I woke up, shivering, my skin covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Typically, when I dreamed of that night, it was of waking up alongside a trail in the woods, not of the events that had led up to that point.

  Was my subconscious trying to tell me something? Some important detail I might have forgotten?

  I got up and shuffled my way into the shower. The hot water helped with the chills. I sank down onto the floor and leaned my back against the tiles, taking comfort in the heat and steam. I breathed slowly, counting. Odd numbers on the inhale, even on the exhale, up to fifty. Then, I did it again and again.

  When sufficiently calm and warmed, I wrapped myself in a fluffy robe and padded out to the kitchen. I made some herbal tea, then went out on the cobblestone patio and watched the sun rise over the mountains.

  8

  I wasn’t scheduled to go into the inn until later.

  I busied myself with doing laundry, tidying up the cottage, and spending some time outside. The weather was unseasonably warm, the sky clear and the sun bright. I took a walk, raked leaves, pulled weeds from the flower beds, and brushed away cobwebs and bug carcasses from the outside porch lights.

  It was cathartic. I needed the instant gratification. I’d spent so much of the last year running, but never actually getting anywhere. That took its toll, and sometimes, I needed to stop, take a breath, and recharge.

  That was what these last six weeks had been for me. A much-needed respite.

  I would miss the little cottage when I continued on. It was cozy and secluded, and I doubted I’d find another place I’d like as much. I’d miss Shadow Ridge, too, with its beautiful scenery and laid-back simplicity. I’d miss the inn and the unique, quirky people who, despite my best efforts, had grown on me.

  That was the one downside of doing mindless tasks—I had too much time to think while doing them.

  I thought about putting Shadow Ridge in my rearview mirror, going home, and finally claiming my inheritance. I’d stay only as long as it took to get things done. I couldn’t afford to linger, not with my stalker still out there, watching and waiting for me to reappear.

  I still felt like a victim. Someone was obsessed with me, and I was no closer to figuring out who it was than I had been when I left. I knew only that whoever they were, they were a danger to me and anyone around me.

  I couldn’t do that to Angie, especially now that she seemed to be happy. I’d called her the night before, and she said she’d found someone. Hopefully, he was worthy, but the fact that she didn’t seem keen on talking about him or telling me his name was a red flag. That had suggested she didn’t think I’d approve, and she was probably right.

  Angie was my best friend, and I loved her, but when it came to men, she exhibited poor judgment, in my opinion. She would set her sights on a guy and make him the center of her world. Too much, too soon. Things would end badly, and she’d be devastated and inconsolable. Then, she’d see another guy, and the cycle would begin all over again.

  I couldn’t fault her for that. She’d had a tough life, and she wanted the happily ever after. Didn’t we all?

  A vision of chestnut hair and hazel eyes filled my mind’s eye. In leaving, was I potentially sabotaging what might be my possible HEA?

  I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. So what if simply thinking of him made my heart beat faster and awakened parts of me that had been dormant for a long time?

  My guardian angel wasn’t much help on the subject. She remained quiet and sulky and didn’t seem inclined to confirm that leaving was the best thing to do. While my head insisted that going was the right choice, my heart was quietly whispering, Why can’t we stay?

  Eventually, it was time to go to work. I cleaned up, donned my black jeans and white button-down, pulled my hair back and secured it at the nape, and made the drive into town. I’d been psyching myself up to talk to Rose, but neither she nor John were there when I arrived. In fact, no one was.

  The universe was conspiring against me—I was certain of it.

  The lot was empty, and the employee entrance at the back was locked. Mondays were typically our slowest day of the week, but they weren’t that slow.

  I walked around toward the front. Through the windows, I could see that the place was dark, except for the security lights that were always on.

  My mind immediately went to bad places. Clearly, something terrible must have happened, and I didn’t know because I kept my phones powered down. All of them. The prepaid burners I used to call Angie and occasionally the police to see if there’d been any progress on my case and the one I’d given the inn the number for. My reasons for doing this were simple. One, I didn’t want anyone tracking me or my whereabouts. And two, there was nobody I wanted to talk to. The less involved with people I was, the better it was for everyone.

  Except, possibly, in situations like this.

  I made it to the front double doors and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sign.

  Closed for staff party.

  I’d forgotten all about that, probably because I’d had no intention of going. I had a natural aversion to parties, particularly after what had happened the last time I attended one. And Halloween-themed parties? Forget it.

  Of course, no one at the inn knew that. Nor would they.

  I was walking back to my car when someone stepped out from the shadows. I had my finger on the trigger of the pepper spray, ready to let loose, when I realized who it was.

  “Michelle! You startled me! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Shouldn’t you be at the party?”

  “Yes, and so should you. Rose didn’t think you’d show, so she sent Max and me to your place, but we passed you on the way and followed you back here.” She scanned my outfit and grinned. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

  “I did,” I admitted. I didn’t tell her that had I remembered, I would have made myself scarce.

  “No worries. We can head over now.”

  I shook my head and looked down at my clothes. “Like this? I don’t think so.”

  “Fine. We’ll go to your place first so you can change.”

  “How about I meet you there?” I tried.

