A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(2)

The kid felt as much at home in the small tourist town as Sun did, having spent every summer in Del Sol with her grandparents since she was two. The fact that she’d twirled through the apartment when they first saw it like a drunken ballerina? Also a strong indicator she would be okay.

Auri loved it, just like Cyrus and Elaine Freyr knew she would. Sun’s parents were nothing if not determined.

And that brought her back to the malfeasance at hand. They were living in an apartment her parents had built. An apartment her parents had built specifically for Sun and Auri despite their insistence it was simply a guesthouse. They didn’t have guests. At least, not guests that stayed overnight. The apartment was just one more clue they’d been planning this ambush for a very long time.

They’d wanted her back in Del Sol. Sun had known that since the day she’d left with baby in hand and resentment in heart. Not toward her parents. What happened had not been their fault. The resentment that had been eating away at her for years stemmed from a tiff with life in general. Sometimes the hand you’re dealt sucks.

But if she were honest with herself—and she liked to think she was—the agonizing torment of unrequited love may have played a teensy-tiny part.

So, she ran, much like an addled schoolgirl, though she didn’t go far. Also, much like an addled schoolgirl.

She’d originally fled to Albuquerque, only an hour and a half from Del Sol. But she’d moved to Santa Fe a few years ago, first as an officer, then as a detective for SFPD. She’d only been thirty minutes from her parents, and she’d hoped the proximity would make her abandonment of all things Del Sol easier on them.

It hadn’t. And now Sun would pay the price for their audacity, their desperate attempt to pull her back into the fold. As would Auri. The fact that they didn’t take Auri’s future into consideration when coming up with their scheme irked. Just enough to cause tiny bouts of hyperventilation every time Sun thought about it.

Auri’s voice drifted toward her, lyrical and airy like the bubbles in champagne. “It looks good on you.”

Sun turned. Her daughter, short and yet somehow taller than she had a right to be at fourteen, stood in the doorway to her room, tucking a T-shirt into a pair of jeans and gesturing to Sun’s uniform.

Instead of acknowledging the compliment, Sun took a moment to admire the girl who’d stolen her heart about three seconds after she was born. Which happened to be about two seconds before Sun had declared the newborn the most beautiful thing this world had ever seen.

Then again, Sunshine had just given birth to a six-pound velociraptor. Her judgment could’ve been skewed.

Though not likely. The girl had inherited the ability to stop a train in its tracks by the time she was two. Her looks were unusual enough to be considered surreal. Sadly, she owed none of her features to Sunshine. Or her grandparents, for that matter.

Auri’s hair hung in thick, coppery waves down her back. Sunshine’s hair hung in a tangled mess of blond with mousy brown undertones when it wasn’t French braided, as it was now.

Auri’s hazel eyes glistened like a penny, a freshly minted one around the depths of her pupils and an aged one that had green patina around the edges. Sun’s were a murky cobalt blue, much like her grandmother’s collection of vintage Milk of Magnesia bottles.

Auri’s skin had been infused with the natural glow of someone who spent a lot of time outdoors. Sunshine was about as tan as notebook paper.

The girl seemed to have inherited everything from her father. A fact that chafed.

“Mom,” Auri said, pursing her pouty lips, “you’re doing it again.”

Sun snapped out of her musings and gave her daughter a sheepish grin from behind the cup. “Sorry.”

She dropped her gaze to the spiffy new uniform she’d donned that morning. As the newest sheriff of Del Sol County, Sun got to choose the colors she and her deputies would wear. For both their tactical and dress uniforms, she chose black. Sharp. Mysterious. Slightly menacing.

And because she wanted to look her best first day on the job, she’d opted for the Class A. Her dress uniform. She ran her fingertips over the badge pinned above the front pocket of her button-down. Inspected the embroidered sheriff’s patch on her shoulder. Marveled at how slimming black trousers really were.

“I do look rather badass, don’t I?”

Auri adjusted the waist of her jeans and offered a patient smile. “All that matters is that you think you look badass.”

“Yeah, well, it’s still crazy. And if I’m not mistaken, illegal on several levels.” How her parents got her elected as sheriff when she’d had no idea she was even running was only one of many mysteries the peculiar town of Del Sol had to offer. “Your grandparents are definitely going to prison for this. And so am I, most likely, so enjoy my badassery while it lasts.”

“Mom!” Auri threw her hands over her ears. “I can’t hear that.”

“Badassery?” she asked, confused. “You’ve heard so much worse. Remember when that guy pulled out in front of me on Cerrillos? Heavy flow day.” She pointed to herself. “Not to be messed with.”

“Grandma and Grandpa won’t go to prison. They’re too old.”

Unfortunately, they were not too old. Not by a long shot. “Election tampering is a serious offense.”

“They didn’t tamper. They just, you know, wriggled.”