A Bullet to the Heart by Kathy Wheeler (most read books of all time .TXT) 📕

“Hi, Melinda.”

“Hey, Sheriff. Coffee?”

Jo flinched. She’d been so focused, she hadn’t heard the door’s jangle.

“I hear you’re stuck on this island,” Julius said. “I’ve taken a room at the Island Inn. There’s no reason why we can’t keep seeing one another.”

Jo stared at him.

And his lips were still moving. “I’d like to marry you. Like I said, you left before we could talk.”

She didn’t know how her mouth had not come unhinged and was not hanging open at his shocking proposal. His sheer audacity. She’d known him, what? A matter of weeks?

“Hello, Jo.” Wyn’s shadow from the overhead lighting fell over the table.

She looked up at him and blinked. His uniform was in slight disarray, his hair badly in need of a cut, but windblown back from his face. He sipped at the cup he held.

Julius frowned, scanning the near empty diner. “Where the devil is that waitress? I should have had my coffee by now.”

Jo ducked behind her cup to hide her mirth, wondering what she’d ever seen in him.

Julius shrugged. “Never mind. Sheriff, is there something you wanted? You can’t very well charge me with murder. As I understand it, the drunkard who started that fight the other night survived.”

“I can’t charge you. Yet. But you’re still on the island. There’s plenty of time and I’m a patient man.”

Wyn was taunting him with a brooding coldness that unnerved her. She hardly recognized the man he’d become from the boy she’d known.

Julius looked at Jo, then back at Wyn. “Yeah, I guess I can see you wanting her for yourself,” he said. “Of course, you would.” He raked an insulting look over Wyn. “Don’t you think she’s a bit out of your class?”

Wyn speared her with a look that took her breath away, one she hadn’t seen on his face before—thunderous? Possessiveness?

Melinda gasped.

Jo’s cup clattered to the table’s surface and toppled. She stumbled out of the booth, tripping over Frizzle who jarred it even more with his frantic ramble to escape. Wyn grabbed her arm, righting her.

Melinda tossed a wet cloth on the spilled coffee, not leaving her side. “I think it’s time you left, sir,” Melinda bit out. “You’re not welcome here.” Melinda had Jo’s arm and pulled her back, giving Julius a wide berth.

It didn’t occur to Jo to jerk away.

“Josephine, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that how it sounded. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“It’s time you beat it out of here, and when I say here, I mean be on the next ferry to the mainland.” Wyn tugged the sleeve of his uniform back and peered at his watch. “You have about two hours before the next run. That should give you enough time to pack and check out of the Island Inn.”

Julius moved out of the booth, took a step toward Jo. “Sweetheart, please—”

Jo matched his step going backward. “—I think you should leave.” She spoke softly, then let Melinda lead her out through the kitchen. “I’m sorry he treated you like that.”

“You think someone like him bothers me? I could take him with two hands tied behind my back. Why, I’d kill him myself if I didn’t have an irrational fear of small, enclosed spaces. You know, like a cell.”

A burst of sharp laughter erupted from Jo. She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah. I see what you mean.”

“I, uh, heard you were already engaged. Was it to him?”

“I was never engaged.” Now that she’d seen in the light of day, so to speak, she could never marry Julius Styles. Not to save her life, not to save the terms of the will. Would she? No. A chilled shudder crawled over her skin. Would it always be like this? Men coming after her because of what she was worth—and that was only if Jackson and her sisters complied with the terms as well. What if she married someone and one of the others didn’t comply? Then she’d be stuck. What had Victor been thinking?

Oh, God. “What am I going to do?”

Melinda hugged her.

It took everything in Jo not to recoil. Instead, though, Jo forced herself to pat Melinda awkwardly on the shoulder before she stepped away. “I should probably get back to the manor.” But being cornered by Eleanor was worse than being stalked by some gold digger. Frizzle pressed against her leg.

Melinda leaned back against the enormous, antiquated oven, with her chin resting against the back of her hand, considering Jo as if she were a bug under a microscope. “You know what you need? A night out. I’ll close up early, and we can go to the tavern. Have a couple of cocktails.” She glanced at Frizzle. “We might have a problem with the dog.”

The door jangled again, and voices sounded from the dining room.

“Hang on, hon. I’ll be right back.”

“Hey, Ms. Weatherford. What are you doing in the kitchen? Did Melinda hire you? I hear’d she was hiring a new waitress. You need the money?” Davin was Cobblestone’s longtime cook. If memory served, he’d worked for Melinda’s parents when they ran the café. His bald head was a beacon, but his bright, gap-toothed smile flashed a happy welcome. He completely ignored the fact that her dog was standing in the kitchen.

“Hey, Davin. No—” Wait, what if she did work for Melinda? How hard could it be? It would go far in alleviating any boredom. It wasn’t like she could rush to the city for her job back at the MET. “Um, uh, yes. I’m the new waitress.”

“You better get changed into your uniform then. With Halloween on the horizon, things are gonna get purty spooky.” His chortle boomed against the kitchen walls.

“What are you saying? You can’t work here!” Melinda told her ten minutes later. “Lord have mercy. I’ll be the laughingstock of the town when they learn I’m paying Victor Montgomery’s heir a measly nine dollars a week. Not only that, winter’s comin’.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“No business, hon. No business,