Fool's Gold (A sexy funny mystery/romance, Cottonmouth Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

“You know her
well?”
    She gave him that
sometimes-men-are-really-dense look again. “Goldstone is a small
town, you know. Everybody knows everybody. She’s a sweetheart. And
she’s smart. She’s really made that website of hers grow.”
    Holy hell. Maggie knew about that, too. But
did she know Carl might be a customer? “I heard all about the
website. You ever read one of her stories?”
    “No. I’d be embarrassed sharing my
fantasies.”
    Brax would be embarrassed hearing them so he
didn’t press. Her answer did confirm one thing: Carl hadn’t shared
whatever was in that email Simone had sent him. Brax’s last hope
died a fiery death.
    Wouldn’t that be just perfect? If the whole
situation didn’t involve his sister, he’d say it had the makings of
a TV tabloid episode. The kind of thing that ended in an all-out
bitch fight. Or murder.
     
    * * * * *
     
    In the end, he didn’t make it to The Chicken
Coop right away. Patrolling Goldstone’s gravel streets—and there
weren’t many of them—he’d recognized Simone’s blond curls in a
white pickup as she passed in front of him heading out to the
highway. Seeing her was no coincidence. It was divine
intervention.
    Or so he told himself as he followed her
north out of town towards Bullhead, mentally rehashing every word
his sister had said about the woman.
    Animated for the first time since he’d
arrived, Maggie had reseated herself at the kitchen table, the
sunlight making her glow, and told him the when, where, why and how
of Simone Chandler’s life history. The salient point being that
Simone didn’t have a special man in her life, and it was high time
she found one. Great. His sister was matchmaking. Brax was sure
Simone wouldn’t like him knowing all her secrets. Or her failures.
Still, he’d listened dutifully. Simone had been a tech writer with
her own Silicon Valley business that had taken a nosedive when the
bottom fell out of the telecommunications industry. Maybe the ad
she’d fallen across, for a trailer with a real foundation ,
had been her divine intervention when she was down and out.
She’d arrived in Goldstone beaten to a bloody pulp by life, but
she’d thrived in the high desert air and made Goldstone her home.
That was Maggie’s version of the story, and she was sticking to
it.
    Brax didn’t ask how anyone could thrive in
Goldstone. The burg had fallen to its knees in the flood and taken
its last gasping breath in the fire. Now, it was nothing more than
a ghost town. Its citizens were taking a hell of a long time to
figure that out.
    For thirty miles, the desert whipped by the
windows of his SUV, with nothing but road signs breaking the
monotony. That and the vision of blond hair through the rear window
of the truck ahead of him. If she was off to meet Carl at some
out-of-the-way place, Brax would catch them in the act and put a
brotherly end to the affair.
    Instead, she slowed at the Bullhead city
limit, then pulled into a grocery store parking lot, finding a
space near the front while Brax had to cruise the aisles looking
for another. Monday morning at The Stockyard Grocery was apparently
a popular time. She’d already disappeared through the automatic
doors when a car backed out of the spot straight across from
hers.
    More divine intervention. Brax parked,
climbed out, then rested against the back of his SUV to wait. He
was a patient man. A cop had to be. Besides, he indulged himself
with the image of her platform sandals, tanned legs and short
shorts—not that he’d been ogling, merely observing. He preferred
voluptuous to emaciated any day of the week, and Simone Chandler
was definitely of the voluptuous variety. Even her voice held a
sultry, sumptuous note guaranteed to elevate the temperature and
raise a few other things, as well. Boredom was nowhere in sight
when she returned some thirty minutes later, wheeling a cart full
to the brim with paper sacks.
    He crossed the narrow aisle. “Let me get that
for you.” He