Page 9 of First Date: Divorce (Wyoming Marriage Association #1)

“I’d trade in my badge for a full-time career as a cake-sampler. Your cakes, anyway,” K.D. said to Ellyn after the first bite of the last cake option. She closed her eyes so she could concentrate on the next bite. “This is beyond sinful.”

“The cake? That’s not what you’re reacting to. You like the icing,” Eric said.

Her eyes popped open.

To his slow, easy smile. She felt it pulling her mouth toward an answering smile.

“I do have a sweet tooth,” she admitted.

“Tooth? Try a sweet mouth.” Eric winked at her.

Almost before the wink ended, she saw him recognize the double meaning in his words. So she knew he hadn’t done it on purpose.

Yet, there it was — him connecting the notion of a sweet mouth with her — hanging between them, like a rope shrinking with each breath, tugging them closer.

“What a line,” Grif said. “Wish I’d come up with it.”

Thank you, Grif . His words snapped that rope, and reminded K.D. of the other people in the room.

Ellyn said, “You still haven’t said which cake.”

“Any of them, truly. As long as it has this butter cream frosting. It’s amazing.”

“Chocolate for me,” Eric said.

“Okay, then one white cake and one chocolate—”

“ Two cakes? They’ll go to waste with—”

“Have you met our kids? Cake never goes to waste,” Grif said.

“—so few people—”

“And with Cully among the few, the kids might not get a chance.”

“Says the man who happened to show up in time for the cake-tasting,” his wife said with an indulgent smile.

“Hey, I had to sit around not sampling while I smelled all these being baked and watched them being frosted. It’s about time I got some.”

Rebecca pointed her fork at K.D. “You do have a point, though, about how few people we’ll have to look like guests.”

“Pauline’s coming. She’s supposed to have introduced us, so it makes sense.” Eric reached across K.D. for a forkful of the chocolate cake she’d left on her plate while eating the frosting around it.

Kendra snapped a photo.

“Pauline helps,” Rebecca said, “but we can’t invite more because of the secrecy Every shot Kendra takes will show the same few supposed guests. All of them us.”

“Will the people at Marriage-Save recognize you?” K.D. asked.

“Not the people who’ll be looking at your photos and video. The professional staff came in from elsewhere,” Ellyn said. “We don’t go up to Bardville regularly and those employees don’t come down here. But locals work there who could recognize us, so be careful about showing them around.”

“I’ve had an idea about making it look like your wedding had more guests,” Kendra said.

“If everybody has a different outfit for the top and bottom, I’ll shoot mostly waist-up, then waist down.

Everybody changes — be sure to tell Pauline, Eric — and I’ll do the ups and downs again, doubling the guests visually.

Add creative angles, only slices of faces, and it’ll be fine.

As long as I’m careful with the editing. ”

“Great idea, Kendra,” Ellyn said.

“Now that we’re all reenergized by cake, we can get you two outfitted with stuff I brought to indicate other seasons, including a few Christmas things. A fire in the fireplace, too, for winter cozy shots. Then we’ll take pictures in the barn and outside.

With a contented sigh, Ellyn said, “This is working out splendidly.”

*

The fake wedding rested in good hands.

She’d handle the investigative part.

But the divorce depended on her and Eric.

K.D. wasn’t blind to needing him to pull this off, even if she would have preferred a scenario that didn’t depend on anyone else.

On their drive back to Bardville she had a petty example of that when she had to ask him to stop at a big box discount store off the highway.

“Want to pick up a few things to supplement my packing for this assignment.”

He said sure, then accompanied her deep enough into the store that she realized he didn’t intend to peel away and do his own thing.

“I’m shopping,” she said.

“Yeah.”

“I prefer to be alone.”

His eyebrows hiked. But he said only, “Okay. Call me when you’re done.”

*

K.D. Hamilton not only didn’t demand he dance attendance on her while she shopped, she didn’t want him around.

He wasn’t an idiot. She wasn’t Hilary. But that sure put an exclamation point on the fact.

