The One With The Secret Crushes (Lost Creek #1)

Chapter 1

One

Mackenzie

You let reality smack her in the face

The town of Lost Creek was many things but quiet wasn't one of them. Aside from the roar of the river that served as our permanent background noise, there were the whispers of the town busybodies, of which my Aunt Sharon was their fearless leader. Gossip spread across town like wildfire. Everyone knew everything about everybody.

Which was why I'd kept mostly to myself since moving home six months ago. Winter helped keep most of the town from noticing my hermit status but now it was spring and there was nowhere to hide.

I felt several pairs of eyes on me as I dropped into the empty chair at the Green Door Café. My best friend, and new employee, Joanne, had selected one of the sidewalk tables to enjoy the spring air drifting through the mountain gorge. I was exposed and I could already hear the barely hushed words as information spread.

Mackenzie Howard is out in public!

She's wearing a sundress. It's a bit too chilly for sundresses.

How is the poor dear doing? Is she smiling?

"We really don't have to do this." I took a sip of the coffee she had waiting for me.

"Yes. We. Do." Joanne flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder like I exhausted her.

Which, to be fair, I probably did.

I shrugged. "I worked hard, and it paid off." This little celebration breakfast was nice in theory, but Maeve Applebottom was staring at me from her usual perch at the window of the cafe. Without a doubt she was providing a detailed account to her best friend, my aforementioned Aunt Sharon, on the bags under my eyes, the cleanliness of my hair and skin, and my decision to wear a dress and Chucks, when Joanne and I should be at the office.

"You moved home, took over the family business, lost your dad, and turned the company around. We're booked solid for the rest of this month, all of May, and at eighty percent capacity for June and July. Your hard work didn't just pay off, Mack, it fucking exploded." She shoved a stack of pancakes my way. "Now celebrate."

"I think celebrations are supposed to be joyful."

She waved her syrupy fork at me. "And you're joyful...underneath your thick exterior of isolation and sadness. Crack that crust, and I do not mean the toast." She tugged the white plate of slightly browned and buttered bread away.

I owned the fact that I was letting my grief be the excuse I gave everyone for declining their kind invitations. But it wasn't actually the reason I had skipped every girls' night out, every birthday party, every dinner invitation.

Nope, the reality was much more embarrassing.

Lucy, Joanne's younger sister, grabbed a chair from another table and joined us. She was an exact copy of Joanne, just three years younger and with a bigger smile. "Congrats on landing that huge client for the summer." Then she promptly stole Joanne's muffin.

Joanne glared at her but did nothing to stop it.

After my dad's funeral I threw myself into making Lost Creek Cabins a destination people dreamed of visiting for long romantic getaways, weddings, and for summer adventures hiking, horseback riding, and rafting down the river.

The businesses in our tiny Appalachian town had already been working together to create a symbiotic system for bringing different groups of tourists in at different times of year and packaging up our offerings. After a winter of pushing it even further, special things were happening for me, and everyone else.

I was just starting to breathe, to feel like a success, when I received the biggest booking in the history of our business. I knew because I crawled through all of Dad's records for proof.

Someone had rented out the Golden Hour cabin for the entire summer and paid in full from the first of May to the thirty-first of October.

The cash injection from the summer-long rental pushed us over the edge and into the black at an unusually early date in the year. Joanne declared our need for a celebration but all I would agree to was breakfast because it had the lowest probability of me seeing Scott Shaw.

"It means that even if we don't book another day this summer, even if we had a bunch of cancellations—which we won't—the money we sank into renovations and updating the cabins is covered." Joanne held up her coffee for a toast. "Congrats, boss."

I clinked my mug against hers and Lucy's and let a little pride warm my chest. I was damn proud that all that work paid off. Dad had done a great job carving out the business and keeping it running. All I did was take it to the next level and modernize it a little. New website, more social media, new colors. The reservations flooded in.

"You should come to the saloon Friday night and keep the celebration going," Joanne said.

Lucy nodded enthusiastically. "You haven't been out once. I love Friday nights so much. Scottie's done so much to the place. It's clean now. And the music! I mean, come on , live music in Lost Creek?"

I might not have stepped foot inside Still Standing Saloon, but I knew everything that changed when Scott took over the family business from his Uncle Jerry.

Scott renovated half the bar to be an upscale bourbon and whiskey experience. The other half was a cleaner version of the dive bar we all knew and loved. He added local musicians on Friday nights and lured in bands from out of town for Saturdays. He hosted bourbon tasting experiences, which Joanne booked for our guests on occasion.

I knew all of this because I'd had a crush on Scott Shaw since my freshman year of high school.

I avoided Scott Shaw because he forgot I existed, and it crushed me. Four years of friendship apparently meant nothing to him. All along I feared he simply put up with me because he felt sorry for me. That I was a kid to him and once I was gone, easily forgotten. For years I hung onto the hope that when I finally ran into Scott again, he'd see me as a woman.

Instead, he didn't recognize me at all.

"I really don't like going out," I replied, hoping they didn't notice the blush on my cheeks. Embarrassment was never something I was good at hiding. "Bars aren't my scene."

Certainly not bars owned and operated by Scott Shaw.

"Hmph." Lucy stuck out her lower lip.

"It's not gonna happen," Joanne grumbled. "We should just quit trying."

Lucy leaned closer to her sister and tried to cover her mouth as she whispered, "But she likes him."

Great. My stupid crush was known just like everything else in this town.

