6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Paige walked beside Ethan, her tennis shoes scuffing against the uneven pavement of the dark alley. Brick buildings loomed on both sides, fencing them in. The sun had set, and the crevices around dumpsters and back doors stretched wider in the dim glow of distant streetlights.
There was no way she would have walked down this alley alone.
Her writer’s mind spun with possibilities—a heroine in danger, a villain lurking in the shadows, a well-timed escape, or a deadly mistake.
“You know,” she said, glancing at Ethan and his six-foot, athletic frame, “if you kill me, the cops will figure it out. You’ve got a motive now that I’ve shown you the clue.”
Ethan turned his head, amusement flickering across his face. “I’m not going to kill you,” he replied smoothly. “We’ve got a book to write, remember? Contract’s signed.”
Paige narrowed her eyes, trying to look intimidating. She wasn’t serious. Of course she knew Ethan wasn’t a threat, but the eerie setting made her nerves hum, and she wasn’t sure she liked it. The alley felt like the perfect backdrop for a suspenseful chase scene.
But unlike the scenarios playing in her head, the contract was real.
During the Uber ride from Gino’s Pizza, Ethan had called his editor, negotiated the changes Paige demanded, and within minutes, she’d electronically signed. Like it or not, they were in this together now—writing a book and navigating a scavenger hunt.
She only hoped Ethan actually knew where he was leading them. And that it wasn’t straight to their demise.
“We’re almost there,” he said, as if sensing her spiraling thoughts.
Paige shot him a skeptical look. “The clue is in this creepy alley? Are you sure? What does this place have to do with a hearth or pizza pies? I’m doubting your riddle-solving skills.”
Ethan nodded toward a staircase that disappeared underground. “The clue never said anything about pizza.” He grinned.
Paige stopped short. “Where are we going?”
Ethan halted and turned to her. He gestured toward the black metal railing framing the stone stairwell. Paige followed his gaze, looking down the stairs and expecting a dead end—or worse. But she spotted a wooden door, its small glass window aglow with warm light from inside.
“We’re going down there?” she asked incredulously. “Into the basement of some random building?”
“Trust me.” Ethan’s grin widened, a little too Cheshire Cat-like for her comfort. And no one should trust the Cheshire Cat. “It’s not some random building. It’s Midnight Sweets—a bakery that only opens in the evenings. My grandparents used to come here every Thursday for pie.”
“Pie? Like . . . dessert?” Paige hesitated. Her pulse picked up. Alice had been right. The clue wasn’t about pizza. It was talking about sweet pie. Paige had been researching every pizza place in the city, running down the wrong path the entire time.
“Every kind of pie you can think of,” Ethan replied just as the door swung open. A couple stepped out, laughter trailing behind them. Warmth and the hum of conversation spilled into the dark alley.
Maybe Ethan wasn’t leading her to her death.
“How long has this been here?” Paige asked, giving in and following Ethan down the stairwell. She gripped the metal handrail as she descended. “Why are there no signs?”
“Used to be a speakeasy during Prohibition,” Ethan said over his shoulder. “The bakery plays on that. No signs. No advertising. It’s strictly word of mouth.”
Ethan held the door open for her, and they stepped inside.
The scent of buttered sugar and warm spices wrapped around her.
The restaurant had exposed brick walls, wooden beams stretched across the ceiling, and soft candlelight flickered over white-clothed tables.
A glass case displayed an array of desserts—pies, cupcakes, cookies—while a bustling kitchen behind the counter churned out more.
“Wow,” Paige murmured, taking it all in.
But Ethan wasn’t paying attention. He leaned toward the host, exchanged a few quiet words and a folded bill. A few moments later, the host led them to a table for two, directly in front of a stone fireplace.
Paige grasped the back of her chair, her gaze fixed on the hearth. Instead of a fire, dozens of white pillar candles flickered inside.
“The hearth,” she said, putting the pieces of the riddle together.
