3
I made my usual preparations to open Hart’s Shoe Repair just as the sun started to climb above the skyline. The familiar scents of leather and polish greeted me, a welcoming balm to my frayed nerves. I’d tossed and turned all night, my dreams a confusing jumble of stolen leather and stolen kisses.
As I flipped the sign to “Open,” a flash of white caught my eye. A small envelope lay on the floor, as if it had been slipped under the door sometime during the night. My name scrawled across the front in an unfamiliar hand.
With trembling fingers, I tore it open. The message inside sent ice coursing through my veins:
I saw what you did. Your secret won’t stay hidden for long. Leave town now, or everyone will know.
The paper crumpled in my fist. The Sterling brothers.
It had to be them. Their act of generosity last night, the kisses—it was all a ploy to get me to lower my guard. And now they were trying to bully me out of town.
Fury bubbled up inside me, hot and fierce. Without a second thought, I stormed out of my shop and across the street to Sterling’s Fine Footwear. The “Closed” sign hung in the window, but I could see movement inside. I pounded on the door, heedless of the early hour.
Jack yanked the door open, his hair mussed and eyes bleary with sleep. Even in his disheveled state, he exuded a rugged allure that made my breath catch. His rumpled shirt clung to his broad chest, revealing tantalizing glimpses of tanned skin beneath. “Hart? What the hell?—”
I blinked hard, yanking my gaze away from the tempting expanse of Jack’s chest.
Elijah emerged from the back room, looking equally disheveled and alluring. “Milo?” He stifled a yawn. “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”
His questioning reminded me why I’d stormed over here at this ungodly hour, reigniting my fury. I shoved past Jack, brandishing the crumpled note. “How dare you,” I snarled. “I thought… I actually believed you wanted to help me. But this? Threatening me?”
I caught the flicker of confusion that passed between Jack and Elijah.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jack’s voice was rough with sleep, but his eyes sharpened as they fixed on me.
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?
“ We investigate,” 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 stride and 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.
“You seem to know everyone,” I observed as he waved to yet another early-rising shopkeeper.
Elijah smiled, the expression warming his eyes. “It’s important to us, being part of the community. This town has been good to us.”
I blinked in surprise. It had never occurred to me that the Sterlings might feel a connection to Millcrest beyond just running their business here.
We reached Adler’s shop just as Frank was unlocking the door. The burly alpha raised an eyebrow at our unlikely pairing but invited us in with a gruff nod.
As Elijah explained our purpose—under the guise of gathering information about the tannery situation—I found my gaze drawn to him. The morning light caught in his hair, highlighting strands of gold among the brown. When he smiled at something Frank said, a dimple appeared in his left cheek.
I shook myself, forcing my attention back to the conversation. This was no time to be admiring Elijah Sterling’s dimples.
I watched as Elijah deftly steered the conversation, his easy charm working its magic on Frank. “Say, Frank, didn’t you mention a new shipment of calfskin from that tannery up north? The one with that unique grain?”
Frank’s eyes lit up. “Indeed I did! Let me grab my ledger. I’ve got the details on that beauty right here.”
As Frank disappeared into a back room, I caught Elijah’s subtle wink. “Jack’s not the only clever bastard in our family.”
I stifled a grin, feeling heat rise to my face. His deft handling of the situation left me thoroughly impressed, despite myself. As much as I hated to admit it, they both had a way with people that I could never hope to match.
Frank reemerged from the back room, a leather-bound ledger tucked under his arm. He set it on the counter with a thump and flipped it open, the pages rustling as he searched for the right entry. Elijah leaned in, his eyes scanning the neat rows of figures and notes. I couldn’t help but crane my neck, curiosity getting the better of me as I tried to catch a glimpse of Frank’s handwriting.
“Shame about old Thompson,” Frank said as Elijah pulled a small leather-bound notebook and a stubby pencil from his jacket. He started jotting something down, his hand moving quickly across the page. “Never thought I’d see the day he’d consider closing up shop.”
“You’ve known Mr. Thompson a long time?” Elijah asked.
Frank nodded, a faraway look in his eyes. “Since we were boys. Used to see his girl at the tannery sometimes, before... well, before she left town.”
Elijah and I exchanged a quick glance. I furrowed my brow, trying to recall any mention of Mr. Thompson’s daughter. Despite growing up in Millcrest, I’d never heard a whisper about her. She must have left town long before I was born. I caught Elijah’s eye and gave a slight shake of my head.
“His daughter?” Elijah prompted casually.
“Aye, though he doesn’t speak of her now,” Frank replied. “Shame, that. She was a bright little thing.”
