two cups of strong black tea and a hot shower later, Kylie felt rejuvenated enough to attempt gusto. Wanting to shake up her routine straight away, she raided her closet in search of anything bold. She passed over conservative ensembles and settled on a flared black skirt and a fitted black T-shirt featuring a sequined green-and-red dragon breathing sparkly gold fire. Bypassing a dozen pairs of sensible shoes, she snagged the flower-power combat boots she’d ordered and never worn. Whimsical and daring. “The new me.”

      Feeding off nervous energy, she skipped morning meditation, although she did chant affirmations as she applied mascara and lip balm and tamed her thick hair into her signature ponytail. “I will act out of the ordinary in order to attract and promote change. Change is exciting. Change is good.”

      She repeated that three times while staring at her reflection in the mirror, although her mind trailed off to the un-extraordinary. She considered her pale freckled cheeks, her juvenile ponytail, her poor vision. Maybe she should experiment with cosmetics and a stylish haircut. Investing in laser surgery seemed extreme, but she could definitely afford new glasses. Her body benefited from years of yoga, but typically she hid her toned form beneath loose clothing, choosing timeless classics over here-today-gone-tomorrow trends. She’d never fussed over style, choosing instead to focus on inner beauty. Thing was, men were visual creatures, stimulated by what they could see and touch.

      She knew Jack’s type and she wasn’t it. That explained his lack of enthusiasm when she’d leaned in for a kiss. Plus, she’d been drunk and vulnerable, and wouldn’t that be so Jack—a gentlemen even when you ached to be ravished.

      Been there. Lived through the embarrassment. Twice now.

      She sighed and turned away from the mirror. There were other ways to shake up her life aside from burning up the sheets with Jack Reynolds. Not that she was tempted to do so. She was, thank goodness, over him. No, she was going to concentrate on her daring decision to renovate McGraw’s Shoe Store.

      Sporting a devilish grin, she called Faye while tugging on a pair of thick green socks.

      Her friend picked up after the second ring. Despising telemarketers, Faye always screened her calls. “You’re alive.”

      “Rough around the edges, but a lesson learned. What about Sting?”

      “Rough around the edges, but a lesson learned.”

      Kylie frowned at Faye’s gruff tone. “What about Spice? Did she survive her first slumber party without getting her undies frozen?” Spice was Faye’s thirteen-year-old daughter. As quirky as her mom, but not as outgoing. Her first slumber party—the kid wasn’t exactly Miss Popular—had been a very big deal. Maybe it had been a disaster.

      “She had a blast.”

      Kylie waited for details. None came. She squirmed as the silence stretched. What the heck? “Are you mad at me?”

      “Why would I be mad at you?”

      Kylie pursed her lips and racked her fuzzy brain. “Because I made a spectacle of myself?”

      Faye grunted. “Do you even remember last night?”

      “Most of it. Okay. Parts of it.”

      Another long stretch of silence.

      Kylie bristled. So, she’d had too much to drink. So, she’d gotten a little loud, given away her shoes and taken a spill in Boone’s. It wasn’t like Faye to be so easily embarrassed. “Aren’t you going to ask me about Jack?” Kylie blurted, because normally that’s exactly what her friend would do. Faye knew all about Kylie’s longtime infatuation, although she didn’t know about the never-to-be-mentioned-ever episode. “He gave me a birthday kiss. Actually, I stole a kiss. He just sort of sat there. Disappointing.”

      “You expected Jack to take advantage of you?”

      “I expected fireworks.”

      “You always expect fireworks,” Faye said. “And you’re always disappointed.”

      “Yes, but this was Jack. It’s supposed to be different with him.”

      “It’s supposed to be different with someone who sets your soul on fire. I thought you were over Jack.”

      “I am.”

      “Are you