Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

I stared at my computer screen in complete and total shock, refreshing the screen twice. The information stayed exactly the same.

"Why do you look like you just won the lottery?" Joanne, my best friend and new employee, sat across from me with her feet propped up on her desk.

I was so shocked I didn't even care. "Because I kind of did. Someone rented out Golden Hour Lodge for the whole freaking summer!" It was an odd rental. One I almost didn't even make available.

For reasons.

But now? I was really, really glad I did.

Joanne whipped those offending feet off the desk and leaned closer. "What do you mean? Like, the whole summer?"

"May to October."

Her jaw fell open too. "Holy shit, Mack! Seriously?"

Most of our guests stayed a week. Sometimes two. Occasionally we had month-long guests. Once, someone stayed nearly two months.

Never this.

"Maybe it's a celebrity! Check the name!" She waved her hands through the air like it might make me move faster. But I was stuck staring at the grand total, all paid in full.

"Mackenzie!"

I jolted, then pulled up the details of the reservation. "I don’t recognize the name."

“Then maybe it's one of the finance bros or tech bros who come out here thinking if they just work from the mountains for a little while it will cure their chronic burnout."

We definitely got those. High-strung guests who had a very strict idea of what relaxing looked like and couldn't handle being without the constant input of their high stress jobs. They lasted a week. Tops.

"Maybe. Whoever this is seems pretty committed. It's all paid for." You didn't drop that kind of cash if you weren't planning on staying the whole summer.

Speaking of cash, I opened our accounting software so I could see the updated projections for the summer and almost wept.

I did it. I freaking did it!

This whole winter I dedicated myself to making our summer season successful. Work was my sole focus. I ate, slept, and breathed Lost Creek Mountain Cabins. I built a new website, pushed social media harder than ever, and updated the interior of the cabins to appeal to a younger demographic.

Because in my mind, if I booked out our cabins for the summer, it would make my dad proud and take some of this grief away.

“You did good, Mack.” Joanne had come to stand behind me while I was staring at the screen. She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “But show me that name. I’m going to search them up.”

Joanne and I had been best friends since before we could remember. Our mothers had also been best friends. And their mothers, and their mothers...or so the story goes.

So when I moved back home to Lost Creek, North Carolina to take over my dad's business, it was only logical that when I needed help, I hired my favorite person.

But every once in a while I wondered if we were too close to work together.

"We’ll find out who they are soon enough. Your curiosity can’t wait that long?"

She rolled her eyes before prancing back to her desk. "Nope. I'll be internet sleuthing until then!"

"Please tell me you'll only be sleuthing on your time, not mine." We had maintenance to schedule, staffing to complete, and inventory to stock up on.

All of which fell into Joanne's half of the workload.

My half was marketing, accounting, and coordinating experiences for our guests.

"As long as I get my work done it shouldn't matter what hour of the day I'm searching for Aurora Tranquill!"

I stuck out my tongue and went back to work. With this new reservation we were completely booked for April and May, with June and July looking great as well. We’d hit my goal before the rafters, hikers, and other tourists arrived with the warmer weather.

I was so happy. I was also exhausted. All I wanted to do was go home, curl up in my bed, and sleep for a week. But that would also mean driving back into town and facing the fact that I couldn’t hide behind work any longer.

A paper ball hit the side of my head.

"Seriously?" I picked it up and returned it to sender.

"I'm really glad you moved back. I missed you."

I should have moved home so much sooner than I did. It would always be one of my regrets, no matter how many times Dad told me he wouldn't change one thing.

"I missed you too, you nerd."

She cracked a half smile. "So here's the thing. Ever since you moved home you've buried yourself in work."

"It's called grief." I accepted the fact that both my parents were gone now, but it didn't make it make sense. I still reached for the phone every day to check in with Dad. Sometimes I called his phone and left a message he'd never hear.

One day I would quit paying a pointless phone bill, but for now it was an expense I was more than happy to keep.

"And you never come to girls’ night. It's just the girls!"

Shit. This was an intervention, Joanne style. "I don't like going out on cold nights." Which was technically true. But she was also right. I was avoiding everyone.

And I wasn't entirely sure why. All I knew was that it started my very first day back in town. I stopped to grab Dad a pack of crackers. Our tiny store didn't carry much and it was crammed with a group of whitewater rafters buying beer. They were loud and large. Christine tried to get them to pay as fast as she could, but they were oblivious to the fact that I was there. The only other customer was Scott Hamilton. Two years older than me and from a family that had been here since the beginning of Lost Creek, he was on the soap aisle glaring at the tourists. His gaze flicked over me. No recognition. No camaraderie. It was like I was a tourist too.

I was sick to my stomach at the thought Scott didn't remember me. Sure there were two years between us, but this was Lost Creek. Population four hundred. We grew up together.

If he didn't recognize me then who else had forgotten? How many of my old neighbors resented me for leaving? I knew some of them did. When I came home on vacation I got the cold shoulder and weird looks. They didn't understand my need to see the world. I hoped that moving home permanently would change that, but on day one—no, minute one—my hopes were dashed.

And I took it harder than I should have because less than a month later my dad was gone and it was a lot easier to keep to myself than witness the disappointment of my town.

"So don't hate me," Joanne drawled just as a car pulled into our parking lot.

I recognized it immediately.

