“I’m good at it,” he admitted. “It’s part of my job.”
She flashed back to all the times her stepdad had lied to her mother. Often. “When were you going to tell me?” Their wedding was only weeks away.
“I don’t know. I was waiting for the right time.”
Her body jolted. “Like after we got married?”
“No, I would’ve told you before.” He didn’t sound sure.
She took that final step away. “We’re done, Rory. You need to leave.”
As usual, he didn’t pause; instead, he went right into solving the problem. She had noticed that throughout their relationship. If there was an issue, Rory immediately figured out how to solve it—and he usually did. No hemming or hawing…just fixing.
“Listen, I understand you’re angry, and you have every right to be. You need some time to digest this. I tell you what... I’ll give you till Christmastime, maybe New Year’s Eve, which we both know is your favorite time of year, and then we’ll get re-engaged. We’ll just move the wedding to the spring.”
“Excuse me?” She bowed up. “I am not giving you any more of my attention in this lifetime.”
He was so handsome it hurt to look at him. Then he opened his damn mouth again. “Yes, you are, sweetheart,” he said. “Come on. We’re meant to be together.”
“Get out, Rory. You ghosted me, and now you need to stay gone.” She yanked off the ring, the one she loved, and threw it at his face. The diamond hit beneath his eye, and a drop of blood slid down his angled cheek. With that, she slammed the door in his face. She had to get out of the dress before she burst into tears. Then she could cry.
Because it was definitely over.
Chapter1
As red daisies went, the flower was a little wilted.
Frozen, shrunken, and stuck to Serenity’s windshield, the perennial had already lost several narrow petals. Besides being a sad bloom out of season, it was the final fucking straw.
She yanked bloom free, tearing the frozen green stem from beneath her windshield wiper. Enough was enough.
The late-December wind slithered through her thick jacket, freezing her neck, but she didn’t feel the cold. Instead, heat suffused her, filling her with a boiling temper she rarely let loose. Turning, she stomped across the icy sidewalk to the long, metal building that had served as the lone hardware store in Silverville for nearly a century. Her boots had traction and were the best they stocked, so she barely slid across the smooth ice. Even through her anger, she made a mental note to scatter both gravel and ice remover before the temperature dropped again.
“Hey, boss.” Earl MacIntosh finished organizing the new red shovels by the front door, artfully arranging them around the remaining Christmas decorations, now discounted to fifty percent off. He’d worked at the business for nearly seventy years, starting as a cleanup kid after school. His shoulders stooped from age, but since he’d started at around six-foot-eight, he was still taller than anybody she knew. “How was lunch?”
She’d walked to the diner to meet a friend, not thinking her mysterious stalker would blatantly leave another flower on her car in the middle of the day. “Delicious. I ordered the smash burger.”
“You look angry.”
Darn it. She’d been trying to hide her ire. Figured. Even though she’d inherited her dark hair from her Grandpa Fiazzi, her skin was all Irish from her mom’s side. So, when she blushed, she freakingblushed. “I found another flower just a minute ago.”
Earl leaned on the handle of a shovel, his bushy, dark gray eyebrows rising. “I thought the first few were kinda romantic. But when does romantic extend to creepy?”
“Around flower number six, and this is number thirteen,” she said, automatically glancing around to ensure everything was in place. Christmas music still droned from the invisible speakers, and she made a mental note to update the streaming channel. “Oh, good. The new snowblowers made it. Finally.” The supply chain problem was killing her, and they were having a heck of a winter. Shovels and snowblowers had been tough to come by. Now, she was stocked. Finally.
Earl’s faded brown eyes narrowed. “Do I need to kick some butt?” Even at his age, his shoulders were broad, and his arms toned. He had the body of a farmer, and there was no doubt he could inflict damage if necessary. Even if he weren’t such an impressive force, she would’ve taken him seriously. He deserved respect.
“I don’t think so. Yet,” she murmured, twirling the damaged flower in her fingers. “Even if I needed help, I’m not entirely sure whose butt you’d need to kick.”
He scratched his gnarled, gray-stubbled chin. “You don’t think it’s Rory?”
Rory wasn’t exactly a romantic, and she couldn’t see him leaving a flower on her windshield every day. Even so, theyhadbeen engaged, and she’d ended things. “I’m not sure. It’s not like I knew the guy very well.” Or at all. They’d fallen in love, had planned a life together, and then it had turned out she hadn’t known a thing about his real life. Well, nothing she couldn’t see here in the small town of Silverville. Even now, despite them breaking up months ago, just the sound of his name cut deep into her heart.
She was dumber than her neighbor’s Belgian Blue cow. That beast had run headfirst into a wooden fence so many times they’d finally moved her to a pasture that fronted a forested mountain. It was a good thing BlueBrat didn’t like to climb things.
Earl gingerly set the shovel back in line. “I could have a talk with him if you’d like.”
“No,” she said. “If anybody needs to speak with Rory, it’s me.”
