Out of Eden by Beth Ciotta Page A

NYC would have been teeming, even at this early hour. He noted three pedestrians—total. All was calm. Quiet. Routine . Kylie would hate it.
    As he neared McGraw’s Shoe Store, he looked for her motorcycle. Even though she’d closed the store for renovations, he imagined she’d show early in order to put in a full day. According to Ziffel, who’d heard it from Boone, who’d heard it from Stan, who’d heard it from Faye—Kylie and her lone hired hand were handling the bulk of the work, and Kylie wanted to reopen in time for the Apple Festival. They’d need to pull long hours to make her goal. But instead of a sleek silver motorcycle, he spied a beat-up blue pickup.
    Jack pulled to the opposite curb and watched as Travis Martin hefted a box of supplies from the bed of his Chevy, then let himself inside McGraw’s. Kylie must’ve entrusted the man with a key. Bad move, Tiger . Something about Martin bothered him. Just because he had a clean record—and Jack had checked—didn’t mean he was harmless.
    Jack sat tight, observed. Not that there was anything to see. Kylie or Travis, or both, had draped a black tarp over the front windows, concealing whatever changes they were making inside. Given Kylie’s gripe with the ordinary, Jack envisioned pink walls, zebra-cushioned seats and displays featuring impractical shoes. Or maybe practical shoes with a playful twist. Like her flowered work boots.
    He wondered if he should alert Spenser. Not because the store was in his name—Spenser had never cared about shoes—but because Kylie’s actions affected her mom and grandma, too. If she ran the business into the ground, they’d all suffer. On the other hand, who knew? Maybe she’d breathe new life into the old business.
    “Maybe I should wait and see how she fares with the HPS.”
    Shy barked.
    “Right.”
    Just then Kylie roared by and parked her bike behind the Chevy. The first thing he noticed, aside from her cute ass, was her modest clothing. Denim jacket, jeans. Nothing scandalous. Nothing whimsical. Although, wait, were those sneakers orange? Uncommon, but not as unique as the flowered combat boots. Had she already ditched the idea of stirring things up by dressing out of the ordinary?
    Too bad. The boots had been cute, but it was the short skirt he missed. And the boxers. They shouldn’t have been sexy, but they were. Mostly because he’d speculated on the panties beneath the boxers. Bikini? Thong? Or maybe there were no panties. Maybe she’d gone commando. He wondered if those thoughts had crossed Ziffel’s mind. Not that he was jealous—hell, no—just protective of his friend’s sister.
    As he watched her dismount the bike, his thoughts turned to another man. What if she’d decided to shake things up by fooling around with the hardware guy? Or maybe Martin sensed she was vulnerable and intended to seduce her. Not that it was Jack’s business.
    Damn.
    If he sat here any longer, he’d end up inside McGraw’s. “Under what pretense, jackass?”
    “Arrff!”
    “Right.” Better to move on. Put his Aspen in gear and drive directly to the station house. Instead, he opened his door and jerked a thumb at Shy. “Let’s roll.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    K YLIE WAS LOST IN THOUGHT as she pulled off her bike helmet and looped the chin strap over the handlebars. Even though the store would be closed for business, she’d planned a full day. First, she’d put in time with the renovations. Then she’d hit Petunia’s for her hair makeover. This afternoon she’d plead her case with the Historic Preservation Society. At some point today, she’d at least try to get in touch with Spenser. On the ride into town the thought occurred that not informing him about the renovations wasn’t so much daring as cowardly. If he balked, she’d just have to convince him that change was good. If she could convince the stuffy HPS, she could convince her adventurous brother.
    She recited her argument in her head for the umpteenth