Physical Distraction: A Sinful Suspense Novel by Tess Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

purchase. His mouth was pulled tight, and he refused to look them in the eye as he grunted out the total. They were obviously two unpleasant characters, people to avoid. Like the Wolfe brothers, as Everly had warned me.
    My brief encounter with the Wolfe brothers had been unexpected and alarming, but Jem had helped me up to the road. His sharp turn of temperament, when he heard I was staying, had changed my first impression of him. Now, it seemed, I had more people to avoid. At least I’d found what seemed to be a genuine friend in Everly. And if her chicken salad was any indication of her cooking, then my move to Blackthorn Ridge was looking up.
    I reached into my backpack and pulled out a blank postcard. I’d had a stack of them printed with Aunt Carly’s address, and she’d pasted a stamp on every one so I wouldn’t have any excuse not to send one each day. The fronts of the cards were vintage pictures of Victorian women in big, frilly hats. My aunt was a hat collector, so I’d decided they were the perfect choice.
    I pulled out my pen. “Aunt Carly, I’m in Blackthorn Ridge, and I’ve already met a fantastic person. Her name is Everly and she’s a lot of fun. A good aura, as you would say. I’ll be staying with her. I’ll send you an address when I have it. Carly, I can feel it. This was the right place to start. Kiss Buckley for me and give him an extra rawhide treat from me. I’ll write again. Love, Tash.”
    The store owner’s scowl followed the two men out the door. His kind smile returned the second the door shut behind them.
    Everly was removing her apron as she walked out from the backroom. “Was it good?”
    “Magical, if that’s a possible adjective for a chicken salad sandwich.”
    “It’s all about the pickles. This lady, Bernie”—she nodded—“yes, it’s a funny name for a woman. Anyhow, she makes the best dill pickles. Homemade. They are the secret ingredient.” She hung her apron over a hook on the wall. “Are you ready to go? I’ll bet you’re tired.”
    “I am.” I held up the postcard. “Mailbox?”
    “There’s one on the way home.” She picked up my duffle. “Let’s go, roomy.”
    Her uncle waved good-bye, and we walked out. “He’s wonderful, Everly.”
    “Yeah, I’m lucky I have him. Especially with my mom always on the mend and all. Sure wish the doctors could figure out why he’s shaking all the time. One actually had the nerve to tell him it was all in his head.”
    “That’s too bad. I noticed it right away.” We hopped down the steps. Nightfall had lowered the temperature a good twenty degrees. Late summer was peeling away, and the crackling colors and temperatures of autumn could be seen around the edges. We passed several small shops, including a fabric store and one that looked to be bursting with old books. Alice in Bookland was painted in green and white letters across the window. I stopped to gaze through the dusty pane.
    Everly walked up next to me. “This is a cool store if you like to browse old books and newspapers. Alice is this unique old lady who has lived here her whole life. Her husband died in a logging accident about thirty years ago, but she stuck it out. She’s kind of a hoarder.” Everly lowered her voice as if the woman, Alice, was listening. “There is definitely an order to her madness though. She has everything organized by date, even all the books. If you ever want to read about an old news event in this area, Alice is your go to source.”
    My heart gave a little skip. “Yes, I would. Can you introduce me?” I tried to push the enthusiasm from my tone not wanting to bring on too many questions. Everly knew I wasn’t just here to file folders at a sawmill, but there were so many things I wasn’t ready to tell her.
    “Absolutely.” We walked along a sidewalk that was mostly just patches of cement placed haphazardly in gravel and dirt. Yellow lights flickered over ramshackle porches casting an uneven glow out over the