Middle of February

I used the corner of my box to push open the door to Katy's old-now my new-rental home on Bayside Street. Stationed right across from the Atlantic Ocean on Maine's coast, I was moving up in the world.

Next I'd get myself one of those fancy mansions right on the beach. Or maybe a nice three-bedroom bungalow. I wasn't picky as long as there was sand, surf, and the occasional sunshine.

I made it three steps into the house before I wretched forward, my legs going out from under me as Not Brent ran at me in a full gallop.

"Freaking eh, Not Brent. Manors." He loved having a fenced-in back yard and more space inside to run. The dog seemed as excited as me to move in.

Something stirred on the other side of the room and I almost screamed when Broadrick turned around on Katy's old couch. He had on a tight gray t-shirt and jeans. Regular hot guy attire. "You really need to rename that dog if you're going to keep him."

I had to do no such thing.

"Whatever," I said rather than engage in this argument for the hundredth time.

I'd rename Not Brent when a suitable name hit me. So far, none of them proposed by Broadrick or the people in town fit. His name had to be perfect.

He wasn't a Brad, or Mason.

Not a Tom or Terry.

And don't even get me started on food-related names. Who called their dog Muffin? I'd be hungry all the time and no one should think about your dog and get hungry.

I barred Katy from giving me any alternative names after that suggestion. She was off the team. It didn't stop her from texting me a new ridiculous one every morning. Not Brent was definitely not a cookie, bagel, or coffee.

She was obviously stress eating with her new move to Pierce's mansion. Probably the personal chef.

"The other day you said it and he actually looked at you. That means he's learning his name, Vonnie. If you don't pick something soon, he'll never figure it out."

Ugh. I dropped the box in the middle of the floor, now littered with other boxes. "Who made you the dog whisperer?"

He held up his phone. "The internet."

Everyone knew you couldn't believe the crap you read online.

Not Brent ran a circle around my legs, chasing his tail. "Maybe I'll name him Nut Bread." It sounded similar.

Not Brent. Nut Bread.

It could work.

The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Yeah, he looked like a Nut Bread. Maybe those food names weren't so stupid.

I'd been basking in my genius when Broadrick's gag stopped me mid invisible back pat. He gagged louder when I looked at him.

"What?" I asked, trying to grab Nut Bread, but he darted out toward the kitchen where the door led into the backyard. The dog was smarter than people gave him credit for when it came to food and free-range running. "Nut Bread is a noble name."

Broadrick shook his head and stuck his tongue out. "It's not very manly. Call him beefcake."

What the hell was a beefcake? Nut Bread jumped on the couch, and Broadrick gave him a squeeze, lifting him into his lap.

"Dude, he's a ten-pound mutt."

Broadrick covered his ears, whispering shhh. "Don't size discriminate. Weight has nothing to do with it."

I popped out a hip. "Yesterday he ran from a blue jay."

"Blue jays are scary birds. Aren't they, buddy?" he asked Nut Bread.

It was an aggressive animal for a bird. Still, the dog let the bird chase him around the backyard as he yipped in fright like he had a bear on his ass.

I had bigger problems to deal with than my dogs' fear of things with beaks. Like why was there a big, scary, not-spy, former SEAL in my living room?

Who let him in? Or how did he already get a key? I'd just started moving my stuff in yesterday and only had one copy of the key which Katy gave me and I promptly put on my key ring. The key ring and key I used to let myself in a few moments earlier.

He wasn't supposed to be here, and if he planned to crawl in through a bathroom window or something, he needed to record it so I could watch the video.

"How did you get in?" I asked, crossing over to the couch where he hadn't made a muscle to move since I walked in.

He acted like he belonged here. Like we were sharing the space.

We were not.

"I borrowed your key last night and had Mack at the hardware store make me a copy."

Damn it, Mack. I pursed my lips. Mack wasn't just the owner of the town's only hardware. He was also the father of Ridge Jefferson, Broadrick's new boss.

Stupid small towns.

"Wait, where was I when you borrowed my key?" I hadn't seen Broadrick last night.

He laughed. "I'm kidding, Vonnie. You left the back door unlocked, and I thought I'd help you unload boxes before your shift."

I wasn't even going to touch how he knew I had a shift at the bakery later. "It doesn't look like you're moving a ton of boxes."

Broadrick put Nut Bread-I was definitely keeping the name now that I knew Broadrick didn't like it-on the couch. He wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me in tightly.

I didn't enjoy being so close to him.

I never wanted him to let me go.

The last month we hadn't had much time to talk and then when we were together it felt like we did everything but talk. Broadrick was learning the ropes at his new job, and I spent most of my time either at the bakery or working on cases in Pelican Bay. Having my name attached to solving Jalinda's murder brought in a new batch of clients, and at this rate, I'd have my PI hours completed and a real license in no time.

"I already moved my box into the bedroom closet," he said and then sealed his lips over mine.

I pulled away before I forgot to stay angry. "You can't do that. You have an apartment."

Broadrick rented one of those fancy places in a recent development between Pelican Bay and Clearwater. It had all new appliances and amenities, but was too far from the ocean for me. The only thing that could make living this close to the water better was if the waters were warm. Since we didn't have Florida sunshine to keep us in a constant state of bliss, I had to take what I could get. Katy's house was pretty near perfect.

He came close again, but I pushed him away. "I'm serious, Broadrick. You do not live here."

That stupid smirk showed up again. He wore it way too often around me. "Sure, babe."

My butt vibrated and Broadrick stepped away, letting me pull the phone from my back pocket. Katy's number and name lit up the screen.

"What's up?"

"Vonnie," she whispered. "There's been a shooting."

END OF BOOK ONE: First Murder