Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I looked around for my boyfriend, but Aiden must still be working on one of the family floats with my cousins. So I took a deep breath and eyed my grandmothers.
Nana O’Shea stood petite and pale, all soft curls and Irish fire. Nonna Albertini was her opposite, tall and striking, dark hair pinned back, eyes flashing like polished brown marble. Gloria, tall and broad in her good spring dress with pink ribbons, glared at them both.
The crowd collectively held its breath, waiting for the fireworks.
Donna, my oldest sister, moved toward me from the other side of the crowd. She had the same elegant features as Nonna with deep brown eyes, strong cheekbones, and a natural grace that turned heads without her even trying. Her beauty was classic and calm. “What is happening?” she whispered.
“I have no idea,” I whispered back, not looking like either of my sisters with my brown hair and greenish-gray eyes. Tessa took after the Irish side, Donna the Italian, and me? Who knew? Shaking my head, my attention returned to the drama. “Where are our parents?”
“They’re still by the float, getting it ready for the parade. They have no idea this is going on.” Tessa’s voice was low.
I hesitated. “I’m not sure what to do.”
“Don’t do anything,” Tessa murmured. “Either Nana is going to issue a curse, or Nonna is going to get out her wooden spoon and start smacking people. Let’s stay here.”
Donna nodded. “Let this unfold.”
The sheriff finally approached the platform, apparently willing to risk the curse, and cleared his throat. “All right, everybody, just take a step back. Why don’t you two come to the station with me, and we’ll figure this out.”
Nana looked down from the dais at me. “Yoo-hoo, Anna. Hi, dear. Looks like I need a lawyer.”
My stomach dropped. Of course I would help my Nana, but this was ridiculous.
Before anyone could react, a small explosion shook the air. The sound snapped through the square, sharp and angry, echoing off the buildings. Smoke spiraled into the sky.
I hated that sound. Small or not, an explosion was an explosion, and I’d been around a few in my life.
We all froze, the crowd going silent. The smell of burnt sugar from the pie table mixed with smoke on the breeze. Then came the murmur with low, nervous gossip rippling through the people.
Nana O’Shea gasped, one hand to her chest. “Good heavens, was that my shop?”
Chapter 2
Nana took off, and I followed, sprinting with the sheriff and my sisters down the block toward the corner. The afternoon sun glared off the windows, and the familiar painted sign, Celtic Moons Herbals, came into view. Smoke coiled from the back of the building, a dirty gray thread unraveling into the pale blue sky.
“My shop,” Gloria called out. “Oh no.”
She had a health and supplement store in the optometrist’s office, right next to Nana’s building.
When we rounded the corner and ran to the rear of Nana’s shop, I stopped cold. The back door was gone. Obliterated. Flames clawed at the frame, orange tongues snapping at the splintered wood.
“Ah, crap,” the sheriff muttered, scanning the scene. “Everyone get the hell back.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second. The fire crew must have already been notified, because the truck swung into view a moment later. My cousins Quint and Knox jumped off the truck, hoses already uncoiling as they hit the ground running. They’d both volunteered with the department since high school, whenever they were in town, and now they looked grimly focused as they doused the flames.
I looked down to see Nana beside me, her face pale beneath her curls. I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, trying to anchor her.
“Why would anyone—” she began.
“Just hold it,” Sheriff Franco said, his tone calm but sharp enough to cut through the panic.
Another voice joined in. “He’s right. Just hold it.”
I turned and found my man, Aiden Devlin, striding toward us. My breath caught before I could stop it. He’d been helping with parade logistics earlier, and now here he was, all tall and Irish-sexy with dark hair, blue eyes, and that slow, capable confidence that gave me the tingles.
He worked for the ATF, which meant explosions were part of his job. And right now, he looked every bit the man who knew what he was doing, even wearing faded jeans and a dark T-shirt, looking casual.
Aiden was very rarely casual.
“Let me check this out.” He followed the sheriff through the wrecked doorway and disappeared into the smoke.
A few tense moments passed. The firefighters were stamping out the last of the flames when Aiden reemerged, his expression grim. “Everyone get back,” he said, motioning with his hands. “Now.”
The sheriff emerged and stood at his side, his eyes fierce. “We have more dynamite in there. Everyone move back to the stage area, or I’m arresting you. Now.”