“This afternoon when you came into the shop.” She leaned over the counter and scanned The Wandering Bloom. The lines of books that filled the back shelves, the flower section near the front, currently empty because she was getting a big delivery inthe morning. And the scattered tables, which were filled more often than they were empty.
God, she loved this place. It was her sanctuary. The business she’d built after years of hard work saving for it with no help from anyone.
“I thought you said you’d try to make it work?”
Polly’s gaze moved to the setting sun outside. “No, I definitely said I couldn’t make it.” Although she wasn’t surprised her mother hadn’t heard since she’d been distracted by her new fiancé. A fiancé who, if they got married, would be her mother’s fifth husband.Fifth. It should sound crazy, but in the world of Olivia Mack, the only crazy thing was being single.
“I was hoping you’d come over because we invited Jonah’s nephew, who I really thought you’d hit it off with.”
Polly wrinkled her nose. Another benefit of avoiding her mother’s house. “Sorry, Mom, I need to go. I’m in the middle of painting.”
“Okay, I’ll pop in tomorrow. Can you save me some?—”
“Orange tulips? You know I always do.”
“Thank you, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”
Polly hung up. She loved her mother, she really did, she just wished the woman wasn’t so reliant on having a man in her life.
Her phone vibrated with a text.
Joel: Hey, Sunshine. Just checking that you’re not doing that workaholic thing you do where you stay at work too late.
Workaholic thing? Did he mean running a successful business?
Why was he even texting her?
On paper, Joel Dawson was everything a woman should be drawn to—cute, smart, a former Navy SEAL who now worked on the town search and rescue team.
But all of that came with a side of cocky and sexist. Not to mention he called her Sunshine because he knew shewasn’tsunshiny. Well, she wasn’t sunshiny to him, at least. And he was annoying. Just the other week, he’d stolen her cinnamon roll from The Pancake Bar. Thelastcinnamon roll.
She texted back as she returned to the office.
Polly: You’re so sweet to check in on me. I’m actually…oh, wait, I don’t have to tell you because it’s none of your business.
Her lips curved, and she was so pleased with herself and her comment that she didn’t think about where she was stepping. The spilled paint had completely faded from her mind—until her foot slipped through it.
She yelped, her hip hitting the hard floorboards. Then she was on her back, lying in a puddle of ugly paint in Bloom’s office.
What had she done to deserve this? Was it because she wasn’t supportive of her mother marrying a man she’d known for three months? Or maybe because she wasn’t the nicest human to Joel?
With a groan, she rolled over, her palm hitting a squeaky floorboard near the wall. Not just squeaky—moveable.
She jiggled it and, after a bit of maneuvering, it came up.
She frowned at what she saw beneath.
A phone. It was a small, blocky phone. It was black and had a physical keypad instead of a touch screen.
She hit the power button, but of course it didn’t light up. It was completely dead. How long had it been down there? And why was it hidden under the floorboards?
A sound in the café area had her head shooting up. The front door opening? Had she locked the door? She couldn’t remember.
It didn’t matter. Everyone in town knew that Bloom closed at four. No one should be here.
Her skin prickled, unease settling in her belly. Usually, a simple opening door wouldn’t affect her. But two women hadgone missing in Deep River in the last twelve months, and a third had been found dead in the forest.
She scanned the room, spotting the broom in the corner. There wasn’t a whole lot of damage she could do with it, but if it was an intruder…hit them hard enough and maybe she could run?
