Nearly Beloved: Miss Fortune World: Sinful Stories, #4

By Shari Hearn

Hell has finally frozen over. Gertie's getting married!

Or… is she?

When a charming gold-digger by the name of Cliff Dow comes to Sinful and steals from their friend, Marie, the Swamp Team 3 decides to get even by publicly shaming him at the "When Hell Freezes Over" wedding of the century.

And everything's going according to plan until… Well, this is Sinful after all.

Meanwhile, a mystery woman also arrives. She says she's a FEMA representative. But Fortune thinks otherwise. She's met her before. But where? More importantly, is she friend or foe?

Nearly Beloved (Sinful Stories Book 3) takes place after the events of Hurricane Force, Book 7 of Jana DeLeon's Miss Fortune series.

A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR: Nearly Beloved was first published on April 26, 2016 as part of the Miss Fortune Kindle Worlds program (which ended in July of 2018). It is now part of the Miss Fortune World published by J&R Fan Fiction. I wish to thank Ms. DeLeon for graciously allowing other writers to explore their own writing in a most Sinful way.

Sinful Stories is a series of stories written by Shari Hearn within the Miss Fortune World featuring Fortune, Gertie and Ida Belle. They may be read in any order; however, they do follow the timeline of Jana DeLeon's Miss Fortune series with regard to Fortune's relationship with Carter. With the earlier books in the series, Carter doesn't know Fortune's true identity. As Jana DeLeon's series changes with regard to Fortune's continued threat from Ahmad, future stories within Sinful Stories will reflect those changes.

Currently, the stories within Sinful Stories include:

Nearly Departed

Mutiny on the Bayou

Overdue

Nearly Beloved

Rematch

Leaving Sinful

Murder on the Sinful Express

• Language: English
• Publisher: J&R Fan Fiction
• Release date: Aug 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386956938

Book preview

Acknowledgements

THANK YOU, KATHLEEN, Carla and Janet for all your wonderful notes.

A special thanks to Jana DeLeon for allowing writers to play in the Sinful sandbox.

Cover design by Susan Coils at CoverKicks.com

Chapter One

MERLIN HEARD THE NOISE seconds before I did. That’s what I appreciate about cats. They make good early-warning systems. Even if they do take up half the bed.

Crunch-crunch-crunch.

Footsteps on gravel outside the back door. Gravel that I had placed a couple of weeks ago after I discovered the local mobsters, Big and Little, sitting in my kitchen, paying me a late-night visit. I had vowed then that no one was going to make it inside my house without me greeting them with a weapon in hand.

I sprang up from the bed and pulled on a pair of shorts, grabbed my nine-millimeter off the dresser and shoved it in my waistband. After flying down the stairs, I crept to the edge of the archway into the kitchen.

My heart rate ticked up a notch at the tapping on metal I heard from just outside the door.

7:13 passed to 7:14 AM on the microwave clock as I padded into the kitchen and over to the door. Slowly I pulled the curtains open an inch and peered out. A man crouched to the right of the steps. A toolbox sat on the gravel next to him.

What the hell was he doing? There was only one way to find out.

I turned the deadbolt, grateful I give it a WD-40 bath once a week. No squeaky lock was going to give me away. After three calming breaths, I burst through the door and trained my weapon on the intruder.

Freeze! I screamed.

The man gave a start in response.

Put your hands up and turn around slowly.

He did. His right hand held a wrench.

His face held his shock.

What the hell? he said.

Carter?

He stood. Just because you know how to use that thing doesn’t mean you should go waving it in someone’s face.

What are you doing sneaking around my house at seven in the morning?

I mean it, he whispered. You may not know this, but librarians and former beauty queens don’t go charging into these situations.

I shuddered in anger and whispered back, Just because you know who I really am doesn’t mean you can tell me how I’m supposed to maintain cover.

Ever since Carter discovered that I was a CIA assassin hiding in Sinful from an arms dealer who had put a price on my head, things between us had gotten complicated, to say the least.

He folded his arms. I’m in charge of protecting this town. And the more you act like a trained operative the more likely you’ll attract unwanted attention.

You really don’t have to look out for me. To be honest, I was touched to see our recent breakup hadn’t dampened his concern for me. Still... I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.

Don’t I know it. But I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about the unsuspecting citizen who gets in the way.

My heart sunk a little. I tucked the gun in the waistband of my shorts. Fine. I’ll cut down on waving my gun around and you’ll alert me the next time you go sneaking around my house early in the morning. Which brings me to my original question. What are you doing?

He nodded toward the faucet just to the left of the door. A couple of weeks ago I noticed the faucet was looking a little rusted, so I ordered one and it arrived yesterday. I just thought I’d stop by before work and install it before you woke up. So I wouldn’t disturb you.

The handle of the new faucet was a frog perched on a lily pad. Not my style, but cute. I wrapped my arms around myself. You know, just because we’re no longer seeing one another doesn’t mean we can’t actually ‘see’ one another at the same time. We’re both adults.

He sighed. I wasn’t afraid to ‘see’ you. That’s not why I stopped over early. Just wanted to get it done before work. I have no problem seeing you. We’re still friends.

He knelt back down on the ground and finished tightening the valve. The problem with still being friends, of course, was that the temptation was always there to go beyond friendship. And it seemed lately we were always running into one another. If we had had a bitter, all-out screaming fight and hated each other, it might actually be easier. I focused on the crown of his head, where his hair swirled and changed direction. I always wondered what it looked like when he just got out of bed.

