Page 49 of Stuck with my Mechanic Daddies

Something small. Unassuming.

But so wildly out of place, I stopped mid-step.

A brass key.

Not just any key. A Page Turners key.

I knew that design—ornate edges, slightly worn, the same kind I’d found in my uncle’s basement—although I hadn't yet found what it unlocked.

My stomach clenched. What the hell was it doing here?

I reached out and picked it up, the cool metal pressing into my palm.

“Mason,” I said slowly, turning toward him.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up, still focused on the engine.

I held the key up. “Why do you have this?”

That got his attention. He straightened, wiping his hands on a rag before glancing my way. His brows pulled together.

“What is it?”

I turned it over in my fingers. “This is from Page Turners.”

Mason’s frown deepened as he stepped closer, leaning in to get a better look. “You sure?”

I shot him a look. “I’m the one who owns the place, aren’t I?”

He huffed a short laugh but took the key, rolling it between his fingers. “Huh.”

“That's all you’ve got to say?” I crossed my arms. “Why do you have a key to something in my bookstore?”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t. This isn’t mine.”

I studied his face, but he looked as genuinely confused as I felt. “Then what's it doing here?”

“No idea.”

He glanced around the shop, like the answer might be hiding somewhere in the oil-stained floor or between the toolboxes.

A prickle ran down my spine.

First, the weird discrepancies in my uncle’s paperwork, then the strange interaction with Hank Lawson, and now this?

Something wasn’t adding up.

I exhaled sharply. “You think Ethan or Owen left it here?”

Mason rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe. But why the hell would they have a key from Page Turners?”

I had no answer for that.

I swallowed, my grip tightening around the key. What the hell was going on in this place?

Before Mason could say anything else, my phone rang, the sharp buzz making me jump. I pulled it from my back pocket, wincing at the name on the screen.

Daniel Parker.

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