Redemption Road (A Small Town Mystery Romance) by Amanda McKinney

Author:Amanda McKinney [McKinney, Amanda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735868134
Publisher: HH Tisevich
Published: 2021-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

28

After a busy morning the next day, I glanced at the clock as I sped up my driveway—12:07 p.m.

Most days, I ate lunch at my desk in the shop. But that day, I wanted to check on Cricket.

I parked in my usual spot, jumped out, and jogged up the steps. The sun was searing, rays of fire shooting through the pergola. I decided I’d turn on the window unit air conditioner for the old guy.

I slid my key into the lock—but the key didn’t fit.

Frowning, I took a step back, eyeing the brand-new lock and doorknob that had been installed on my front door. The knob was a long, ornate handle in beautiful brushed bronze. A teardrop flap covered the keyhole. It had an elegant antique look that matched the weathered wood of my door.

Christian.

The lock had been installed flawlessly, no scratches or marks on the wood. I noticed that a few nicks at the bottom of the door had also been touched up.

Grinning, I looked over my shoulder, waiting for him to jump out from behind the bushes. Not that being playful was his thing.

No luck. But I knew it was him.

You need to get new locks. His comment from earlier echoed in my mind.

I refocused on the lock, realizing that I didn’t have a key. Frowning, I searched the windowsill, the top of the door frame, the potted plants, and finally under the welcome mat, where a single bronze key lay in the center.

The door creaked as I pushed it open.

“Cricket?”

Nothing.

“Cricket?”

When I heard a faint shuffle, I dropped my purse in its usual spot on the floor and padded across the room. Cricket lay in a brand-new doggie bed, his tail thumping against the wood floor, a massive bone between his teeth.

“Had a little visitor today, huh?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Brought you goodies?” I ruffed his ears. “Some guard dog you are.”

Cricket pawed the bone, gnawing at the top, which was almost disintegrated at this point. Slobber covered his jaw and paws. He was the happiest and most lighthearted I’d ever seen him.

“I came by to check on you.” I carefully lifted his face, peering into his eyes. Sure enough, they were milky and spotted, just like Christian had said. I took a deep breath. “We’ll get you checked out, buddy, no big deal. Just enjoy that nasty bone for now.”

I kissed his nose, then made my way to the kitchen and yanked open the fridge.

I gasped.

My once barren fridge was now packed with fresh fruit, vegetables, lunch meat, cheeses, eggs, olives, milk, and a large jug that appeared to be filled with freshly squeezed orange juice. Tucked in the back was a stack of individually wrapped red meat—T-bones, of course—to grill on my George Foreman. Atop my fridge were four bottles of fancy French wine adorned with gold twine.

Christian. He’d replaced everything he’d eaten and drunk while crashing at my house.

“Cricket.” I poked my head into the living room. “Did you see this? Did he bring all this?”

My dog gave me a thump of his tail before refocusing on his bone.

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