Chapter 12
The door to Cotton-Eyed Cup of Joe opened as Sheriff Jacobs exited with a cold brew in his hand.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.” Tai dipped his head in greeting and caught the corner of the door before it could close.
“Tai,” Sheriff Jacobs responded in kind. “How are things going over at Inked by Design?” The uniformed man stepped out of the way to let an out-of-town couple bustle into the coffee shop.
“Business is good.” It was actually more than good.
He was booking out months in advance thanks to word of mouth and the explosion of followers on his social media pages.
Before he’d decided to open his own place, his industry friends had warned him that Little Creek may not have the population to support such a venture and was too remote to be convenient for even those in the surrounding areas.
Thankfully, people didn’t mind traveling once they saw pictures of his work.
Sheriff Jacobs nodded distractedly. Some concerned citizens had sent the man out to the shop when it had first opened, afraid the tattoo parlor would attract a certain variety of riffraff and crime in their little town would skyrocket.
Tai had been happy enough to show Sheriff Jacobs around the place.
He’d walked the lawman through the safety precautions artists in the industry used, assuring him the needles and ink were completely safe.
He also let the police officer flip through his printed portfolio.
If his art didn’t relieve any misgivings, Tai wasn’t sure anything he said would.
The thing was, he limited the designs he put on people’s skin.
If someone wanted a grotesque or demonic tattoo, they’d have to go elsewhere.
Tai was aware that tattooing could have a dark side—everything on the planet could—but he was only interested in creating things that were uplifting and light.
“Stay out of trouble.” Sheriff Jacobs gave a two-fingered salute and walked toward his squad car.
“Always do, sir,” Tai said to the man’s retreating back before striding into the coffee shop.
He had even less time now to get a strawberry banana smoothie before the game.
Thankfully, the line to the register wasn’t long.
He took his place and waited, looking over the room.
His internal system received a jolt when he noticed Evangeline over by the table of straws, napkins, and add-ins such as cinnamon and nutmeg.
Just seeing her brought a smile to his lips.
He was about to step out of line and head over to talk to her, willing to forfeit his smoothie to have a few minutes in her company, when she peeked over her shoulder and quickly looked around.
Nothing necessarily out of the ordinary about her actions, but a radar went off inside Tai just the same. Call it a sixth sense where Evangeline Kelly was concerned. His gut told him the woman was up to something, and he planned to stay put and watch it pan out.
Evangeline furtively glanced over her other shoulder. She was clearly on the lookout to see if anyone was paying any attention to what she was doing so she wouldn’t be caught in her mischief. Not unlike a burglar right before they picked a lock.
She slipped her hand into her pocket as she looked back over her shoulder yet again.
Amusement ignited a warm glow inside Tai’s chest. He’d thought her stalker abilities subpar after her attempt to tail him at the library, but now he knew she was equally bad at any endeavor that required even the most minimal level of covertness.
Whipping her head around every two seconds to make sure no one was watching was like a neon sign drawing everyone’s attention.
She pulled out an envelope, reached forward, and placed the white rectangle between the napkin and straw dispensers.
She was hiding a letter as if the coffee shop were some kind of drop-off location? Why? Who was the letter for? Why not just mail it? A dozen questions zipped through Tai’s mind.
“Iced chai latte for Morgan,” Stacey called out from the other end of the counter.
Evangeline startled, her hand darting out to reclaim the letter she’d only set down a second earlier.
“Oh, Stacey.” Her voice was half an octave higher than normal.
Yeah, no one would be recruiting her to work for a government agency anytime soon.
“This has your name on it.” She handed the envelope to a confused Stacey.
“What is it?” Stacey’s brow wrinkled.
Evangeline shrugged. She tried to hide her excitement behind a faux innocent expression, but the way she slightly bounced on her toes gave her away. “I don’t know. I found it on the table over there.” She waved behind her.
Found it, hmm? More like planted it. Tai dug his hands into his pockets and forced his body to remain relaxed.
Evangeline was oblivious to anyone in the coffee shop except for Stacey and that envelope, and he didn’t want to do anything to draw her attention to himself.
Not yet, anyway. Thankfully the person in front of him ordered a drip coffee instead of an espresso or he might not have been able to eavesdrop on the conversation.
Stacey opened the envelope and withdrew a folded piece of paper. Tai swung his gaze back to Evangeline as the barista silently read. Evangeline had let a smile slip onto her lips. She knew exactly what the letter said.
“You found this?” Stacey looked up, a mixture of bewilderment and badly suppressed wonder on her face.
Evangeline quickly dampened her telling grin. She widened her eyes the same way Tai remembered Hayley doing to convince her parents of her guiltless status after she’d managed to dye their cat blue with Kool-Aid. “Yes. It was wedged between the napkins and straws.”
Stacey peered around Evangeline to study the spot. She chewed on her bottom lip. “You didn’t happen to see who left it there, did you?”
Evangelina tugged her own lips down into a frown. The little minx. “No, I’m sorry. Why? It’s not bad news, is it?”
“No, it’s . . .” Stacey let out a breathy little laugh. “It’s a love letter from a secret admirer.”
A secret . . . Tai buried his mouth in his shoulder just in time to stifle the sound of his cough-covered laughter.
Looked like some poor sop had talked Evangeline into being his messenger à la middle school.
The guy probably should have picked someone who wasn’t so obvious if he wanted to keep the whole thing a mystery.
