Love and Mistletoe (2 page)

Naomi’s expression was dubious. “I certainly hope so. This has wiped out the last of my savings.”

“It’ll be no problem, Nomes,” Sharon said cheerily. “Trust me.”

Rummaging through a cupboard, she located the kitchen scales behind a broken toaster and her brother’s bong. She stood and stretched her back like a cat. “Hey, if our bath product range takes off, we might persuade a couple of shops in town to stock them. I know Olivia sells stuff like that at the Cottage Café.”

“Don’t jump the gun.” Worry lines creased Naomi’s normally smooth forehead. “We haven’t made our first batch yet. It might be a disaster.”

“Such pessimism! Relax. It’ll all be grand. What you need is a large glass of vino before we get to work.” She wrenched open the fridge and assessed its contents. Beer, beer, and more beer. Sausages, bacon, and moldy cheese. She extracted a carton of milk and sniffed.
Holy mother
. When had it gone off? A shudder of revulsion ran through her body. Thank God she rarely ate at home. Standards in the MacCarthy household had never been high. Since Ma died, they’d plummeted to a record low.

Grabbing the lone bottle of wine and slamming the fridge door shut, she pivoted on her platform heels and almost tripped over a mobile bundle of fur. “Well, hey there, Wiggly Poo. Did you have a nice snooze?” She bent down to stroke the dog’s curly fur. He wagged his tail and gave her a generous lick. “Buttering me up, eh? At least one male in my life loves me enough to kiss me. What’s it you’re after? Food?”

The labradoodle darted to his bowl and waited, panting and tongue lolling in expectation. Sharon plonked the wine on the counter and rooted through her bag for the tin of dog food that her boss, Bridie Byrne, had given her earlier in the day. She emptied it into the bowl, and the dog consumed the foul-smelling substance with gusto.

Naomi switched the oven on to preheat for the bath bombs. “How long are you dog-sitting?”

“Just for this evening. Bridie’s minding him while Fiona and Gavin are off on a romantic weekend, but she didn’t want to leave him alone in her house while she was out at bingo. He’s a little on the wild side and has a penchant for ornaments.”

Naomi laughed. “Sounds like you and he are a matched pair.”

“Get away with you.” Sharon uncorked the wine and poured two generous glasses. “I’ve cleaned up my act since Ma got sick. I promised her I’d get my psychology degree, and get it I will.” She scrunched up her nose. “Concentrating on my studies would be a whole lot easier if I didn’t have to live with Da. The second I can afford a place of my own, I’m out of this dump.”

Naomi raised her glass. “Then let’s hope the bath product plan bears fruit.”

“
Sláinte
.” They clinked glasses, and Sharon took a sip of wine, relishing the tart taste on her tongue.

A crash outside in the farmyard made her choke midswig.

“What was that?” she spluttered. She raced to the kitchen window and yanked back the frayed net curtains. Through the dark mist, she could perceive only the pitch black of the night.

Naomi moved to her side, craning to see. “Did one of the cows get out, do you think?”

“Dunno.” Sharon was already moving toward the mudroom and the door to the yard. She snagged her jacket from its peg and grabbed her scarf.

“Are you sure you want to go out there alone?” Naomi pulled her cardigan tight around her thin body. “It’s creepy when it’s this dark.”

“I’ll be grand. It’s probably just one of the animals. Besides,” she said with a grin, “I don’t see you offering to join me.”

Her friend shuddered. “I don’t like the dark at the best of times. Out on a farm with wild animals roaming? Nuh-uh.”

Sharon laughed. “
Domesticated
animals, you eejit. You’d swear we had lions prowling the property.”

“All the same, I’m staying put.”

“Suit yourself.” Grabbing a flashlight, Sharon ventured out into the dark.

Rain fell in heavy sheets, forcing her to yank up her hood. Up until a couple of months ago, they’d had floodlights that came on when they sensed movement. When they broke, Da hadn’t bothered to fix them, insisting a flashlight would suffice and was a hell of a lot cheaper. Sharon shivered in the damp chill air, cursing herself for not wearing a heavier coat.

“Woof!”

She whirled round to see Wiggly Poo slip out the door and dance at her feet. “Daft dog.” She petted him and buried her nose in his curly fur. He was a crap guard dog, but she was glad to have his company. Despite her bravado, the dark farmyard was kind of creepy. She shivered beneath her thin jacket. The weird sensation of being watched sent prickles down her spine. If only Da would fix the damn floodlights.

