Chapter Fourteen
C allie had barely set her coffee down when Maggie breezed in with her usual chaotic, caffeine-fueled flair, Tater trotting proudly at her heels, a squeaky toy hanging from his mouth.
“I brought muffins today,” Maggie announced, presenting the pink box with a flourish.
Sammy perked up from his spot by the door, tail thumping lazily before he padded over to investigate. He sniffed the air, gave a hopeful nudge toward the box, and plopped his head dramatically on Callie’s knee.
“Oh, please,” Callie said, scratching his ear. “Like you didn’t have breakfast twenty minutes ago.”
Tater gave a hopeful yip and tried to stand on his back legs to peek into the pastry box.
“Down,” Maggie said, gently nudging him aside.
“You know these go straight to your hips, Tater, and extra weight isn’t good for your tiny legs.
” She sighed. “Fine, you and your soulful eyes,” she muttered, ripping off a tiny piece to toss to him.
“But now you have to do an extra walk before lunch to work it off.”
Callie shared a piece of her muffin with Sammy, then tipped her head at her sister. “Speaking of work, you promised me bookkeeping help.”
“Which I fully intend to deliver,” Maggie said, tossing each dog a small carrot chunk from a pouch in her purse. “There, that eases my conscience a little. And, dear sister, I shall get on the books as soon as I stabilize my blood sugar. I can’t perform accounting miracles on an empty stomach.”
Callie snorted but didn’t argue. The back office was already a mess of folders, invoices, and last month’s receipts that had multiplied like rabbits in the dark. If Maggie wanted to tackle that chaos armed with a glazed twist and moral superiority, fine by her.
“So…” Maggie settled into the chair opposite her and tore into a maple bar. “You and Matthew.”
Callie froze mid-bite. “What about us?”
“You tell me. Grandma Jo was ready to propose on last night.”
Callie groaned and dropped her forehead to the table. “Please don’t remind me.”
“I’m simply saying, if you wanted family approval, you nailed it. Mom’s already assigning him imaginary bonus points. And Grandma Jo? She’s practically ordering a dress for the wedding.”
Callie lifted her head with a dramatic sigh, but the heat rising in her cheeks was very real. “You’re ridiculous.”
Maggie grinned. “Nope. Observant. You’re glowing, Cal. Even under stress. The way he looks at you? That’s not casual.”
She tried to brush it off, but Maggie wasn’t wrong. Matthew had a way of making her feel important, alive, protected without smothering, and grounded, even as the world around her threatened to fall apart.
“He came out of the diner while I was still in the parking lot last night,” she admitted quietly.
Maggie’s sparkling gaze widened. “And?”
“And we kissed.” The heat in Callie’s cheeks increased. “Well, actually, I kissed him. And no—before you ask—my lips were the only thing that touched him.”
“For now.”
Callie groaned and shook her head but couldn’t help the smile curling her lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe. But I’m happy for you. And don’t even try to act as if you’re not already in deep.”
She glanced down at her coffee, swirling the contents in slow circles. Maybe she was.
Maybe that was the scariest and best part of all.
They settled into their morning routine with coffee, sugar, and a soundtrack of Maggie’s muttered judgments on Callie’s filing system. It was almost normal. Almost easy.
Until the bell above the front door jingled, and Callie heard a familiar voice call out, “Morning, Callie!”
Both dogs jumped up. Sammy’s tail thudded against the floor while Tater let out a series of high-pitched barks, ready to sound the alarm or demand affection. Possibly both.
She stood, brushed crumbs off her jeans, then swiped her half-eaten muffin off her desk on her way to the front, dogs racing ahead. “Hey, Everett.”
The older man lived across the street. He was widower now and stopped by regularly. He owned a very impressive blueberry farm, and when she and her sister were kids, he used to let them raid the bushes. She’d always picked twice as many as Maggie.
Callie glanced down at the muffin in her hand and smiled. Blueberries were her jam. “What’s up? You looking for compost or conversation today?”
He chuckled, already leaning down to ruffle Sammy’s ears and accept Tater’s frantic sniff inspection. “Neither. Figured I should tell you about the truck.”
Her heart lurched. “Truck?” She blinked. “What truck?”
“Yeah. Dark one. Really clean. No logos. Parked out by your gate right after sunrise this morning. No one got out, it just idled there for a while. I was walking my dog, and it gave me a weird feeling, y’know? Thought I’d mention it.”
Behind her, Maggie edged into view, sipping coffee.
“Hey there, Maggie,” Everett greeted with a nod.
“Hi, Everett,” she replied.
