Chapter 4 Nora
Nora
The Magnolia Ladies were waiting for me.
Not in the bakery.
Not even on the sidewalk.
No — they ambushed me inside the library.
I walked into the Eagle River Library first thing the next morning, juggling my keys, my cardigan slipping off one shoulder, and a tote bag full of puppet supplies for story time.
And there they were.
The Magnolia Ladies.
All three of them.
Sitting in my reading nook like pastel-colored gargoyles. I didn’t ask for the library key; it would hurt their feelings, after all. Mable was the librarian here for forty years.
Agnes crossed her ankles. “We need to talk, dear.”
Mabel folded her hands primly. “About the Rangers.”
June handed me a cinnamon roll before I could speak, as if I’d need sugar for whatever judgment they were about to unleash.
I sighed. “What did Trigger do now?”
“Oh, nothing,” Mabel said. “Yet.”
Agnes leaned forward. “But Wyatt Maddox caught you again, didn’t he?”
My face went up in flames. “Caught me doing what exactly?”
June flapped her hand. “Existing, dear. The man looks at you like he found the cure for loneliness.”
I stared at them. “No, he— that’s not— I just brought them the brownies.”
“Brownies.” Agnes nodded solemnly. “The universal currency of courtship.”
I groaned. “I am not courting Wyatt Maddox, and you three made the brownies.”
“Maybe but you carried them over there,” June said, sipping her tea. “He’s got his eye on you.”
I couldn’t deny the flutter in my stomach at that.
The way he said ma’am.
The way he stood when I entered the room.
The way he watched the street like it was his job to make sure I got across safely.
But before I could dig myself any deeper, the library door swung open.
And trouble walked in.
Spiky boots.
Leather jacket.
Glossy black hair in loose waves that would’ve made a shampoo commercial jealous.
Lipstick the color of rebellion itself.
Rylie Tate.
Sheriff Tate’s daughter.
Eagle River’s resident bad idea wrapped in a breathtaking package.
“Morning, Nora,” she said cheerfully, dropping a pastry box on my counter. “I brought you croissants because I feel guilty for what I’m about to do.”
“Oh?” I blinked. “What are you about to do?”
She smiled like a fox with a matchbook. “Visit the Rangers.”
All three Magnolia Ladies groaned in unison.
“Riley, absolutely not,” Agnes scolded.
“You leave those boys alone,” Mabel warned. “Especially Trigger.”
Riley twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Why, especially Trigger?”
“Because he’s impressionable,” June said.
I snorted so loudly I almost choked on my coffee. “Trigger? Impressionable?”
The ladies nodded gravely.
Riley grinned wickedly. “All the more reason.”
She shot me a wink, scooped up the pastry box, and sauntered out the door.
Agnes clapped her hands on her knees. “This is going to end in disaster.”
“Oh absolutely,” Mabel said. “I love it.”
I lasted ten minutes before curiosity yanked me to the window.
Across the street, Riley leaned casually against a support beam, her shirt tied at her waist in a way that should have been illegal before noon.
Trigger froze with a hammer mid-swing.
Saint walked into a ladder.
I thought I even heard Havoc mutter something that probably violated town decency laws.
Wolf stepped out onto the porch, narrowed his eyes, and crossed his arms like he was deciding whether to arrest her himself.
Even from here, I saw Riley’s grin widen.
Oh no.
She strolled toward Wolf.
Said something.
He replied with a curt, “No.”
She said something else.
He repeated, “No.”
Then Trigger chimed in.
And Riley lit up like Christmas.
Wolf looked like he’d swallowed a lemon whole.
Saint wandered inside, shaking his head.
And Trigger?
Trigger leaned against the doorway and turned his best “I’m trouble but in a charming way” smile on her.
They were going to kill each other.
Or get married.
Really, it could go either way.
Later that afternoon, I headed over with a folder of old town maps—Saint had asked for help identifying some of the structure’s original layout.
The tavern door was open.
Dust hung in the air.
Music played from someone’s phone—classic rock, loud enough to vibrate the floorboards.
Trigger was on a ladder installing lighting.
Saint was painting.
Havoc was ripping out trim with unnecessary violence.
Wolf was sanding a railing with slow, methodical strokes.
And Riley was sitting on the bar eating one of my croissants she gave me like she owned the place.
Trigger spotted me first. “HEY! Nora’s here!”
Riley smiled. “Oh, good.” Riley winked at me.
I held up the folder. “I have the old tavern plans—if you want them.”
Wolf set down the sander and walked toward me. “Thank you. This helps.”
Riley hopped off the bar. “I was just keeping them entertained.”
Wolf shot her a flat look. “No. You were causing a distraction.”
She smirked. “Same thing.”
Trigger hopped off the ladder. “Nora, look. I installed this crooked!”
“It’s not crooked,” Saint said, not looking up.
“It will be if Riley keeps messing with me,” Trigger argued.
Riley rolled her eyes. “I literally breathed.”
“You breathe distracting,” Trigger shot back.
She winked. “I know.”
Wolf pinched the bridge of his nose like he already had a Riley-induced migraine.
He looked at me. “You bring tranquilizers by any chance?”
I laughed. “Sorry. Just paper.”
Riley slid closer to me. “So, Nora… who’s your favorite?”
I sputtered. “Favorite what?”
“Favorite Ranger,” she said innocently.
Trigger leaned forward, too interested.
Havoc paused in his demolition.
Saint straightened.
Wolf went utterly still.
I lifted my chin. “None of your business.”
Riley cackled. “Good answer.”
Wolf’s mouth twitched—almost a smile.
And that was the moment I knew I wasn’t scared of him anymore.