I was about to set the frame down when a sliver of white caught my eye.An envelope edge peeked out from behind one of the photos.
Heart thudding, I eased the frame aside and pulled the envelope free.My name was written on the front in precise, familiar script.
“Oh my god.”
Mac leaned in over my shoulder.“What is it?”
“It’s from my aunt.”
“A letter?”
My fingers shook as I slid a thumb under the flap and unfolded the neatly creased paper.My pulse roared in my ears as I read.
Piper,If you’re reading this, then I’m dead and you have inherited my entire estate.I’m sorry to call you away from your fast-paced life in the big city.But this is far more important than a fashion magazine job.
The room tilted a little.
I backed up and dropped onto the edge of the sofa, the letter crinkling in my hands.
“Piper?”Mac’s voice sounded like it was coming from down a long tunnel.
“I… I think I’d like to be alone now,” I managed.
He didn’t argue.The screen door creaked and banged shut behind him a moment later, leaving me alone with the letter and the quiet hum of the house.
I drew a breath and kept reading.
Something has gone horribly wrong.My death is not an accident, no matter what they say.I need you, my little sleuth, to find who killed me.I think I know the why of it but for reasons I can’t write down—for fear someone will read this letter before you—I can’t say.You’ll figure it out in time.Because you’re so smart.You always were my shining little ball of starlight.I’m sorry to have thrust Enchanted Blossoms on you in such a horrid manner, but I simply can’t take any chances.You’re the only one I trust.The only one who can take over where I left off.There will be more information waiting for you at the flower shop.Over time, you’ll understand more and come to accept all that I’ve given you.
My breath hitched.Murder.My aunt was talking about murder like it was a puzzle I could solve between flower deliveries and family drama.
Ink had bled faintly through the page.I flipped the letter over.
P.S.Be nice to Owen.I think he’s always liked you.
“Owen?”
The only Owen I knew was—
Realization slammed into me so hard I swayed.
That sorry—
I stared at the back of the letter.Owen.Not Mac.Owen McAllister.
I’d grown up with him.The antique store owner’s son.The golden boy of Hickory Hollow—valedictorian, scholarship magnet, the guy who’d made AP coursework look like light reading while I’d mainlined caffeine and flash cards to keep up.Everyone had assumed he’d leave town in a blaze of academic glory.
But he hadn’t.He’d stayed.I’d never understood why—and I hadn’t exactly stuck around to ask.
And now here he was, strolling back into my life with a fake name and a flirty smile.
Why?
Heat flared under my skin.I crumpled the paper in my fist and surged to my feet.The screen door did its familiar bang-bang-bang as I stormed onto the porch.
Owen—Mac, whatever he was calling himself these days—was still leaning against his truck.When I barreled out of the house, he straightened and headed towards me, that same bright smile snapping into place like a reflex.
He hadn’t left.He’d waited.
