Page 7 of Breaking Free

Juggling four grocery bags, a half gallon of milk, and her purse, she had to close her trunk with her elbow. Exhausted, with a lot of work still ahead, her steps dragged as she carried her haul to the front stairs. She paused at the bottom, seeing a delivery man descending with an enormous vase of yellow roses—her favorite.

Wearing a cap and a T-shirt with a logo for The Posy Shop, the older man said, “Excuse me, miss. I have a delivery for a Piper Emory in #112, but no one is answering the bell. Might I leave them with you?”

“I’m Piper.”

He grinned broadly and exclaimed, “Great timing.”

“Can you hang onto them a sec while I get my groceries inside?”

“Sure.” He shifted the vase to one arm. “I can take a few bags if you’d like.”

She liked. They were getting heavy, and she had to have a free hand to open the gate and her front door.

He waited on the landing, as she made two trips getting the bags to her kitchen counter. Then she sent him on his way with a generous tip.

His footsteps were still echoing on the concrete as she stood in her open doorway with the glass vase, trying to figure out who would send her a dozen roses. Her first thought was Matt. But she hadn’t left him a forwarding address. Her second was the grouch...ahem, the “decent guy” next door, but Tristan didn’t seem like the sending-flowers type.

She put her nose to one bud, inhaled deeply, and then plucked the card from among the blooms to appease her curiosity.

It read:Welcome to our friendly community!

That’s it. No signature. Her excitement instantly dimmed.

“Flowers! Lucky girl. Who are they from?”

She looked up to see Josie walking to her door, arms laden with several colorful rolls of fabric and leather. “I wish I knew.” She glanced back at the card. “It doesn’t say. Is this a tradition for new tenants? Like a welcome wagon?”

“Not that I know of. I’d have to ask Hunter.”

“Right,” she murmured. “You’re a temporary resident, too.”

“No name on the card means you’ve got a secret admirer,” she exclaimed. “How exciting.”

“I’d rather have a name.”

“Do you think they’re from...” She paused, her gaze going to the door next to Piper’s.

“Who? The guy who was so pissed off I took his parking space that he facilitated getting me out of it as fast as possible then told me off and stormed out?”

Josie frowned. “Hunter and I were talking about that. Something must have been bothering him yesterday.”

“Yeah. Me!”

“No. Tristan can be surly, but he’s never outright rude,” she insisted. “In fact, he has always been polite to me. You could try calling the florist and see if they recall who sent yellow roses today. A tall, bald, bearded, sexy AF hunk, for instance, would be hard to forget.”

Piper sniffed, highly skeptical. “I doubt if he gave me another thought after he stalked away. Besides, who orders flowers in person these days?”

“True.” Josie shifted the load of material in her arms. “While you solve your mystery, Sherlock, I’ll be over here sewing. I should get inside. These leather cuts weigh a ton.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even offer to help.” She glanced around for a place to put down the vase.

“No problem. I’ve got it!” With a grunt and a hip bump, she swung her door inward. “Keep me posted if you identify a suspect. Later!”

PIPER EYED THE OVERFLOWINGdumpster with disgust. A horde of flies buzzed relentlessly around it, and it stank to high heaven in the sweltering July heat. Even upwind from twenty yards away, she could smell it. Her information sheet from the owner listed garbage pickup as every Friday. It was Sunday. From the mountain of bags above the rim, no way had that happened.

Holding her breath, Piper moved as quickly as possible. With both hands, she gripped one of her two bags, and, with a determined grunt, launched it toward the towering heap. Her effort fell short, however, and it teetered on the edge. Time seemed to slow as she watched it slide inch by slow inch, as if taunting her, then fall, crashing to the ground with a resounding clunk.

“Lousy sanitation department,” she muttered between short pants of air, trying hard not to breathe through her nose.

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