Joanne didn't bother whispering. "She does and she's being stubborn. I've known Mack long enough to know that you don't make her do anything. You let reality smack her in the face."

"I guess that means we have no choice," Lucy sighed.

"We do not. I'm really sorry my friend, but this is for your own good." Joanne waved at Maeve.

"What are you sorry for?" My gut sank as I saw it all happening in real time. Maeve stood up, eyes locked on me. From my left Aunt Sharon emerged from a car I didn't recognize. Aviana Rendall approached on the sidewalk with her Australian Shepherd, Barnaby.

This was an ambush.

"You're going to book club," Lucy said. "It's time."

No. No, no.

"You can't hide forever," Joanne shoved a forkful of pancakes in her mouth.

"I'll go to the saloon on Friday. I'll have breakfast here every day." Anything but book club.

Lucy shook her head slowly. "It's too late. Book club it is."

I was surrounded.

"Hello my darling niece!" Aunt Sharon reached down to pat Barnaby's head all while grinning maniacally at me. "We hear you've finally decided to join us."

"I think there's been a misunderstanding." Maybe if I crawled under the table I could slither past their feet and run for it.

Aunt Sharon clamped her hand down on my shoulder. "No misunderstanding. We've all sat back and given you time. We hoped you'd come to us on your own. But we cannot, we simply cannot , watch you wallow a moment longer. We've given you so many opportunities, Mackenzie. I know murder mysteries aren't your thing, but we must start somewhere."

"It's fun," Aviana insisted. "And there's food. Even if you don't like the book you'll like the food."

I wasn't so sure about that.

My Aunt Sharon did nothing conventionally. She wrote a best-selling series of books and then quit. She traveled extensively...for cheese. Seriously, she spent a month in Italy and all she came home with, all she talked about, was the cheese. And she ran Lost Creek's one and only book club, This Book Club Is My Alibi, also known as the TBCIMAs ( tee-buh-see-muhs) , and/or the Alibis. But it was no ordinary book club. It was a murder mystery book club. The only thing they read was murder mysteries, preferably serial killers. So many serial killers. It was all they talked about, aside from town gossip. The books, movies, podcasts, all serial killers.

And did they meet at the town bookstore? Oh no. Of course not. They met at the saloon instead.

Fuck my life.

But it was morning and Scott worked late. Sharon had the keys to the bar because he wouldn't be there. This would be fine.

"If it's so much fun then Joanne and Lucy should join us too." I shot daggers in their direction.

Joanne smirked. "I've got to run the office while the boss is getting some much-needed socialization."

"And I have a doctor's appointment," Lucy shrugged.

"Traitors. The lot of you."

Joanne covered my hand with hers and squeezed. "I can't sit back and watch you hide from the things you want anymore."

"And what is it you think I want?" I asked through clenched teeth.

She cocked her head and gave me a look that said everything she wouldn't say out loud because it would embarrass me even more than I already was. Talk to Scottie already.

"You want to spend time with your aunt, of course." Sharon replied instead. "And you're accepting my dinner invitation this week. I'm not taking no for an answer."

"Oh, can we do that?" Lucy asked. "Then you're definitely coming out Friday night. I'm not taking no for an answer either."

Maeve nodded. "Excellent. I'll see you for breakfast one day this week. I'll even let you pick the day."

"How gracious of you," I muttered. Forced socialization was the kind of thing that would only happen to me. "Well, I better get this book you're going to force me to read." I waved next door to the town's bookstore, The Tbr Pile.

"I'll go with you!" Everyone offered at once.

"You've got to be kidding me." I rubbed my temples as a headache began to bloom. "I can be trusted to walk into a bookstore by myself, thank you."

"But will you show up at the saloon?" Maeve's lips pinched.

"I drove." Joanne held up her car keys. "So her only escape is hitchhiking or walking."

I would not be walking the narrow mountain road that ran along the river and they all knew it. "You think I'm going to hitchhike after listening to you all talk about serial killers for months? No. I will pop into the store and buy the book, then join you at the saloon." Where I would not see Scott.

Probably.

"I'll finish my pancakes and make sure she keeps her word." Joanne grinned.

Sharon huffed. "Fine. Can you give Willow back her keys?" She pulled two sets of keys out of her bag. One for the saloon and one for Willow, the owner of the Tbr Pile.

"You really commit to a bit, don't you?" She borrowed Willow's car just to spy on me. Ridiculous!

"What's the point of reading all these books if we don't learn from them, Mackenzie?"

Maybe I could steal a bottle of bourbon from the bar. I was going to need something strong tonight. Scott probably wouldn't notice it was missing any more than he noticed me when I moved back.

Knowing I had no choice but to attend book club, I grabbed my bag. "I'll see you in a few."

A chorus of voices agreed, and I rolled my eyes before yanking the blue door to the Tbr Pile open and colliding with a warm, hard, masculine wall of flannel.

We stumbled back into the store. He caught me by the elbows and righted me with ease, his large hands warm and steady. My head buzzed and warmth flooded my veins in an exciting and unusual way, which was really unfortunate for me considering who I'd just run into.

Scott. Freaking. Shaw. I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me whole. This day just could not get any worse. It couldn’t. My celebratory breakfast was a trap, then I was ambushed, and for the cherry on top, I mowed over the one man I was actively trying to avoid. I would apologize, he wouldn't recognize me, and then I'd fling myself into the raging river for a grand finale.

But before I could open my mouth, he grinned. "Hey Mackenzie."