Picking her way carefully over the cobblestones, she headed toward the cowshed. All quiet, save for the odd moo. It was a similar story in the sheep’s enclosure and in the henhouse. The familiar sounds and smells were bittersweet. When she was little, they’d had a farm full of animals. Now they were down to six cows, eight sheep, and four hens. Times had changed on the MacCarthy farm, and not for the better.

She closed the door of the henhouse. Whatever had caused the crash wasn’t apparent out here. “Come on, Wiggly Poo. Let’s get back inside before we’re soaked through.”

Back in the kitchen, Naomi had started weighing and mixing the ingredients to make bath salts. “No luck?” she asked, raising an eyebrow when Sharon and Wiggly Poo returned from their outside adventure, wet and bedraggled.

“I don’t know what caused the noise. The animals all seem fine.” She leaned over her friend’s shoulder and sniffed the air. “Divine. What scent combo are you making?”

“Lemongrass and lavender. We can add a little purple food dye to give it an appealing color.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get started on the bath bombs.”

“Woof!” Wiggly Poo was on the alert, racing to the window and jumping up to press his paws against the glass. “Woof!”

“What’s up with him?” Naomi asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Sharon’s shoulders slumped. “Feck. I hope it’s not Da. He said he wouldn’t be home until late tonight.”

The labradoodle was growling now, the menacing sound mitigated by his cute and fluffy appearance.

Naomi’s dark eyes widened. “Do you think there’s a pervert out there? I told you I thought someone was watching us when we were unloading the car.”

“A wanker? He’d need to be seriously desperate to venture out on a night like this.” Wiggly Poo was growling at the window. “Oh, for feck’s sake.” Sharon marched to the window and threw it open.

A pale face loomed before her, light blue eyes darting from side to side, panicked. “You were right, Nomes. It
is
a pervert.” Sharon crossed her arms over her bosom and grinned. “Hello, Garda Glenn.”

BRIAN STAGGERED BACK from the window ledge. His mouth moved but his brain was having trouble connecting with his tongue. The furry mutt, acknowledging him as a nonpredator, morphed from snarling antagonism to drooling delight. Its human companion leaned out of the window, wearing a fuchsia-lipsticked grin and a very low-cut top.

He blinked and tried to focus on anything but her silky-skinned cleavage. “It’s Wiggly Poo,” he muttered, finding his voice. “I thought—”

“That he was a savage beast terrorizing Ballybeg?” A plucked eyebrow arched above Sharon’s sparkly blue eye shadow. “Thank you for your concern, Garda Glenn. It’s comforting to know Ballybeg’s police force takes its duties so seriously. I’ll be sure to tell Bridie to make a poster warning people about the rabid labradoodle who’s liable to lick them to death.”

Mortification burned a path up his cheeks. “We wondered if your dad was still involved in dog fighting.”

The thin eyebrow arched even higher. “We?”

“Evening, Ms. MacCarthy.” Seán’s voice rang across the yard. He emerged from behind the water trough and strode across the cobblestones with a swagger that Brian would love to emulate. Knowing his luck, any attempt at a swagger would result in him slipping on the slick stones and landing on his arse.

“Sergeant Mackey.” A stiffness had entered Sharon’s tone. She didn’t like Seán. Brian had gotten that vibe off her before but didn’t assume her preference for him over his partner was a compliment. More than likely, she took Seán’s position as police sergeant seriously, whereas she regarded Brian as a massive joke.

His partner stopped before the window, exuding charm and authority in equal measure. “Garda Glenn and I took a stroll and heard barking. We thought we’d come up and investigate.” He flashed an ingratiating smile, but the effect was lost on Sharon.

“No way could you have heard Wiggly Poo from the road. Besides”—she gestured toward Brian’s neck—“binoculars? Hello? You two must take me for an eejit.”

“Busted,” Seán said, nonplussed. “We came up here to check on suspicious activity. Didn’t we, Garda Glenn?”

“Like what?” Sharon’s gaze roved between them, settling on Brian’s still-burning face. “Two women hanging out on a Saturday night?”

“We thought—” Brian caught Seán’s warning glance. “Okay,
I
thought… you and Naomi were talking in the pub about manufacturing product.”

Her thickly lashed eyes widened, and her expression turned to granite. “And you assumed that
product
was drugs? Despite me not having any history of drug consumption or dealing, being a MacCarthy is sufficient to have the pair of you sniffing around the farm at night, scaring the crap out of us?”

