Page 1 of The Sole Suspect

CHAPTER ONE

Iflipped the “CLOSED” sign to “OPEN” and stepped back to survey my domain. The shop looked exactly as it had for decades, shelves lined with an eclectic mix of vintage and modern footwear, the worn wooden counter gleaming with years of care. Sunlight streamed through the newly replaced front window, its pristine surface erasing all visible traces of that fateful night two months ago.

Yet something felt different. Maybe it was me who had changed.

The memory of the brick crashing through my window, the terrifying message it carried, was fresh in my mind’s eye. The recollection of that incident still made me shudder. But it wasn’t just the threat that haunted me.

No, what truly kept me awake at night was the memory of what happened right before that brick came flying through my window. The heat of Dominic’s skin against mine, his scent—crisp pine and spicy cinnamon—enveloping me as we...

I shook my head, willing the thoughts away. It had been a mistake, a moment of weakness. Dominic Steele was the enemy,a corporate shark who’d lied to me, who represented everything that threatened my beloved Historical District. The fact that he’d been the one to take my virginity, to make me feel things I’d never experienced before, didn’t change who he was.

Outside, Millcrest’s Historical District buzzed with pre-election energy. Colorful campaign posters adorned shop windows, their cheerful faces a stark contrast to the tension simmering beneath the surface. The upcoming special mayoral election had split the community, with longtime residents and newcomers at odds over the future of our town.

Adelaide Fairfax’s silver-haired profile beamed from posters promising “Preservation with Purpose,” her vintage cat-eye glasses and collection of signature brooches a comforting familiarity. Opposite her, Blake Harrington’s polished smile and baby-blue eyes promised “Progress for Prosperity”—though something in that practiced grin set my teeth on edge. His tailored suits and corporate success story might have charmed newcomers and longtime locals alike, but I now knew better than to trust a shark in designer shoes.

The bell above the door chimed, jolting me from my thoughts. Penny burst in, his pink hair styled in a fluffy quiff. As usual, he was a tornado of energy.

“Leo! Have you seen the latest polls?” he exclaimed, practically vibrating with enthusiasm. “It’s neck and neck between Adelaide and that dreamboat Blake!”

I couldn’t help but smile at my friend’s exuberance. “Morning to you too, Penny. I take it you’ve already had your morning coffee?”

Penny waved off my comment, his eyes sparkling. “Who needs caffeine when we’ve got the most exciting election in Millcrest history happening right under our noses? Come on, even you have to admit this is thrilling!”

I leaned against the counter, raising an eyebrow. “Thrilling might be a bit strong. Interesting, maybe.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket,” Penny chided, perching himself on the edge of my workbench. “This election could change everything for Millcrest. Just think about it—Adelaide Fairfax with her decades of experience versus Blake Harrington, the charming CEO who could become our youngest mayor ever. It’s like a political soap opera!”

I felt a twinge of unease at Penny’s words. “Change isn’t always a good thing. Adelaide knows this town, knows what we need. Harrington... well, he’s an unknown quantity, isn’t he?”

Penny’s expression softened. “Is this about the Historical District? You know both candidates have promised to protect our heritage.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Promises are easy to make during a campaign. It’s keeping them that’s the hard part.”

Penny gave a small, understanding smile. “I should head back to Vintage Vogue. Got a shipment of ‘50s cocktail dresses coming in today.”

“Thanks for stopping by,” I said, grateful for his friendship. He helped keep my mind off of Dominic by just being… well, Penny.

“Anytime. We’ll talk later, yeah?” He squeezed my shoulder as he passed, the scent of cotton candy and citrus lingering in his wake.

A comfortable silence fell over the shop, broken only by the distant sound of traffic and the gentle creak of the old floorboards beneath my feet. I couldn’t help but think of Dominic, of his absence these past two months. Had he left town for good? Was he still working behind the scenes for his company, plotting ways to “revitalize” our district?

Questions swirled through my mind, each more painful than the last. Had he forgotten me so quickly, cast aside like a broken shoe that couldn’t be fixed? Had another omega caught his eye, someone more polished and sophisticated than a simple cobbler?

My face burned at the memory of that night in my kitchen—perhaps my inexperience had disappointed him. The way I’d melted at his touch, gasped at every kiss... I’d probably seemed desperate, too eager.

My fingers traced idle patterns on the worn counter as these thoughts pecked at me like hungry birds. I glanced at the antique clock on the wall, its brass hands ticking steadily. The bell chimed again, saving me from my spiraling thoughts. An elderly woman hobbled in, clutching a pair of well-worn loafers.

“Mrs. Simmons,” I greeted her with a warm smile. “What can I do for you today?”

She held out the shoes, a sheepish expression on her weathered face. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit hard on these old things, Leo. Do you think you could work your magic?”

I took the loafers, examining them closely. The soles were worn thin, and one of the heels had come loose. Nothing I couldn’t fix. “Of course. I’ll have them good as new by tomorrow afternoon.”

Happiness smoothed her wrinkles as her lips curved upward. “Oh, thank you, dear. These shoes and I have been through a lot together. I’d hate to part with them now.”

I watched Mrs. Simmons shuffle out of the shop, her weathered hands clutching her purse. The bell above the door tinkled softly as it closed behind her, leaving me alone with my contemplations once more.

I began working on Mrs. Simmons’ shoes, my hands moving with practiced ease. I found myself thinking about Millcrest, about the changes looming on the horizon. If Millcrest were to undergo “revitalization,” how long before quaint little shops like mine were replaced by sleek boutiques?