Page 9 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

Normal, everyday, sensible Daphne would step out of the way and let someone else deal with the cashbox thief. There were dozens of people between him and the exit. Someone else could handle it. Hell, the sheriff could handle it. That was his job. She’d shake her head and watch, of course, but she’d stay far away from anything that might be trouble. Daphne didn’t get in the way of trouble. She avoided it at all costs.

But normal, everyday, sensible Daphne seemed to have forgotten to get on the ferry a few days ago, leaving a bitter, angry, vengeful Daphne in her place.

AndthatDaphne was unpredictable.

Things happened quickly.

The thief’s shoes slapped the gym floor as he sprinted toward the exit. His eyes were wild, his hair greasy and windblown, the gray cashbox tucked under his arm like a football.

Daphne had seconds to act, and no time at all to think. She dropped her baked goods on the ground and let her shoulder bag slide to her hand. The thief came sprinting closer. Five yards. Three. Daphne wound her arm back and swung.

The mason jar full of delicious rhubarb jam gave the shoulder bag decent heft. When it connected with the thief’s face, he gave a startled yelp, his feet running on while his head snapped back.

But Daphne had underestimated him. He got his feet under him and dodged her second swing. She let out a garbled yell, winding back once more.

Then his fist came for her face.

Chapter 3

Calvin had just wanted to see if Adelaide Gable’s caramel sticky buns were as good as he remembered. Besides, he figured being seen at the market would be good for his image. He could make small talk, have the residents see him in his civvies, and start ingratiating himself with the community. That way, they’d forget his past transgressions and see him as the upstanding public servant he’d become—against all odds.

The job was easier when people weren’t afraid of him. He preferred forging bonds with the people he was meant to serve and protect. He’d grown up in the years since he’d left Fernley; he wanted to know if people could look beyond his past and see him for who he was now.

And if they didn’t, well, he wasn’t obligated to run in the election in the fall. He could go back to his old job and leave these shores for good.

So the Fernley Winter Market was meant to be an easy Sunday-morning stroll filled with polite small talk and maybe a delicious treat.

He hadn’t expected to have to stop a thief.

And he certainly hadn’t expected to watch Daphne Davis get slugged in the face either.

His heart gave a lurch as Daphne’s head snapped back, blood spraying from her nose in a grisly crimson arc. The thief stumbled forward, his shoulder banging into hers, and he made to push her out of the way.

But the crook underestimated Davis. She let out a battle cry worthy of a Valkyrie and clung to him, tripping him over her outstretched footas she went down. He landed on top of her, and Calvin lost sight of them in the crowd.

Feet pounding on the squeaky wooden floors, Calvin shouted for people to move out of the way as he sprinted toward the action.

“Get him!” an elderly lady screamed. “Kick him in the balls, Daphne!”

“Police!” Calvin shouted, which had precisely zero effect on the fight beyond.

The crowd parted as he approached, and he saw the thief clamber to his feet, but Daphne reached for him and grabbed his belt. The thief yelled as his jeans were dragged down, and he was forced to drop the cashbox to cling to the front of his pants, lest he flash the farmers’ market crowd with a full-frontal assault.

Blood gushed from Daphne’s face. Her eyes flashed as she hung on to the belt, and she was dragged three feet while the thief tried to stumble away. The front of her jacket was covered in slick red blood. It coated her lips and teeth.

She looked feral. Calvin had never seen that expression on her face before. Not studious, good-girl Daphne, who bristled and looked down her nose at him whenever he’d poked her. Not the girl whose eyes had narrowed when he’d dared speak to her directly. Not the girl who stuck her nose in her books and ignored the world around her like it had done her wrong, when in reality she should’ve been thankful for everything she had.

That Daphne was gone, and in her place was a snarling, screaming beast clinging on to the thief’s belt like she’d die before letting go.

He hadn’t known she’d had it in her. He would’ve expected her to shy away from a fight that had nothing to do with her. The Daphne Davis he knew was selfish. She only cared about herself and her future.

The thief turned and tried to break Daphne’s hold. His foot wound back, and Calvin could tell he wanted to kick the woman currently preventing his escape.

Strength rushed through Calvin. In two strides he was on them, wrapping his arms around the thief’s torso as he wrenched him away from Daphne. He took the thief down to the ground and held him there, then glanced at Daphne.

Panting, he took in her bloodied snarl. “You good?”

She flopped onto her back on the gym floor, tongue darting out to lick her lip. She grimaced. “What do you think, Einstein?”

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