“Oh,” Milo repeated with a grin. “I don’t know if you’ve caught on, but that was my first surprise hookup too. I guess it’s not really a one-night stand if we’re dating now.”
“Are we dating?”
His grin widened. “I mean, we’ve had dinner twice, went out for drinks once, you slept over at my house last night, and my cat is obsessed with you.”
A giggle bubbled up in my throat and escaped before I could lock it down. “Right. Dating, then. I guess if we hadn’t been dating, those cookies would have forced the issue.”
Milo burst out laughing just as his nephew tore open the door and careened to a stop beside us. The kid grinned up at me as he shoved a pile of mail into Milo’s chest. Though Milo let go of my hands to grab the stack of envelopes and catalogs, he slipped one arm around my waist.
“Hi,” Carter said. “Are you Uncle Milo’s girlfriend now?”
Even though we’d just cleared up the dating issue, I hesitated long enough for Milo to answer for us both.
“Yup. Got homework to do?”
Carter ignored the question to ask me, “Are you gonna hang out with us for a bit?”
“Am I going to distract you from your homework?” I countered.
“Nah, I did some of it on the bus already. I only have a page of math problems left to do. I heard you beat Uncle Milo at Mortal Kombat. Even Dad can’t beat him most of the time.”
I allowed myself a moment to feel smug, then nodded. “Sure, I’ll hang out for a while, if it’s okay with your uncle.”
Milo grinned, squeezed my hip, and murmured, “Absolutely. Come on, as the guest of honor, you get the un-wobbly stool.”
Once we were all situated behind the counter, Milo started sorting through the mail. This row of storefronts shared a big, rusty mailbox outside of Dueling Dragons’ front door, and Carter explained that it was his job to bring it in on the days he came after school. After Milo sorted it, Carter would deliver it to the shop on the other side, which did custom framing for photos and artwork.
“If you’re closed on Mondays, what should I do with your mail?” Carter asked, frowning. “Maybe you should come over to visit us so you can pick it up.”
The kid’s gray eyes were wide and innocent, rimmed with thick black lashes. I wondered if he was playing me, but he looked hopeful rather than devious.
Just when I opened my mouth to agree, Milo muttered, “What the hell?”
I turned to see what he was looking at. Two piles of mail were stacked on the counter, one for Milo and one for the framing place, with just a local coupon circular beside them for me. In Milo’s hand, though, was a crumpled white envelope addressed to “Peddler of Evil.”
“Oh, shit,” I whispered, then my gaze shot to Carter. “I mean, shoot.”
“You can swear in front of me, it’s okay.”
“I think that’s one for my pile,” I joked weakly.
Milo frowned at the envelope, then at me. “What? Why would you think that?”
“The phrasing. That’s the kind of stuff my parents and the people from their church used to say. Milo, it’s no big deal. I knew the shop might draw some negative attention, especially in a small town.”
“Your shop has been open for three days, Eden. Getting hate mail three days in seems like a big deal to me. Look, I’m going to open it,” he said quietly.
I sighed. “Be my guest.”
Part of me wanted to see what was inside, but the other part wanted to throw it straight into the trash. Just because I knew people might hate what I was doing didn’t make it easier to realize it was going to hit home so quickly.
The envelope contained a preachy orange flier calling for repentance, offering redemption in the eyes of God for turning away from Satan. There was no identifying information on it, though, not even the name of a church or organization. That struck me as odd, having seen my share of that kind of thing before. Usually they hoped to gain congregants seeking a second chance.
In fact, now that I thought about it, that little tract left on my windshield hadn’t had the name of a church on it, either.
Milo crumpled it into a ball and threw it in the garbage can under the counter. His lips were tight, hands clenched into fists even after the flier was out of sight.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