  “No can do. Max dropped me off and took the car. The only way I’m getting there is if you take me.”

  Gah. I sensed collusion. Again.

  “Fine. I’ll drop you off, then go change.”

  “You know Rose will just send Big Lou out for you then, right?”

  Yes, she probably would. I envisioned hiding my car in the woods behind the manor house and spending the night in the trees until Lou and whoever else Rose dispatched gave up and went away. I’d mentioned that I got my back up when I felt pressured, hadn’t I?

  “Why?” I said, my tone carrying more bite than usual. “Why can’t she—and everyone else around here for that matter—take no for an answer?”

  Michelle’s eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Why can’t you loosen up and at least try to have a good time?”

  “Because I already know I won’t,” I said, mimicking her stance.

  “What’s the matter? Aren’t we good enough for you?”

  That gave me pause. “What? No, of course you are. Why would you think that?”

  “Because you go out of your way to avoid everyone. Every time we try to include you in something, you balk and find some excuse. I thought you were just shy at first, but that’s not it, is it?”

  Shit. There was no graceful way out of this. “I’m just a private person, okay?”

  Michelle snorted. “You mean, a solitudinarian.”

  “Solitudinarian?”

  She shrugged. “My English teacher is big on making us learn a new word every day.”

  Sometimes, I forgot that Michelle was still in high school. Not only was she a hard worker, but she also managed to keep her grades up and have an active, healthy social life too. She was more mature than some of the adults I knew.

  “Please, Casey?” Michelle pleaded. “Come, even if it’s only for a little while. If you’re not having a good time, you can leave, but at least make an effort. It would mean a lot to everyone.”

  What could I say to that without sounding like a complete and total bitch?

  “Fine,” I grumbled, walking to my car. “Get in.”

  9

  According to Michelle, Ziegler Farms consisted of about five hundred acres of prime agricultural land, nestled among gently rolling hills, striped in wide swaths of green and brown. Most of it was actively farmed, but not all. Some was left as forested land, other parcels for open space.

  The Zieglers had their own store, where they sold farm-fresh produce and products as well as homemade baked goods and unique items made by local craftsmen. The place was popular with locals and tourists alike, Michelle told me. That was something I’d already known, as I’d stopped several times over the course of the last month.

  What could I say? I had a weakness for whoopie pies.

  After turning off the main road, we made our way down the long drive, lined with stately old oaks and maples on either side, ablaze with autumn colors. Hand-painted signs held warm welcomes and promises of good family fun. Grinning scarecrows and gauzy, friendly ghosts pointed the way.

  The scenic lane opened into a large, well-lit clearing, where a handful of cars were already parked. There weren’t nearly as many as I’d expected. The lot was usually packed.

  “Zieglers is closed to the public tonight too,” Michelle explained, as if reading my thoughts.

  I recognized Max’s project car, an old Chevy Nova, as well as John’s platinum-colored Lexus SUV. Lou’s gleaming pickup truck was there too, parked next to a minivan that had seen better days. I assumed the van was Shannon’s. I scanned the few remaining vehicles out of habit, looking for out-of-state plates or rental stickers, finding none.

  We got out of the car, and I took a moment to look around. The sun hadn’t yet gone down completely, and there was enough light to see beyond the lot. It was pretty in a picture-postcard way. Grassroots Americana at its very best.

  I could live here and be happy, I thought.

  Various trails led outward, like spokes on a wagon wheel, with signs explaining where they went. The path straight ahead directed people toward pick-your-own patches of pumpkins and gourds as well as orchard and cider-making tours. To the left was a massive, digitally designed corn maze. The maze was so large that each party was given a handheld GPS device, programmed with interactive clues as well as a highlighted exit path for those who wanted a quick out. To the right was an obstacle course, created almost solely of hay bales and what looked like a dirt racetrack, complete with tricycles. And, of course, there was a path leading into the woods for the haunted hayrides.

  I stifled a shudder. At one time, I would have enjoyed coming to a place like this. Now, the thought of being trapped in a maze or having things jump out at me from the dark was enough to set my heart thumping furiously and chill my blood. I could feel the panic skulking around the edges of my mind, looking for the slightest crack in my defenses.

  You can do this, Casey. Nothing is going to happen. Smile, put in an appearance, then leave quietly with no one the wiser and your dignity intact.

  As if sensing my desire to flee, Michelle looped her arm through mine and led me toward the large barn looming before us. It was painted a deep shade of red and adorned with intricate and brilliantly colored Pennsylvania Dutch hex signs. The big doors were open, and sounds of music and laughter drifted out to us.

  It looked and sounded like people were already having a good time. Still, I might have turned tail and fled had it not been for the mouthwatering aromas emanating from within. I inhaled deeply, able to discern some of my favorites. Tangy barbecue. Grilled burgers and hot dogs. Fresh apple cider. Deep-fried powdered doughnuts.

  And though I couldn’t smell them, I knew there would be whoopie pies. Lots of whoopie pies. Chocolate. Red velvet. Vanilla. Pumpkin spice.

  Yep, this was my happy place.

  I thought I’d gained five pounds just from the smells alone. For the record, I was totally okay with that.

