How to Not Fall for the Guy Next Door - Meg Easton

1

Addison

Addison turned into the parking lot of Gateway Groceries in Quicksand, Oregon and pulled into a parking spot. Then she called her sister. As soon as she heard her sister’s concerned voice on the other end, Addison said, “I didn’t die.”

Chloe squealed. “So you’re home, then?”

Home. It felt weird to call Quicksand “home.” She had spent her summers from ages ten to thirteen here, but that hadn’t made it “home” any more than playing Barbie Dreamhouse meant she was married to Ken. Amarillo was home. Quicksand had always been temporary. An exciting game of dress-up. She wondered how long it would take before calling this place home wouldn’t seem weird.

“I’m in Quicksand, but not at the inn. The moving truck is forty-five minutes behind me, so I’m stopping at the grocery store.” Her stomach had been growling almost as loudly as the radio was playing, so getting food was essential.

“Oh, I’m so glad you made it safely.”

“I told you I could make it seventeen hundred miles across seven states on my own. See? You should leave the worrying to the older sister. I’m better at it anyway.”

She grabbed her purse and stepped out of her car as her sister laughed. The air was fresh here, like she could smell the trees and the soil. Both of which were wet from a recent rainstorm. Even the air itself felt wet. She wasn’t sure which was more plentiful—the trees with the moss-covered trunks or the blackberry bushes.

“Speaking of worrying, I still feel awful that I left a week before you move out of the freaking country. Do you need me to fly back to make sure you get off okay?” She shook out her legs before walking toward the building. Spending twenty-seven hours in the car, six of them this morning, was really doing a number on her muscles.

“Nope. Dustin and I have everything under control. You stay there.” Each word was a punch. A hammer on a nail to hold her tether firmly in Quicksand. “I didn’t make your website and ads for you to miss your first clients.”

“You’re so bossy.”

She could hear Chloe’s grin through the phone. “I learned from the best. Now, go grab that fresh start by the horns and show it who’s boss!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“And then call me after the movers leave.”

“I will.”

Addison pushed the phone into her purse, took a deep breath, and walked through the automatic front doors of Gateway Grocery. Leaving the city she’d lived in her entire life, packing up everything she owned, and moving halfway across the country to a city where she knew exactly zero people was fine. She was fine. Everything would be fine.

Piece of cake.

As she wandered up and down the aisles, she realized she probably should’ve spent less time on the drive jamming out to the radio, playing the license plate game with herself, and trying to distract herself from thoughts of Matthew and her old job and her hometown and everything she was leaving behind, and more time coming up with a grocery list. She had no idea what kind of food was at the inn, if there was anything at all. For the past four years, her Aunt Helen hadn’t used the property as an inn—she lived there with her nurse like it was just a big house. And for the past three months since she passed away, no one had lived there at all.

So there could be things like spices, flour, sugar, coffee, and maybe even some food in the freezer. Or there could be nothing—she had no idea if anyone packed anything up at all. It was a mystery. And mysteries were fun, right? At least, that was what she was always trying to convince Matthew of. It would probably drive him nuts, all the not knowing. But things between them were over, so she was going to relish every mystery he would’ve hated.

It was probably best to forget shopping for staples and just get some fresh fruits and vegetables and maybe some soup she could easily warm up. With only a few things in her cart from her meandering trip through the store, she turned toward the produce aisle.

The deli faced the produce section, and as the older man behind the counter finished up with a customer, he turned his attention to her, studying her. Against his darker skin, his white eyebrows stood out, looking rather judgy as they came together over his curious eyes. At a population of ten thousand, Quicksand wasn’t exactly small-town-ish