Page 3 of Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

That was a no, but to be fair, he had reason to doubt me. I did too.

Nevertheless, I wasn’t going to let Tilly pay me to drink margaritas at Pueblo Real while everyone else was working, Colt included. Especially since I knew he’d passed up the chance to sing at Turner’s country bar to be here tonight. Colt was talented, and I truly believed someone would realize it someday, but the catering job paid more, and we needed cash. Sure, my mother had left me our family home and a $50,000 life insurance policy, but both were currently tied up in litigation. After a three-week stint in a rehab clinic for his anger issues and drinking, my brother Roy had decided to contest our mother’s will since it had been created and signed less than two weeks before her cancer-related death. Even if it did give him the majority of her estate.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, getting irritated, more with myself than him, but I wasn’t so sure he could tell the difference.

He gave me a sad smile and whispered, “I love you, Maggie Mae.”

“I love you too,” I said, then headed to the back before I broke into tears. He deserved better than to be stuck with me and my neuroses. He’d fallen for me before I’d become a basket case.

Maybe it was time to give Colt a lifeboat so he could make his escape.

Chapter Two

The event kicked into full gear, and to my surprise, I kept busy bringing out fresh bins of food for the buffet line. After I’d taken out the last full pan, I stared at the stack of empty ones, my stomach churning. Beforethe incident, I wouldn’t have thought twice about carrying dirty dishes out to the vans. It had pretty much been my job. But now I was scared of my own shadow.

My frustration began to build. I was giving Tripp Tucker, and those two stupid podcasters, control over my life. I picked up a pan and steeled myself. I was perfectly capable of walking outside alone in the dark. Fear had ruled my life for ten years after Tripp’s first attack. I wasn’t going to give it any more power over me.

Dr. Norton would be so proud.

I opened the back door, propping it open with a brick, and carried the empty pans out to the van. Balancing the pans on my hip, I unlocked the back doors, then climbed in and set the empty dishes on one of the tied-down shelves.

As I climbed out, a woman called out, “Magnolia? Magnolia Steele!”

My feet froze and fear swamped my head.

Stop it. You’re fine.

My pep talk freed my feet, but I still had no desire to speak to a stranger. I was halfway to the door before she got close enough to stop me.

She was young, probably in her early twenties. Her casual outfit, jeans and a T-shirt, indicated she wasn’t part of the corporate dinner, plus she’d come from around the side of the building rather than from inside.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m busy.”

“This will only take a moment,” she said, holding out her hand, palm out, and sounding as sweet as Tilly’s peach cobbler. “I’m Mo Barker. I’ve been trying everything in my power to get in touch with you, so I finally resorted to tracking you down in person.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “In what universe is it a good idea to ambush a trauma victim?”

“Are you a trauma victim, Magnolia?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “Rumor has it you were having an affair with Tripp Tucker, and then it all went horribly wrong.”

My jaw dropped open. I wasn’t even sure how to respond to that.

“Are you shittin’ me?” Colt barked, bounding out the door and heading straight for us. “She was nearly killed by a psychopath, and you’re standing there insinuating that she brought it on herself?”

I turned to face him, surprised at the rage in his eyes. I put my hand on his chest to hold him back. “Colt. Stop. She’s not worth it.”

“You bet your ass she’s not worth it,” he shouted, pointing a finger at her. “You leave Magnoliathe fuck alone. You assholes are only stirring up shit!”

If Mo was daunted, she was a master at bluffing.

“Is it true that you, Magnolia, and Tripp Tucker had a threesome?” she asked, holding out a microphone.

How had I not noticed the mic before? She was recording every word.

Colt looked so angry I was sure he was about to have a stroke.

“You connivingbitch,” he snarled, trying to get past me.

“That doesn’t sound like a denial,” Mo said, her voice lilting with glee.

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