Synopsis
Jenna McGovern is back... under the Hollywood lights. The newest resident of Blueberry Lake is finding it hard to escape her past as it follows her home. When a movie production begins filming on Main Street, Jenna is more than a little disgruntled to find her ex-boyfriend is the producer behind it. But she’s even more disgruntled to find he’s the primary suspect in an attempted murder case.
Jenna’s got a host of other problems to worry about, like making her first trip to the Mall of America and getting her grandmother’s derelict greenhouse up and running, but when her ex-boyfriend begs her for help, she can’t seem to stay away from the case. After all, there’s a murderer running loose in Blueberry Lake, and if Jenna doesn’t call cut fast enough, she could be next.
Chapter 1
“What are you wearing?”
“I thought that would be obvious,” I said, sliding under Matt’s arm as I eased into his house. I gave a sniff. “Do I smell coffee?”
Matt didn’t bother answering, which was in line with our usual song and dance. See, I’ve been sneaking over to Matt’s house for months now to steal his coffee. While I’m happy to announce that I have, in fact, mastered the art of brewing my own cup of joe in my Gran’s old coffeepot, I must admit that it’s much more fun to pretend I’m still incapable of caffeinating myself in order to continue my morning conversations with my next door neighbor.
Not only because my coffee tastes like compost, but because my house is a little too quiet when I’m home alone. And, while I’m not willing to dive into a relationship with my neighbor, I don’t mind the good conversation. Or the good company. Or the fact that he is pretty easy on the eyes.
I felt Matt’s gaze follow me as I kicked off a pair of fuzzy flip-flops on his entry rug and delicately placed them to the side. I’d found these bad boys at an online sale last month for a major steal. They’d still cost me one hundred and four dollars and ninety-nine cents. My mother had reminded me that I could buy groceries for a week with that. But as I’d reminded my mother, they were over three hundred dollars new. Like I said, a steal.
As I meandered toward the kitchen, I quickly realized that Matt wasn’t following me. He stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes were glued on my shoes. “What are those?”
“Shoes,” I said. “Or, more accurately, flip-flops.”
“They look a bit like...”
“Yes?” I asked pointedly.
“Sort of like you’re wearing rabbits on your feet,” Matt suggested, adding a kind smile to soften the blow. “Pink rabbits.”
“I’ll have you know, it’s very difficult to find flip-flops this fluffy. These are a once-in-a-lifetime sort of find.”
“Yes,” Matt murmured, biting his lip. “I believe it.”
“We’ll agree to disagree about the rarity of these sandals,” I said, tilting my nose up graciously. “About this coffee...”
“Sure,” Matt said, though he sounded anything but sure.
I finished the trek into Matt’s kitchen and helped myself to a mug that read Blueberry Lake Fire Department on one side. I poured myself a cup up to the very tip-top, then grabbed another mug that said Guns vs Hoses Champion 2016 across the front. I filled it, slid it across the counter into Matt’s waiting hand. Only after I situated myself on a stool and reached for one of the piping-hot scones from the waiting tray did I hesitate.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m serving myself in your kitchen,” I said. “For that matter, I hope you don’t mind I’m serving you in your kitchen.”
Matt grinned. “I knew what I was getting into the first time I made you coffee.”
“I’m going to owe you a lot of coffees,” I mused. “I can’t exactly write this off as you being nice to your new neighbor anymore. Maybe I should just start buying you beans.”
“I think we’re past keeping score.”
I looked down at my coffee and tugged my mug closer to me. He had a point. Despite my relatively short time living in Blueberry Lake, Matt and I had grown quite close. Partly because of the circumstances that had forced us to work together and partly because we just clicked.
When I’d been accused of murder my first week here, Matt had stood by my side for no apparent reason. Therefore, when he was framed for his ex-girlfriend’s murder, I’d returned the favor and helped clear his name. Hopefully we could focus on the friendship part of our relationship from here on out, instead of the fighting-murder-charges-for-one-another part of our relationship.
Matt cleared his throat. “You never did say what it is you’re wearing.”
“This?” I gestured to the bikini I wore. Well, technically I wore a cute knit cover-up that had a bikini beneath it. But seeing as there were lots of holes in it, I could see how poor Matt was a bit confused. Men just didn’t understand fashion. “It’s summer. I’m dressing accordingly.”
Matt just stared at me. “And?”
“This is what I wear in summer.”
“You’re aware that it is sixty-two degrees out and cloudy, right? I know that here in Minnesota we tend to be optimistic, but it’s not exactly pool weather.”
“I’m thinking uber-optimistically. I figure if I dress the part, eventually the stupid weather will catch up.”
“What are your plans for the day?” Matt asked. “Dressed like that, I mean?”
“I hear the local pool is open,” I said. “Maybe I’ll go lie out, read a book. Try to hoard some of those rays and get a tan.”
“Did you hear me say that it was sixty-two and cloudy?”
“Like I said, I’m thinking optimistically. Plus, I plan on bringing a thermos of hot chocolate and a very good book. And by book, I mean a very good edition of Cosmo. Anyway, I only have a few hours before I have to get to the shop for a shift.”
“Look, I’m not complaining about your outfit.” Matt raised his hands in surrender. “You look great in a bathing suit. I was just curious.”
There was an awkward silence in which I gulped far too much hot coffee and was forced to spit it back into the mug. Matt handed me a paper towel. I dabbed at my lips, trying to maintain what little dignity I had left.
Thankfully, my phone rang, and I was saved by the bell from responding. I looked down, surprised to see a Los Angeles area code, and I answered the call with a note of curiosity in my greeting.
“Are you ready?” A light, bouncy, valley-girl type of voice bounded across the line. “It’s been forever, hasn’t it, Jenna? How are you, girl? I can’t wait to see you.”
“Cassidy?”
“Duh! Who else?”
I had a lot of responses for that. My mother. Allie. My cousin, May. Cooper Dear. Matt Bridges. None of them involved Cassidy’s name. The last time I’d heard from Cassidy Blake had been on a job out in Los Angeles.
“I’m great,” I said. Then I added, “You do know that I don’t live in Los Angeles anymore, right?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling,” she said. “Are you interested in coming back?”