Don’t think about his cowlick. Turn and walk back inside. You’re just getting used to not being with him. For God’s sake, whatever you do, don’t invite him in for coffee.

Want to come in for some coffee?

Damn! What’s wrong with you?

I mean, want me to bring you a cup of coffee? Outside?

He sighed. Maybe I shouldn’t.

I nodded. Then maybe you shouldn’t come over with your sexy little cowlick swirling like a hurricane on the top of your head, tempting me to play storm chaser and run my hands through it.

He stood again. Well, maybe half a cup.

I’ll bring it outside.

Yeah... that’s probably best.

I noticed a little trickle of blood on his hand. Did you cut yourself?

Huh?

I reached for his hand and held it up. Right there.

Must have done that when I was taking the old part off. It was corroded and...

He stopped. We both felt it. That damned attraction that just wouldn’t go away. But then, another thing... We were being watched. He pulled his hand away and we both turned toward the corner of the house.

No, that’s okay. Go ahead. Don’t mind me.

Gertie stood next to the magnolia, a big grin on her face.

How long have you been standing there? Carter asked.

Just got here, why? She smiled. What did I miss?

Carter stopped by to fix a rusty faucet.

Gertie snorted. Uh-huh. Her face contorted as she flashed us an overly exaggerated wink.

He picked up his tool box. And I was just leaving. I think I’ll pass on the coffee.

Sure.

He looked at Gertie. She’s all yours.

Aren’t you going to kiss her goodbye? Gertie asked.

Gertie!

Carter blushed and bent down to pick up his toolbox. If you have any problems with it, he said, straightening up, just give a call.

I’m sure it’ll be fine.

He nodded. Well... see you around.

As soon as he disappeared around the house Gertie walked over to me. Tell me you’re back together and he spent the night.

No and no. Don’t you ever sleep in?

I actually planned to this morning, but I got a call from Marie. She needs our help.

With what?

She wouldn’t say, exactly, just that it involved a man. You up for a little mission?

We just had a few ‘little’ missions. Let’s see... the past week we almost got blown up from a bomb in your casket at your fake funeral and had to find the bomber, and... what am I missing? Oh yeah, we were involved in a ‘little scuffle’ in New Orleans where I came this close to getting killed. I placed my finger and thumb about an inch apart, but then closed it to a whisper of space between them. Yeah, it was that close. And if Ida Belle hadn’t been such a crack sniper, I wouldn’t be here.

She waved me off. That all happened last week. This is this week. We’re meeting Marie at Francine’s. Today’s special is sweet potato biscuits and Andouille sausage scramble. Your favorite.

I sighed. Fine. I’m not going back to bed anyway. But I need to shower. I’ll meet you there in about twenty minutes.

Ida Belle and Gertie were already seated at a corner four-top when I arrived. I waved to Ally as I stepped inside the café and made my way toward them. Just then a loud honking noise erupted from a short hallway leading past the kitchen and bathrooms into the back exit. Francine’s was less than half filled, average for an early Wednesday morning, most of them seniors or people having breakfast before work. Several of the diners snickered at the sound, but most held in their laughter. The loudest belly laughs came from Gertie who ignored the dirty looks Ida Belle was shooting her way. Another loud honk sent Gertie into a rolling fit of laughter.

Three coffees and three plates of breakfasts sat on the table. I assumed the half-eaten omelet in front of the empty chair belonged to Marie.

And another honk.

I sat in the fourth chair. Is that Marie? I asked, flicking my head toward the hallway.

Gertie nodded, laughing too hard to speak.

Stop that, Ida Belle said. You know Marie has that deviated septum. She looked at me. When she blows her nose, it sounds like a duck.

More like a duck in heat, Gertie said under her breath, snorting.

Francine came over to our table with a pot of coffee. She should take that nose of hers outside. Why doesn’t she have surgery or something?

She’s afraid they’ll accidentally cut her nose off.

Francine lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

That’s what she told me, Gertie said.

Francine glanced at me. Coffee?

Yes, thanks. I waited as she filled my cup, then took a sip as another of Marie’s honks cut through the café chatter. Francine rolled her eyes and moved to the next table, filling more mugs.

Is this why you asked me here? So I could come listen to Marie blow her nose? I actually had a day of relaxation planned.

Ida Belle glanced over at the hallway. She must have come to Francine’s as soon as Marie called, as her hair was still wound with curlers, hidden under a silk scarf. Marie called us about a problem she’s having with a man.

Gertie wiped at her eyes. We figured since you have more current experience dating men, you should be in on this.

Dating? I didn’t know Marie was seeing a man.

Neither did we, Ida Belle said. I wasn’t able to get much out of her, except that he’s the new guy who just moved to Sinful last week. Cliff Dow.

You can’t miss him, Gertie added. Late sixties. Sharp dresser. Still has his hair.

Ida Belle nodded. Not thick like Walter’s, but it still covers his head. Anyway, then she said something about being a failure, broke out in tears and ran into the hallway.

That’s when the honking began, Gertie said, shuddering as she held in some forbidden laughs. Then a shocked look crossed her face. Wait a minute. You don’t think she meant she was a failure... she whispered, in the bedroom, do you?

I closed my eyes. Okay, there’s an image I could have done without.

I’ll second that, Ida Belle said.

Gertie shrugged. I don’t mean it as a criticism. I’m just being realistic. When you get up into the seventies, sex begins to feel like a game of Twister. And Marie was always terrible at Twister. Her hips just couldn’t—

Ida Belle reached over and rapped Gertie on the head. We didn’t want to think about it.

Marie stepped