He hadn’t gone with Hilary that often when she shopped. Not after the first couple times. For one thing, he couldn’t have held down his job and accompanied her as much as she shopped.

Why hadn’t that rung an alarm bell in his head?

Or hadn’t he listened to the alarms?

Sitting on an impressively stylish sofa in the fitting room of a high-end Chicago store, while Hilary tried on clothes, talked clothes with the clerk — surely called something else in this place — and modeled her favorites.

He’d hated it.

He knew that at the time. But he figured it as something you did for someone you loved.

He’d seen examples of that with his parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, neighbor families, and more recently his older siblings and their spouses.

One member of a couple doing something because the other member loved it.

Yet he’d been deeply uncomfortable. Not the sofa’s fault. Store would be pretty stupid to make it anything but comfortable for significant others to wait around.

He’d ignored that discomfort. Although he’d dug his heels in about not going shopping with her. She’d objected until he’d promised to still pay her shopping bills.

Yeah, another sign he’d ignored.

Now he examined his reaction in the bright light of hindsight … and the store’s lighting.

He’d been uncomfortable because at some level — well below consciousness, unfortunately — he’d recognized what was between Hilary and him wasn’t the same as those loving couples populating his life.

They didn’t do everything the other person wanted, as Hilary expected.

And there was reciprocity. Not one spouse only giving, the other only taking.

He hadn’t realized that before — neither that he misread the good marriages he’d seen up close or that his subconscious tried to make him aware his relationship with Hilary wasn’t the same.

His phone rang.

If K.D. Hamilton had already finished she was a woman in a hundred million.

It wasn’t K.D.

It was Cully.

“What kind of cake did you pick?” asked the sheriff of Shakespeare County of someone soon to go undercover for his investigation.

“Dill pickle with prune juice frosting.”

“You would. Fine. I’ll find out from Ellyn. She’s nice.”

“Beyond nice. Hell, she’ll probably make you your own cake.”

“Hey, good idea. I’m calling her as soon as we’re done here.”

“We’re done as far as I’m concerned. Feel guilty about siccing you on Ellyn, but to get rid of you…”

“Not done. Where are you and where’s K.D.?”

He told Cully.

“That’s too far away for spreading gossip about you two that’ll reach Marriage-Save.”

“I think that’s why K.D. picked it.” He didn’t repeat what she’d said about supplementing her packing. He wasn’t protective of her not knowing the precisely right outfits to bring when she hadn’t even known the assignment, he just didn’t feel the need to share with Cully.

“Think? Didn’t she say so? Didn’t you ask?”

“No and no.”

“If you two don’t start working together, you’ll blow it. Tal said some resistance to a working partnership can help with the pose of a couple on the brink of divorce, but it’s a hell of a lot more likely to cause the two of you to butt heads and blow the whole thing.”

“After a brief acquaintance with Tal Bennett, I find it hard to believe he said that in those words … or with that North Carolina drawl.”

“I interpreted his meaning for your non-law enforcement comprehendin’.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Welcome. Here’s more comprehendin’ you need to do. You two get yourselves out and about in town this afternoon. Let the people see you. The more of the big gossips you hit, the better. Then come to the house for dinner tonight.”

“I—”

“Both of you. That’s not an invitation, it’s an order. Grif and Ellyn will be there, along with Bodie and Cambria. Grif and I can give K.D. background on you.”

Eric groaned.

“Bodie and Cambria provide protective coloring to the gathering.”

Eric had met the couple a few times and knew Bodie was Cully’s friend from childhood and the reason both men came to Bardville, Wyoming, from North Carolina. Cambria and Jessa were the reasons they’d stayed.

Apparently taking Eric’s groan as acceptance and thanks, Cully named the time. “And bring your phones. We need to do something about them.”

“What—?”

Before he finished the question, Cully clicked off and another call came through without even ringing.

“Eric?” came K.D.’s voice. “I’m done.”

He spotted her then.

She not only had finished her shopping, she’d paid, and now headed toward the exit where he stood.

Maybe she was a woman in ten million.