"Why am I hating you?" I reached for my purse, knowing fighting this would be futile.

"Because you're going to book club!"

I'd been avoiding my aunt Sharon's book club all winter long. Mostly because of the aforementioned fear of being shunned, but also because they only read murder books.

This month's selection had a serial killer, their favorite, as one of the main characters. I read it because Aunt Sharon basically bullied me into it. I loved books, but I was going to have to draw a hard line at serial killers. Thanks to her I was now scared of my own shadow.

"I don't want to go to book club."

Joanne shrank down in her chair. "She made me, Mackenzie. You know how she is!"

I did. I couldn't blame her, not that it would stop me from getting payback.

The door opened and my aunt Sharon breezed in. Her silver bob swayed as she shut the door behind her. She looked exactly the same as she had my whole life. The only difference was her hair color and the lines that appeared on her face when she spoke. Other than that she had the same haircut, the same style, and the same simple makeup. She had her book club bag tucked tightly under her arm. It bore the strange logo with the TBCIMA acronym embedded inside it. This Book Club Is My Alibi. It felt like a warning more than a name.

"Are you ready?" she beamed, clearly proud of herself for pulling this off.

I crossed my arms over my chest. "Why should I give in to this blatant manipulation?"

"Because you love me and know I only have your best interest at heart, dear." She placed her hand over her chest.

"I have work to do."

"And you also need a lunch break. We eat at the end of book club. So it's all perfect. Let's go!"

I wanted to fight. To kick my feet. To keep hiding behind my work. But maybe this bizarre reservation was a sign. It was time to rip the bandage off, face my fears, try to find my new place in my community. Book club was as friendly a place to start as possible. "Fine, but I'm driving."

"Of course you are." She patted her bag.

"You're good?" I asked Joanne.

"Right as rain. Bring me back the mac and cheese bites!"

I would not bring this traitor anything. I marched out the door and into my car, ignoring Aunt Sharon's chatter the whole way to town.

Our office was located on one of our rental properties and served as a central hub for guest check-ins. We were right on the tiny two-lane road that led back to Lost Creek.

Lost Creek was a tiny town with a handful of buildings nestled between the road and the mountains. Still Standing Saloon stood at the end, slightly angled in towards the rest of the buildings.

Still Standing was a Lost Creek institution. It had existed for as long as the town had. And the Hamilton family had always owned and operated it, passing it down from generation to generation. It was originally just called The Still since it started as a moonshine still. After a few generations they got to be pretty proud of the fact that they'd stuck it out through thick and thin and updated the name to Still Standing. Tourists sometimes took it a step farther and bragged that they were "still standing" after a few drinks.

"Why do you meet in a bar again?" Right behind us was the bookstore. I lived just above it in my adorable little apartment. It made a lot more sense for a book club to meet in a bookstore.

"Because Willow banned us from talking about murder in the mornings. Besides, the bar is empty and quiet. And Scottie makes us food."

My stomach dropped.

So, technically , there was another reason I avoided girls’ nights and book club: I didn't want to run into Scott again and suffer the embarrassment of being forgotten or, even worse, ridiculed.

"Scott will be there?" I secretly hoped someone else would be here since Scott ran the bar in the evenings.

"Only towards the end." She patted my hand. "He acts like he thinks we’re nuts, but I think he loves having us around. Why else would he volunteer to make us lunch? Come on now. Maeve is waiting."

Aunt Sharon's best friend stood by the doors holding up a set of keys. Beside her stood three other long time Lost Creek residents and two newer ones.

In a way it was kind of amazing Maeve and Aunt Sharon found five more locals who had an obsession with murder books to have a book club with.

"I'll be just a second. I want to grab my book."

Aunt Sharon glared at me. "Give me your keys."

"I'm not going to run. Scout's honor." Although the idea was more and more tempting.

She held out her hand. "Then it shouldn't be a problem to give me your keys."

"How am I going to get into my apartment without my keys?"

She frowned. "Why is your door locked?"

Seriously?

Okay, so maybe locking both my doors in a town as small as Lost Creek was overkill, but they'd just made me read a book where the serial killer legit walked through the victims' unlocked doors and killed them so... "You can have me read these books and let me lock my doors or you can ditch the serial killer novels. Your choice, Auntie."

She sighed. "Fine. But if you're not inside this bar in ten minutes I'm sending the entire town after you."

"I'm here. I've promised. I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay then. See you inside." She turned, shooing a frowning Maeve through the doors.

A weight lifted as I turned toward the Tbr Pile Bookshop. It was still cool and windy, but the temperatures were definitely shifting. The Nantahala River roared on the other side of the road while the mountains soared behind the town. It felt good to be home.

Beside Still Standing sat the offices for Outdoor Experiences of Nantahala, or ODX for short, then the Green Door Cafe, which had a green door, and then the Tbr Pile.

I was about to unlock the door that led up to my apartment when I walked right into a wall of brown flannel. Strong hands steadied me as I tried and failed to catch my keys. My skin tingled everywhere he touched, and I found his woodsy scent entirely too intoxicating.

Especially considering who all of it belonged to.

I watched as Scott Hamilton bent down to retrieve my keys, wanting the earth to swallow me whole. But when he handed them to me he didn't frown or ignore me.

Nope.

Instead he shocked the hell out of me by smiling. "Hey, Mackenzie."