Page 63 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

“For now it is.” She said it to remind herself as much as him, because she knew her family. They were lovely, but they wouldn’t go away.

And, selfishly, now that the scorching heat of her lust had been tempered, Daphne was grateful. She’d been a few seconds away from making a very, very big mistake.

Chapter 22

Calvin wrenched the door open and glared at the people on the other side. He didn’t mean to be aggressive, but judging by the half step they all took away from him, he knew his face wasn’t exactly friendly.

He couldn’t help it. The softness of Daphne’s skin still tingled against his palms. His scalp pricked where she’d fisted a hand in his hair. His lips burned with the need to taste her again.

He wanted to make her come undone. She’d gotten under his skin with her proper, buttoned-up exterior and wildcat heart. Truthfully, she’d always been intriguing to him. Always made him want more. It reminded him of how fiending for something felt, to want to lose himself in oblivion.

That sensation should have been enough to get him to pull back, to show him that pursuing Daphne was bad for his health. But Calvin couldn’t help it. She was uptight and proper and a little Goody Two-Shoes, except shewasn’t. And he wanted to strip away every bit of her armor until he knew her inside and out. Until all her secrets belonged to him.

But he’d been interrupted, the spell had been broken, and he didn’t know if he’d get the chance again.

“What?” he barked.

“Well, I never,” Mabel said, planting her hands on her hips. “Is that the way you talk to the constituents of this island, Sheriff?”

A deep, measured breath later, and Calvin was a touch calmer. “My apologies. What can I do for you?”

“We brought dinner,” Helen said, lifting a silver pot. “Chicken-and-barley soup with fresh bread and butter.”

“And a side salad,” Ellie added. She carried a wooden bowl covered in plastic wrap. “We wanted to check on Daphne.”

“We called,” Mabel informed him, “but no one answered.”

“If you guys are busy, we can come back later ...” Ellie’s eyes sparkled as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“No,” Daphne blurted out behind him. She was at the other end of the hall, leaning against the wall with her injured leg bent so she wouldn’t put any weight on it. She was wearing a fresh T-shirt and jeans, but her cheeks were still flushed. “No, we’re not busy. We were just talking about getting dinner started.”

“I’m sure you were,” Ellie said. Daphne shot her a venomous look, which Ellie answered with a smile.

“Good,” Mabel said, and shoved her way past Calvin. After stepping into the living room, the old lady looked around for a moment before saying, “You do keep a clean house, Sheriff. I’m impressed.”

“How’s the ankle, Daphne?” Helen asked, walking past them into the kitchen.

“Getting better.”

Ellie followed the two of them around the corner, and Calvin heard her ask, “Are you still going to be able to do the dance at the vow renewal?”

Wanting to follow them but feeling reticent about leaving Mabel unsupervised in his home, Calvin cleared his throat. “Can I get you a drink, Mabel?”

She paused in her inspection of the few photos he’d left on his mantel and met his gaze. “That would be wonderful. Have you got any wine?”

“I don’t keep alcohol in the house,” he said. “I can get you a soda or water, though.”

“Water will be perfect.” She smiled at him and turned back to her snooping.

It would be fine to leave her in the living room. She was an old lady, not a threat. But it was strange enough having Daphne in his space—hosting her family was another matter entirely. He liked his things to be kept a certain way. He relied on routine and predictability. His childhood had been marked by the chaos and desperation of having to fend for himself, and now his home felt sacred.

But he could deal with one dinner with a few locals. Daphne had always been close with her family; maybe it was time he got to know them better.

He made it to the kitchen in time to see Ellie hunting through his drawers and pulling out a serrated knife. She moved to the board, where a fresh loaf of bread waited. Helen opened two or three cabinets in search of bowls, which he retrieved for her on the far end of the kitchen. Daphne sat at the kitchen table, watching quietly.

“Tell us the truth, Sheriff—”

“Call me Calvin. Please.”

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