Page 88 of Lucky Haven

“Not better enough to avoid doing crimes in the first fucking place.” Ridge takes off his hat and sets it on the table. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“We don’t need to involve you in this,” I protest. “Really. I’m so sorry⁠—”

Both brothers give me identical quelling looks.

“You’re family,” Ridge says. His words are clipped, but I believe him.

I think about Mercy, and her cut-off thoughts about how loving Ridge is a challenge. My heart hurts for her, and for him, because this is a man who clearly cares about his brothers so much it pains him. So much he’ll call me family even though we barely know each other, our paths having only briefly crossed a few times.

I wonder if that’s how he feels about Mercy, too—that it hurts to love her.

As the brothers look at the book, I sink into a chair on the other side of the table. I’m suddenly very tired. It’s been a rollercoaster of a day. Also, the last week has felt like a month, and the last month has felt like an entire year.

Whoever my stalker is, they’re paying a disturbing amount of attention to my comings and goings.

Who could have seen me come back from the garage yesterday?

I only saw library regulars.

Which means whoever is obsessed with me is someone who has been right under my nose the entire time since I returned to Dragonfly Creek.

“Cash…”

He looks up immediately. “What is it?”

“What if we look for the names of library regulars?”

He grabs me a pad of paper and I write down every name I can think of. But one by one, we rule all of them out based on the handwriting samples.

“I gotta go get this damn bull,” Ridge says. “But if you need help tomorrow, just shout.”

“Will do. Good night.”

Cash herds me downstairs to bed, but we don’t fall asleep, even though I’m yawning up a storm. I curl up in his arms and he rubs my back, trying to soothe the frustrated energy vibrating through me.

When it’s clear that I’m not going to drift off, Cash turns his lamp back on.

“Let’s review what we know so far. We can’t rule out those library patrons fully,” he says grimly. “Maybe they get someone else to write the notes for them.”

“But it all feels personal. This isn’t someone who is scheming to get something from us. They just want to hurt me with mean words—and maybe scare you off from spending time with me.”

I tilt my head to the side.

“What is it?” Cash searches my face. “Tell me.”

“I dunno. It might be a wrong direction.”

“You’re smart. I want to know everything you’re thinking. No bad ideas.”

“What if this isn’t about me at all? What if this is about you? Maybe you have a secret admirer who is mad at me for kissing you.”

He laughs. “I know you think I have a reputation as a manwhore⁠—”

“That’s not the word I would use!”

“But I don’t have any secret admirers.”

“That’s what makes it a secret, silly man. You’re hot and dangerous. I bet you have a dozen fans.”