Page 95 of Four Steps to the Perfect Fake Date

Without much space to work, Daphne had to forego a full-on kick and settle for a well-placed knee. She exploded into movement, the tiers of her dress flying up in front of her as she angled her knee at Archie’s balls. Air exploded from his lungs when she made contact with the soft flesh, a wheeze of pain not far behind. He doubled over and Daphne stumbled away from him, just in time to see the gate at the end of the pathway fly open.

Grandma Mabel brandished the lid of her precious pot, her face a mask of fury. Ellie wasn’t far behind, the main body of the pot dangling from one hand. The two of them ran down the walkway toward the men, who gaped at them.

“Don’t just stand there,” Archie gasped at Bobby. “Do something!”

Bobby Troy took one step forward. His foot landed on the tines of the rake Daphne had knocked over, flipping the handle up in the process. It hit him square in the face and caused him to stumble back and fall on his ass in a puddle of dirty water and broken terra-cotta.

With a garbled yell, Archie straightened and reached for Daphne. She set her shoulders and faced him, fists bunched, ready to punch.

Her grandmother flew past her and got there first, cast-iron lid held overhead in two white-knuckled hands. She brought the lid down on Archie’s head and watched as he crumpled to the ground, staring down at him with a look of pure disdain.

Archie Jr. groaned, one hand cupping his crotch, the other splayed out at his side. His eyes were hazy and unfocused, but at least he wasn’t dead.

Daphne glanced at her grandmother and gulped.

Grandma Mabel admired the lid. “This thing isgreat,” she said, then turned her eyes to Daphne. “You okay, honey?”

Daphne nodded. “I think so,” she replied, then glanced up when she saw movement in the backyard.

Calvin Flint stood at the end of the walkway, hands dangling at his sides, muscles tensed for action. His gaze flicked over Daphne first, then the men on the ground, then over to Ellie and Grandma Mabel. When his eyes landed on the Dutch oven, understanding dawned in his expression.

It only took one look at his eyes for Daphne to know that he’d guessed the real reason she’d accepted this date with him, and it hadn’t been to save her reputation. What she hadn’t expected was for him to look so utterly devastated.

The emotion cleared from his face in a blink, and the sheriff, stone faced, told them, “You’re all under arrest.”

Step Four: Execute a Clean Break

Chapter 37

Tiredness dragged at Calvin’s eyelids. It weighed down his bones and made it hard for him to think. Even after everyone had been brought to the station and dealt with, after the district attorney had been notified of the arrests, after the first round of interviews had been completed, after he’d gone back home for a couple of hours’ sleep, he still couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d never feel rested again.

His mother and her husband had provided security footage that included video and audio of the altercation outside. Archie Yarrow Jr. wouldn’t be able to wriggle his way out of this one. Calvin had watched the video at least twenty times, and each time he’d been rocked by a riot of emotions.

He hated seeing Daphne at Archie’s mercy, but he couldn’t help but admire her for staying calm. He was hurt and angry that she’d lied to him about her reason for attending the vow renewal, but in doing so, she’d handed him this case on a silver platter. He didn’t know whether to be grateful, relieved, or furious—so he let himself be all three.

What kept circling in his mind was the fact that he’d been right; Daphne hadn’t really wanted to be with him at all. She’d used him. It really had all been a bargain to her, an exchange of services. She’d be his date, and she’d steal her grandmother’s pot back. That weird instinct that had been triggered when he’d sat on the Davises’ couch had been trying to warn him from the start. Mabel really had been asking about half-century-old cast-iron cookware.

How much had Daphne faked? Was any of it real? The laughter, the long evenings on the couch, the way she softened against him? Had she used sex as a way to distract him from what she really wanted?

It had hurt to grow up without a dad and with a mom who didn’t care about him. It had hurt to realize that he was on his own.

But this?

To think that he’d finally found someone he loved, someone he could build a life with ... and all she’d wanted was a worthless bit of cast iron? Calvin didn’t even measure up to acooking pot?

She’d used him to get the pot back, and she’d planned to use him as an excuse to leave the island. Calvin had been the fool who’d thought he deserved something more. He’d never deserved a thing.

The reality was that Calvin wasn’t worth fighting for. He never had been. His mother had let their relationship deteriorate when it should have been her responsibility to be there for him; he hadn’t been a priority to Eileen, even as a hurting preteen and definitely not as a troubled young adult.

And now he wasn’t a priority to Daphne; she’d told him so from the start. He felt so stupid for falling for her. A woman who had the world in the palm of her hand, who accomplished everything she set her mind to. She’d been a brilliant investigator, of course. She was brilliant, period.

And Calvin? Calvin had scraped by with a high school diploma, and his greatest achievement was being handed the reins of a department in shambles, probably because he’d make a good scapegoat if he messed it all up.

No one went to bat for the kid who’d always been bad news. Daphne had probably seen that from the start.

Now back in his office with a cup of coffee as dawn tried its best to lighten the clouds to gray, Calvin stared at the black cauldron sitting on the end of his desk.

All this for an old cooking pot. It wasn’t like Daphne—but then again, what did he know? He’d been fooled by her. He’d actually thought she cared about him.

---