“Hang on a sec.” He wasn’t letting her derail his investigation that easily. “You and Naomi
were
discussing ingredients and chemicals. The pair of you clammed up lightning fast when I approached the counter.”

She folded her arms across her chest, elevating her impressive breasts even further. “Naomi and I are entitled to have a private conversation without the local constabulary listening in, but if you’re curious to know what we’re making, you’re more than welcome to sample our wares. Go round to the back door, and I’ll let you in.” With that, she slammed the window shut.

He bounced on the balls of his feet, darting a glance at Seán. “Have I made a major cock-up?”

“Come on,” his partner said with a resigned sigh. “We’d better keep her sweet lest she file a complaint with the superintendent.”

That was the last thing Brian needed. He’d worked hard to convince the super to approve his college tuition in spite of the tight budget. Pissing the man off now would not be a smart move.

When they rounded the side of the house, light spilled out from the open back door. Sharon stood on the threshold, hands on hips, a sardonic curl to her plump lips. “Come on in, lads. Welcome to our den of iniquity.” Catching Brian’s look of surprise, she added, “Yes, I have read
Gone with the Wind
, Garda Glenn. I can and do read, shocking though that might be to you, especially given that I work part-time in a
book shop
.”

A book shop he’d accused her of vandalizing only a few months previously…
Damn.
He’d better pray they found something incriminating in the house to warrant tonight’s escapade.

He wiped his muddy boots on the doormat and released himself from the confines of his thick scarf. A strange smell wafted through the mudroom, teasing his nostrils. It reminded him of something, but he couldn’t pinpoint the source.

“The kitchen’s through here.” Sharon closed the back door and led them toward a smaller door. “Watch the step on your way down.”

When they entered the kitchen, the smell was overpowering. It wasn’t unpleasant. Far from it.
But pungent
…

Naomi Bekele was removing a baking tray from the oven, the beads in her hair jangling with her every movement. She froze when she saw them, her mien wary. If Sharon was no more than average-looking, Naomi was a stunner. Light brown skin stretched over high cheekbones, slim-but-shapely figure, and soulful brown eyes. Brian had always felt he should fancy Naomi and was more than a little irritated with himself that he didn’t. His gaze slid toward Sharon. She was keeping a tight grip on the labradoodle, which was straining to greet the new visitors.

“He’s a crotch sniffer.” The trademark cheeky grin slid back into place. “Might be more than poor Garda Glenn can take, especially when he’s about to be confronted with the shocking sight of our drug-dealing endeavors.”

Naomi’s doe eyes grew large. “Our what?”

“Brian here thinks you and I have gone into business as Ballybeg’s latest drug dealers.” She turned to Brian, catlike. “You don’t mind me calling you Brian, do you? You’ve hauled me down to the station so many times over the years that I feel we’re intimately acquainted.”

Was it his imagination, or did she place a special emphasis on the word “intimately”? The stab of lust took him unawares. He bit his tongue, remembering all too clearly the humiliation of discovering he’d been wrong to accuse her of trashing the Book Mark last year. He swept an arm toward the stacks of ingredients on the counter. “If you’re not manufacturing drugs, what’s all this paraphernalia?”

Sharon jerked a thumb at the baking tray. “Bath bombs. Neither an explosive nor a mind-altering substance was used in their creation.” Her lips twisted into a sly grin. “You’re more than welcome to try one out in the upstairs bath. I promise I won’t peek.”

He exhaled through his teeth, excising an erotic image of them naked in a bubble bath. “I’ll pass, thanks,” he said gloomily, seeing his longed-for promotion vanish behind a dark cloud. He’d jumped the gun. Again. Once more, it was over Sharon MacCarthy.

Seán sniffed at a bowl containing small, purple-colored rocks. “What are these crystal things?”

“Bath salts. We’re planning to sell them at the Christmas bazaar.” Sharon slid an amused look at Brian. “Unless the Ballybeg police force has a reasonable objection to our enterprise.”

“We wouldn’t dream of objecting.” Seán revealed the slow, crinkly-eyed grin that had most of the female population of Ballybeg swooning.

Sharon didn’t blink. “Are we done here? Because Naomi and I have bath bombs to bake and wine to consume.”

“Sure.” Seán straightened and turned toward the exit. “We’ll leave you ladies to it. Right, Garda Glenn?”