“Did they come in?” Callie asked, forcing her voice to stay casual.
“Nope,” Everett said. “Sat there maybe five minutes, then turned around and drove off toward the county line.”
Her stomach twisted.
Not only was it weird, it was timed .
They’d come for it.
Her pulse kicked up as she nodded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
“No trouble,” Everett said kindly. “Thought I should say something, though. Don’t like the idea of strangers lurking around out here.”
“Me either.” Her voice was quiet now.
Everett gave her a polite tip of his cap and left, taking the morning euphoria with him.
The earth felt as if it had tilted under her feet. Callie moved closer to the counter and dropped the remains of the muffin in the nearby trash, her appetite gone.
A truck waiting by her gate.
A box that was on her manifest but shouldn’t have been.
They’d come to pick it up.
But it wasn’t here, it was at ESI.
She pulled the phone from her pocket, thumbs poised over the screen, but she didn’t text right away. For a second, she stood there, breath shallow, mind whirring. Not with panic, but with certainty.
This was her land. Her family’s business. She’d poured herself into this place, and into every bed of soil, every customer interaction, every order double-checked and signed off with care.
And now, someone had tried to hijack that trust. Smuggle poison through her home.
Callie swallowed hard.
Not on my damn watch.
She typed fast.
Neighbor spotted a truck waiting by the gate at dawn. No one got out. Turned back toward county line. I think they came for the box.
She hit Send before she could think too long about it.
Maggie’s voice was soft behind her. “What’s going on?”
With a sigh, Callie filled her sister in. “My guess is they were here to pick up the shipment.”
“They didn’t get it.”
“No,” she said. “They didn’t.”
But they’d tried.
And that changed everything.
Callie hadn’t moved from behind the counter, not even after Maggie had returned to the back office. She glanced at her phone sitting on the counter beside her. The dark screen reflected her strained expression.
She exhaled. Things were getting worse. Thank God this hadn’t happened when her dad had been sick.
The dogs, sprawled out on their designated beds near the sink, had gone quiet again, but they watched her with a look, telling her they knew something was off.
When her phone finally buzzed, she snatched it up so quickly it nearly flew out of her hands. “Take it easy,” she muttered under her breath, then answered Matthew’s call. “Hey.”
His voice was calm but clipped. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she said, then paused. “No. Not really. Everett, my neighbor, stopped by. He said he was out walking his dog early this morning and saw a truck parked at the gate.”
A beat of silence passed on the other end. She could almost picture the way his jaw would tick, the way he’d swipe a hand over his face and start mentally calculating the next steps.
“Did he get a plate?” Matthew asked.
“No. Said it was clean. No logos, no movement. It sat there a few minutes, then drove off toward the county line.”
“Shit.” His voice was lower now, tight. “We figured they might circle back, but not this soon.”
Callie closed her eyes. “So, it really was a pickup?”
“GreenSpan Imports was the name on the invoice Carter found in the box. You flagged the delivery itself, and that gave us the opening. Carter’s digging deeper now.
” Matthew’s voice was steady but clipped.
“Turns out the payment route links GreenSpan to Vantage Gulf Holdings—one of Duke Carver’s old development firms.”
Cripes.
Callie’s pulse kicked up . She’d known something felt off when she signed for that box, but the manifest had listed her usual supplier, FieldSource Garden Supply. She never saw anything with GreenSpan on it. “So, they’re still using his networks.”
“Or someone picked up where he left off,” Matthew said. “Either way, the fact that someone showed up looking for that shipment means they know we intercepted it. And that means they’re watching.”
She glanced toward the front windows, half expecting the truck to come back. “What do I do?”
“Nothing,” he immediately replied. “But keep your eyes open. Carter’s pulling footage from the gate cam now. I’ll swing by after lunch to check the perimeter and talk to your neighbor. You shouldn’t be alone this week.”
“I’m not. Maggie’s here,” she said, then hesitated. “And Sammy. And Tater, my sister’s Corgi.”
“Even better.” She could hear the edge in his voice soften slightly. “Golden retriever muscle and Corgi attitude. Power combo.”
Despite the tension winding her nerves, she smiled. “They’d take a bullet for me.”
“I’d rather it not come to that.”
The words landed hard in her chest. They were said with warmth and a fierce, steady tone. and just like that, the earth shifted back a little closer to normal.
“Thanks for calling,” she said in a quieter voice.
“You text me that type of message,” he said, “you’re lucky I didn’t show up in person.”
She bit her lip. “Pretty sure you got that backward. I’d be lucky if you did.”
“I plan to.”