Page 8 of Guarded Knight

Just then, a short, curvy woman who looks a lot like Lucy Liu comes out of the shop with a sandwich board.

Book Club 5 PM. Wine in Stock. Possible Alien Abduction (if you’re lucky).

Chili peppers and open books are doodled around the border, and I’m pretty sure this book club is of the spicy variety. Right up my alley.

Cute Lucy wipes her hands on her jeans. “Hey. You here for book club?”

I stroke my chin, gazing up at the store signage. “It depends on what the perks are.”

She laughs. “Spicy books out front, toys in the back. If you get my drift.” She checks her watch. “We’re not set up yet inside, but all are welcome. Even if you haven’t read the book, the drinks are free.”

Freya scrambles out of the hammock. “Good marketing strategy. Give ‘em the first hit.”

She winks. “Keeps ‘em coming.”

“We’re the new tenants in 2B,” Freya says cheerfully.

“Ah! Nice to meet you. I’m Penelope, Pen to friends, and I run this place and the book club with Luis.”

It can’t be. Joy Hunter did text me that Gabriel’s dad joined the spicy book club back home before moving to Echo Valley. “Not Luis Mendez by any chance?”

“Is there any other? You have to come. Consider it a welcome party.”

Freya and I glance at each other, nothing but green lights in our eyes.

“Of course,” I chirp. “We can at least stop in.”

“Super. If you need anything, you know where to find me,” she says, waving us goodbye.

Freya brushes imaginary dust off her leggings. “Wow, small towns move fast. We’ve already been invited to a party.” She wraps her arm around my shoulder. “Let’s go see what home looks like.”

Her words make it sound easy. Normal. But normal isn’t something I get to take for granted anymore.

I scan the quiet street out of habit before turning toward our front door. No shadows. No wrong cars.

I thought I’d stop doing this when I left Santa Fe. That the checking, the way my eyes dart to corners and windshields, was part of that place. A habit I could leave behind. But I guess it hitched a ride.

Maybe Cameron got under my skin more than I let myself believe.

I’ve never been the nervous type, and it turns out anxiety isn’t what I thought it would look like. It’s not big and loud with a mouthful of fangs. It’s quiet, ordinary, and tucked into the corners of new beginnings.

We follow a narrow path, more like a crack between walls, to the side of the building where an old metal staircase leads up to a landing. The railing is chipped, and when we arrive at the top, I can’t help but swoon at the lavender door. Purple is my favorite color, so arriving home to a door like this has to be a good sign. A little tin plaque reads 2B, and in this setting, it feels more like a question than an address.

Freya flips up the corner of the welcome mat to find the key, trustfully left by the owner, and hands it to me with a dramatic flourish.

“After you.”

I unlock the door, bracing for dust, stale air, maybe a spider or two. But what hits me first is sunshine.

Natural light floods the apartment from a trio of arched windows facing the main street. It’s small, but not in a suffocating way. More like cozy with opinions like my Auntie Glenda. The ceilings are low and sloped, just like Xander apologized for since there isn’t much room for bookshelves, but there’s character here. Slanted walls, creaky floorboards, and a big, worn-in armchair that looks like it’s seen more books than bad decisions.

Freya steps in behind me, her smile blooming. “Oh, I love it.”

I let my purse drop onto the overstuffed sofa. “It’s… not terrible.”How will I ever leave?

The kitchen is barely more than a corner, but the backsplash is a cheerful blue tile, and someone left a bowl of fresh fruit on the counter along with cookies like an Airbnb listing.

Freya opens the fridge and lets out a low whistle. “Damn. We’ve got enough cheese to survive the apocalypse.”