Page 8 of The Cobbler and His Elves

I thrust the note at them. “Don’t play dumb. I know you wrote this.”

The brothers exchanged a bewildered glance. Elijah took the note from me. He smoothed out the paper, his frown deepening as he read. “We didn’t write this.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “Who else would want me out of town? Who else knows about... about last night?”

Jack took the note, examining it closely. “Look at the handwriting. It’s nothing like ours.”

He disappeared into the back room, returning moments later with a leather-bound ledger. He opened it, revealing pages of neatly written entries. “See for yourself,” he said, holding the book out to me.

I glanced between the note and the ledger, my certainty wavering as my eyes darted between Jack’s precise, slanted script and Elijah’s more flowing, artistic hand. The note’s writing was nothing like theirs—a shaky, uneven scrawl that looked almost childish in comparison. It struck me as the sort of writing you’d see from someone trying to disguise their hand, like the ransom notes I’d seen in those dime store detective rags I sometimes read. The handwriting didn’t match. Not even close.

“Besides,” Jack added, a hint of his usual smirk returning, “why would we want to run you out of town? Can’t exactly kiss you anymore if you’re not here.”

“Y… you said one kiss each! That’s it!” I stammered. Heat rushed to my cheeks at the memory of those kisses. I pushed the thought aside, focusing on the matter at hand. “Besides, if you two didn’t write it, then who did?”

Elijah’s expression turned serious. “Someone who saw us last night. Someone who thinks they can use that information against you.”

“But why?” I asked, frustration coloring my voice. “I’m just a cobbler. I’m not important enough to blackmail.”

Jack’s eyes flashed with an emotion I couldn’t quite name. “You’re more important than you realize, Milo.”

An awkward silence fell over us. I shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that I’d burst into their shop before dawn, hurling accusations. “I... I’m sorry,” I mumbled. “I shouldn’t have assumed?—”

“It’s alright,” Elijah said softly. “We understand why you’d be suspicious of us.”

Jack nodded, his usual bravado softening. “We haven’t exactly given you reason to trust us.”

I looked between them, seeing them in a new light. Gone were the cocky businessmen I’d always assumed them to be. In their place stood two men who seemed genuinely concerned for my welfare.

“What do I do now?” I sighed, running a hand through my unruly red hair. My gaze drifted to the display window, where the first rays of dawn painted the shoes lined up in the window in a soft, golden light.

What now, indeed?

“Weinvestigate,” Jack said, a determined glint in his eye. “Someone in this town is trying to scare you off. We need to find out who, and why.”

Elijah nodded in agreement. “We’ll start by comparing handwriting samples. See if we can match it to anyone in town.”

“I should do that,” I protested. “This is my problem. I can’t ask you to?—“

“You’re not asking,” Jack interrupted. “We’re offering. And we’re not taking no for an answer.”

The fierce protectiveness in his voice sent a sharp pang of heat racing through my body. My inner omega preened at the thought of two strong alphas looking out for me. I squashed the feeling down, reminding myself that this was just business. They were protecting their investment in the town, nothing more.

“Fine,” I conceded. “Where do we start?”

We spent the next hour planning our investigation. By the time we finished, the sun had fully risen, painting the sky in brilliant shades of pink and gold.

“I’ll take Milo to talk to Frank Adler,” Elijah said as we prepared to leave. “Jack, you check with some of our suppliers, see if they’ve noticed anything suspicious.”

I expected Jack to protest being separated from his brother, but he simply nodded. “Meet back here for lunch? We can compare notes.”

I fell into step beside Elijah as we made our way to Adler’s Leather Goods. Trying to remain casual, I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye as we walked. His easy strideand relaxed demeanor contrasted sharply with Jack’s cavalier swagger.

How had I never noticed the differences between them before?

For the last couple of years, I’d watched the Sterling brothers strut down Main Street like they owned the place, their shiny leather shoes clicking against the cobblestones as they greeted townsfolk with practiced smiles and firm handshakes. The memory of their grand opening still burned in my mind—a lavish affair with champagne and canapés that had half the town swooning over their fancy footwear while my grandfather’s humble shop faded into the background.

I’d viewed them as bullies, out to steal my livelihood. Now, I wondered if I’d misjudged them both.