After bidding Adler good day, we stepped out into the crisp afternoon air. The bell above the door chimed softly behind us as I pulled my worn coat tighter, bracing against the chill that nipped at my nose and ears.
“I didn’t know Mr. Thompson had a daughter,” I said.
Elijah frowned, his brows drawing together. “From the sound of it, he’s not keen on people knowing.”
We made our way back to Sterling’s Fine Footwear, where Jack waited with sandwiches from Mabel’s bakery. As we ate, Elijah and I filled him in on our conversation with Frank.
“Frank’s handwriting doesn’t match,” Elijah said, his voice low and thoughtful.
I reached for my coffee. The porcelain was warm against my palms, grounding me as I considered our next move. One piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, but it only raised more questions.
“Mr. Adler did mention that Mr. Thompson had a daughter who vanished years ago.” I drummed my fingers on the wood table, my mind racing. “Apparently, he doesn’t even like talking about her…”
“A secret daughter, eh?” Jack mused as he leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “Sounds like it’s time we paid old Thompson a visit.”
An hour later, Jack and I stood outside Thompson’s Tannery. The acrid smell of chemicals and leather permeated the air, making my nose wrinkle.
“Ready?” Jack asked, flashing me a grin that set my heart racing.
I nodded as Jack’s hand slid under my worn coat to settle on the small of my back. He guided me into the tannery, the warmth of his touch seeping through my shirt.
Gus Thompson looked up from his work, surprise flickering across his weathered face. “Mr. Sterling, Mr. Hart. What can I do for you?”
As Jack smoothly explained our presence—something about leather quality and market trends—I let my eyes wander around the office. A framed photograph on the cluttered desk caught my attention. It showed a younger Thompson standing next to a little girl with familiar features.
I listened as Jack smoothly steered the conversation, his charm working its magic on Mr. Thompson just as his brother’s had with Mr. Adler. Before I knew it, the old tanner was pulling out his ledger, spreading it open on the desk between us. Jack’s fingers danced over the pages, pointing out figures and trends while he kept up a steady stream of industry jargon that made my head spin.
I watched in awe as Jack swiftly tallied a row of numbers in the account book. The depth of his knowledge about the leather industry and shoe business far surpassed my own, despite my years of experience. A twinge of inadequacy twisted in my gut as I realized just how much I still had to learn compared to the Sterling brothers.
“Frank Adler mentioned your daughter earlier,” Jack said, his tone casual, “I didn’t realize you had children.”
Thompson’s face hardened. “I don’t,” he said flatly. “Frank must be mistaken.”
Jack raised an eyebrow but didn’t press the issue.
While Jack wrapped up our visit with Mr. Thompson, I lingered by his desk, pretending to adjust my shoe. My eyes darted to the photograph, studying it intently. The little girl’s face tugged at my memory. Her features seemed achingly familiar.
Then it hit me—those eyes. Wide, bright, and full of promise. They were Martha Sawyer’s eyes, before life had dimmed their sparkle. The Martha I knew drifted through town like a ghost. Though demure and polite, her smile never quite reached her eyes.
This photograph of a smiling little girl felt like a relic from another time, preserving a moment of joy that had long since faded.
Leaving the office, I casually sidled up to Jack. We exchanged final pleasantries with Mr. Thompson, my voice steady despite the tension coiled in my chest.
We stepped out of the tannery. The crisp air hit my face, a welcome respite from the pungent leather and chemical odors that had clung to my nostrils inside the tannery.
Jack let out a low whistle. “Well, that was interesting. Did you see how he clammed up at the mention of his daughter?”
I nodded, my mind whirling. “That girl in the photo—she looked just like Martha.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “You think Martha Sawyer is Thompson’s daughter?”
“I do,” I said.
“But why all the secrecy, I wonder?” Jack mused.
I nodded. “Something’s definitely not right.” The image of Martha’s trembling hands as she’d handed over her shoes for repair flashed in my mind. Her darting eyes, the way she’d flinched at every noise. Come to think of it, she’d been jumpy from the moment she’d stepped into my shop up until she practically bolted out the door…
Jack and I hurried back to Sterling’s Fine Footwear, where Elijah waited. As we filled him in on our suspicions, I couldn’t help but notice small details about the brothers I’d never paid attention to before.
The way Jack’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. How Elijah absently tapped his fingers against his thigh as he listened. The differences in their scents—Jack’s spicier, Elijah’s sweeter.
I pushed the observations aside, focusing on the matter at hand.
“If Martha is Thompson’s daughter,” Jack said, “what does that mean for our investigation?”
“It means we need to talk to her,” I said firmly. “Tomorrow morning, first thing.”
Elijah nodded in agreement. “We’ll go together. Safety in numbers.”