“Yep,” Ethan said, scanning the space. “This was their table. My grandparents had a standing weekly reservation. Sometimes I’d join them.”
Paige stepped back as a server bustled past with a tray of steaming apple pie à la mode. “But the clue said savory, not sweet. What was that about?”
“They make savory pies too,” Ethan said, sinking into his seat. Paige followed. “My grandparents loved the cast iron shepherd’s pie. And their tomato and goat cheese tart.”
“Okay, this might be my new favorite place,” Paige admitted, distracted by the spread of decadent treats around them. “Now I wish I hadn’t eaten so much pizza.”
Ethan smirked. “Do you have room for pie?”
Paige scoffed, setting her hand on her chest. “I always have room for pie.”
His grin widened. “They have an incredible lemon-raspberry meringue. Sound good?”
“Like heaven. Only a crazy person would turn that down.”
Ethan waved over the server and placed their order. But as soon as she walked away, they both focused back on the task at hand.
“Where would your grandpa hide the clue?” Paige asked, her eyes darting around.
Ethan didn’t answer. Instead, he slid off his chair and ducked under the table.
Paige blinked. “What are you—”
Not about to be left out, she dropped to her knees and crawled under with him.
“I don’t see anything,” Ethan muttered, twisting to examine the underside of the table.
Paige scooted closer. “Let me check.”
He gave her some side-eye. “Don’t trust my assessment?”
“Not yet,” she quipped.
His only response was a quiet, “Hmm.” Then, shifting back, he murmured, “Might be near the mantle.”
Paige moved to follow—but, apparently, too quickly. As they backed out from under the table and stood, they collided. Hard. Forehead to forehead with a thump.
A sharp smack, a flash of pain. Paige yelped, teetering backward.
“Son of a biscuit—”
But before she could crash into a neighboring table, muscular arms caught her.
She sucked in a breath, stopping mid-fall.
Ethan had grabbed her, and he held her close, dipping her like they’d just finished a dramatic salsa routine.
His blond hair flopped across his forehead, his mouth slightly parted in surprise.
His scent was . . . clean rain on hot pavement?
Fresh linen hung in an August breeze? The crisp bite of an autumn apple?
Paige swallowed, her mind spinning as she inhaled, which threw her even further off balance.
Electricity snapped through her nerves, heating every spot where he touched her. Which was a lot of surface area.
Her brain stalled.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice embarrassingly breathless.
Ethan blinked, as if just realizing he was still holding her. “I—” He cleared his throat. “Keeping you from hitting the floor?”
It sounded like a question. Like maybe he’d just felt the same zing she had.
Then Ethan smirked. “Did you just yell ‘Son of a Biscuit’?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I think I did.”
A throat cleared beside them, and they both turned their heads to find the server unimpressed, holding a plate.
“Your lemon-raspberry pie,” she said flatly.
Paige scrambled upright, cheeks flaming, as Ethan let go.
Because, obviously, she should focus on finding the clue—not on the feeling of being pressed to Ethan’s solid-as-steel chest, or on inhaling his mind-numbing scent, or on staring deeply into his ice-blue eyes.
Besides, he was only keeping her clumsy self from crashing into a table. Nothing more.
The server set the pie and a few plates on the table.
Paige slid into her seat and said, “Thank you.” It was a blanket statement, meant for the server and Ethan’s quick reflexes. Ethan offered a grin and joined her at the table.
“Enjoy, and let me know if you need anything else,” the server said, before scurrying off.
Paige quickly scooped a big forkful of pie into her mouth, wanting to stop herself from saying anything stupid. The citrus tang and creamy texture broke through her embarrassment and made her sigh. “My goodness.”
As they chewed and relished the amazingness of the dessert, Paige braced herself for the teasing—about smacking heads, her general clumsiness, the old-lady cursing, or maybe the way her cheeks must’ve flamed red as he held her.
Instead, Ethan glanced over her shoulder and stopped chewing.