“What can I get for you today?” The other barista behind the counter drew Tai’s attention, taking his order and money, then measuring out fruit and ice and dumping them into the Vitamix beside the espresso machine.
The blender drowned out any other conversation, and Tai missed what Evangeline said to Stacey before she turned on her heel and almost skipped out the door.
Stacey pivoted and noticed him there, her steps faltering. She hesitated but then seemed to come to some sort of decision. Her mouth firmed as she approached him. “Hey, Tai.”
“Stacey.”
“I have a weird favor to ask you.”
“Go for it.”
She fiddled with the paper in her hand, then held it out to him. “Does this handwriting look familiar to you?”
He studied the script as he quickly read the letter. Wow. Someone had bared his soul and laid it on thick.
Then again . . .
He started once more from the top.
A niggle of something’s not right scratched at his brain.
Not the words themselves—although he certainly had thoughts about those—but the penmanship.
He often tattooed inspirational words or phrases, so he was familiar with different fonts and styles.
He’d even copied the handwriting of loved-ones onto skin.
Men tended to write with more blocky letters and sharp corners, pressing down hard on the pen.
Women’s writing was a bit neater, with more curves and softness to their letters.
If he had to guess, he’d say Stacey’s letter had been written by another woman.
Evangeline hadn’t . . .
She hadn’t written the letter herself, had she? The evidence pointed to that conclusion, but . . .
Man, was that woman twisting him up inside.
He didn’t want to sound like a narcissistic egomaniac, but he hadn’t been imagining the chemistry sparking between them, and it wasn’t one-sided.
She said she didn’t date, but if that was the case, then why in the name of Sam Houston was she writing love letters to Stacey?
Nothing added up.
He lifted his head and handed the letter back, trying to appear nonchalant. “Sorry. Doesn’t look familiar.”
“Yeah, not to me either.” She tucked the letter into her apron pocket. “Not knowing is going to drive me crazy.”
You and me both. “Not a big fan of the secret part of having a secret admirer?”
“I’m flattered, but . . .” She gave a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know.”
Tai took his smoothie, wished Stacey good luck, and headed toward the baseball fields, his head spinning the entire time.
He somehow managed to arrive before the umpire called “Play ball!” Their team was up to bat first, so he took a seat next to Dalton on the bench in the dugout.
The big man stared in the direction of the pitcher’s mound, but he seemed a million miles away.
Tai finished off the last of his smoothie and set the plastic cup beneath the bench under him. “What’s up with you?”
Dalton didn’t move. He hadn’t seemed to have heard Tai at all.
Tai bumped him with his shoulder. “What’s up, man? Head not in the game already? We just started.”
Dalton blinked and turned toward him. “Sorry. Something on my mind.”
“Want to talk about it?”
He started to shake his head, then snorted. “Why not? Lord knows I haven’t been able to figure it out.”
Tai prepared himself for a hard punch of news. Hopefully he’d have some nuance of wisdom to help his friend.
A familiar-looking envelope fluttered onto Tai’s lap. A sense of foreboding twisted his insides. He slipped his finger under the flap and pulled out a sheet of paper, unfolding it. The same neat, rounded handwriting marked the page that he’d seen only a little bit ago.
Relief punched out of his lungs, but he covered the quick exhale of breath with a cough.
Granted, there could be more than one explanation.
Yet even as he tried to think of other possibilities, he knew what he held in his hand and he knew where it had come from—or rather, whom.
What he didn’t know was why. Why was Evangeline writing love letters to both Stacey and Dalton?
His mind flashed back to the last game. To the papers she’d been pouring over in the stands as she’d observed Dalton on the field.
The paper that he’d gotten a glimpse of when the wind had torn it from her possession.
Book checkout histories with handwritten notes in the margins.
Hadn’t made any sense to him at the time, but now . . .
A groan and a laugh battled their way up his throat. He shook his head at the evidence in his hand. That meddling, matchmaking, adorable woman. And she’d called him trouble.
“Where’d you find the letter?” Not that it mattered, but Tai was curious.
“In my shop. Sitting pretty as you please in the middle of the sculpture I’m working on for the town square.”
“You don’t happen to have any security cameras in there, do you? Then you’d know who left it.”
Dalton shook his head. “Haven’t needed any cameras before. My place isn’t exactly the most accessible, you know. I kind of live out in the boonies.”
That was an understatement. Evangeline must’ve had quite the undertaking to find Dalton’s property. Without four-wheel drive, she’d have had to abandon her car and make the trek on foot.
“It doesn’t make sense, though. When could anyone develop feelings for me?
I’m in my shop working most of the time, and when I do venture into town, I keep to myself.
Besides, everyone knows I’m engaged to Rachel.
” He groaned, his head hanging low. “What’s Rachel going to think when I tell her about this?
She’s going to jump to conclusions, isn’t she?
” He lifted his head, his hands reaching out and fisting into Tai’s shirt with desperation.
“I swear I’m not leading any other women on. I love Rachel.”
Tai gently removed Dalton’s hold on him. “Everyone knows you love Rachel. No one is going to think you’ve been cheating, least of all her.”
Dalton gave him a relieved, hope-filled look. “Really?”
“Really. The letter came to you, not the other way around. Knowing Rachel, she’ll probably find the whole thing funny.”
Dalton sighed, and his shoulders relaxed for the first time. “What should I do about that?” He tapped the letter.
Tai folded the paper and put it back in the envelope. “If you want, I can take care of it for you.”
“You can? Really? That would be great, man.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think I know just what to do.”