  My stomach rumbled, reminding me that I’d had nothing to eat but cereal for over twenty-four hours. I’d planned to grab something at the inn, as usual, but clearly, that wasn’t happening. I decided I’d stay long enough to be polite, partake in some of the treats, then slip away.

  Rose beamed when Michelle marched me through the door. I was welcomed warmly. So warmly, in fact, that I felt a twinge of guilt. Had it not been for Rose’s scheming—yes, I knew Michelle’s escort services were her doing—I wouldn’t be here.

  After saying hello to everyone, I helped myself to cider and a hot dog and mentally whispered, Later, beautiful, promises to the whoopie pies.

  I hefted myself up onto a rectangle of hay that had been covered with a thick cloth. Feet dangling, I was content to sit and watch those around me until enough time passed that I could leave without being rude.

  Rose and John were the center of attention, as usual. They regaled the group with outrageous but very funny stories from their time overseas. John had been stationed in Asia, Europe, and South America while in the Navy. I’d never been out of the country, but after listening to them, I moved international travel up on my bucket list. I’d already seen a good portion of the US.

  I recognized nearly everyone there, and those I didn’t, I was able to guess at. The long-haired guy with piercings hanging close to Michelle had to be her boyfriend, Jason. The beefy, bearded guy wearing a Peterbilt cap and laughing with CJ was Shannon’s husband, Mike.

  “I see Rose’s plan worked.” Shannon smirked, coming up beside me.

  “It did,” I agreed.

  “Don’t even try to sneak out of here early,” she warned. “Rose told us to keep an eye on you.”

  Well, there went that idea. I was going to have to get extra crafty.

  “Who is the tall, stunning Cher look-alike with Lou?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “That’s his wife, Kim.”

  My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding! I didn’t know he was married.”

  Shannon laughed. “Oh, yeah. They’ve been married for ten years at least. Their relationship is, shall we say, unique.”

  Before I could ask what she meant, she said, “Uh-oh, it looks like Mike and CJ are plotting something. I’d better get over there and put a stop to it. Remember what I said.” She put two fingers up to her eyes, then turned them around to face me in an I’m watching you gesture before moving away.

  I went back to people-watching. I didn’t need a name to know the guy next to Max was a Ziegler. I hadn’t seen him before, but he had the same chestnut hair and hazel eyes as his brothers and was just as attractive. I’d learned there were five sons, ranging in age from seventeen to thirty. I guessed I was looking at the youngest.

  I wondered if the others would show. Or rather, if one Ziegler brother in particular would be here.

  As always, my pulse sped up at the thought of Steve. I knew he wasn’t here yet—I’d been discreetly scanning from the moment I arrived. Was he staying away because he knew I might be here?

  I ignored the pang of disappointment and told myself it was for the best.

  I told myself that it didn’t matter, because I hadn’t changed into my best ass-hugging jeans on the off chance that I might see him. Nor had I selected the hooded, dark lilac three-quarter-length-sleeved top that people said brought out the violet in my blue-violet eyes because of him. And I definitely hadn’t taken an extra minute to release my dark hair from its working ponytail and spritz it with curl-enhancing gel.

  I’d done those things purely for me, because doing them with him in mind would have been wrong. It would have sent mixed signals and contradicted my don’t want to start something I can’t finish philosophy.

  “Looking mighty fine there, darlin’,” Lou said, ambling up to me.

  “Why, thank you, Lou. You clean up pretty good yourself,” I replied honestly.

  Like me, Lou had chosen to wear his hair free. It was as long as mine, if not longer, and thick. With his black T-shirt and plaid flannel, he reminded me of a hillbilly version of Jason Momoa.

  “Kinda makes you want some, doesn’t it?” he said with a wink.

  “And … you ruined it,” I said lightly. “What does your wife think of your shameless flirting?”

  His eyes glittered wickedly. “We have what you’d call an open relationship.”

  “Oh. Ohhh,” I said, drawing the word out as realization dawned. I now understood what Shannon had meant when she called Lou’s marriage unique.

  “But just so you know, she thinks you’re cute too.”

  I was pretty sure Lou was implying that his wife would be down with a three-way, and I didn’t know how to respond to that.

  I went with, “Thanks, I think, but no thanks. I’m flattered though. Really.”

  He laughed at my obvious discomfort and looked over my shoulder. “I’m telling you, man, it’s like I have a get out of jail free card and I can’t get arrested.”

  I turned around and looked into beautiful hazel eyes, and my heart rate went from normal human to racehorse between one blink and the next. In the lights of the barn, they looked more green than brown tonight.

  “Hi,” he said in that soft, quiet way he had. It calmed and excited me at the same time.

  “Hi,” I echoed.

  He looked amazing. The dark brown thermal he wore clung to sculpted pecs beneath the open red-and-brown flannel, and as usual, he had the sleeves pushed back to his elbows, treating me to another free peep show of arm porn.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said, his mouth curling into that crooked grin. “They were taking bets on whether or not you’d show, you know.”

  “I didn’t, but I can’t say I’m surprised. Which way were you leaning?”

 

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