Paige followed his wide-eyed stare. “What?”
He stood and took two strides to the fireplace mantel. Paige followed but wasn’t sure what he saw. Quickly, she realized the wooden mantel had the name of the restaurant etched across the front of it.
Find the name etched in the dining room.
Paige sucked in a breath. She stood on her tiptoes next to Ethan, trying to see what he saw, but his height was definitely an advantage. Reaching up, he pulled an envelope from between the stone hearth and the wooden mantel.
“I saw the corner of it peeking out.” Ethan turned to her, his eyes wide, holding the envelope between them.
“The third clue,” Paige whisper-shouted in excitement, feeling like they’d just discovered treasure in a pirate ship. She gasped. “Open it.”
They sat back down at their table, and Ethan carefully broke the red wax seal—just like the last envelope. Paige scooted to the edge of her seat and wanted to scream for him to go faster, but caught the tenderness on his face and squashed down her excitement, letting him go at his own speed.
Ethan’s fingers traced the edge of the paper before he carefully unfolded it, his breath hitching just slightly as he read.
His usual cocky bravado faded, replaced by something quieter, more intense.
Paige had expected him to gloat or toss off some smug remark.
Instead, he just stared at the words, his jaw tightening like they meant more than just another step in the treasure hunt.
Something in her chest shifted. She had assumed this was a game to him, a convenient excuse to ride on her idea. But now, watching the way he held the fragile scrap of paper—as if it contained something precious—she wasn’t so sure.
For her, this was a treasure hunt.
For him, it was much more.
Finally, Ethan set the paper on the table between them. They both angled over it, their heads just inches apart. Ethan read aloud, and Paige followed the penned cursive as he spoke.
Framed in light, a century’s glow,
a hidden mark where dreamers go.
Stars above, stars below,
find the name that stole the show.
Past and present, red and gold,
where echoes of cheers never grow old.
Seek the seat where lovers met,
above the symbol they won’t forget.
Paige looked up at Ethan, expecting instant recognition like last time.
Instead, he was staring at the words, reading them again, his lips moving silently, his brow furrowed.
“I’m not sure about this one,” he admitted, the lines on his forehead deepening. He raised the paper in front of his face as if getting the words closer would help him make sense of it.
“Can you ask your grandma? She should know, right?” Paige asked the obvious question. If these clues were specific to her and Ethan’s grandpa, she should be able to tell them exactly where to look next.
Ethan’s face fell. A storm cloud billowed into his eyes. Paige sat up, startled. Did she miss something?
“I’m sorry, I—” she started, suddenly feeling horrible and not exactly sure why.
Ethan shook his head, stopping her. “My grandma has Alzheimer’s. She’s in a memory care facility.”
“Oh—” Paige gasped. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
He nodded, the clouds in his eyes dissipating. “I’m not sure she’d know. Some days are better than others.”
Paige nodded, feeling awful. He’d lost his grandpa and now, slowly, he was losing his grandma too. Life could be so cruel. She pursed her lips, trying to convey empathy in her eyes since words suddenly felt inadequate.
“That’s why I want to find the necklace. For my grandma.” His voice was hushed. “Her memories are fading, but objects from her past seem to bring them back. And that necklace holds a lot of memories for her.”
Paige’s heart squeezed. Hard. Like a lemon in a juicer. Ethan wasn’t searching for the necklace for himself. He was doing it for his grandma.
A lump lodged in her throat, and without thinking, she set her hand on his forearm. “We’ll find it,” she promised, surprised to see this side of Ethan. She nearly told him so, but before she could, a bright flash lit the side of her vision.
Both she and Ethan turned.
A woman stood amongst the tables, phone raised and pointed at them. Another flash.
Paige blinked. “Did she just—”
The woman stuffed her phone into her purse and bolted for the door.
Ethan was already on his feet. “We should go.”
Because this treasure hunt had just taken an unexpected turn.