.

      The hint of accusation in Evie’s voice made Addy smile. A trip to the big city was a rare treat. “Calm down. I didn’t go to Mobile without you.”

      “I should hope not.” Frowning, Evie examined one of Addy’s curls. “I have to admit, it’s a great dye job. It looks so natural. But the upkeep is going to be a bitch, and all those chemicals are going to ruin your hair.”

      “Relax, Granola Girl, I didn’t dye my hair.”

      “You didn’t? So, what happened then? Somebody scare the crap out of you and make your hair turn white?” Evie gave her a squinty-eyed glare. “Your hair is straight as a stick, not curly. And it’s grown to your shoulders overnight. Explain that.” Her expression eased. “Oh, it’s a wig, isn’t it? Gosh, girl, you had me going. Can you imagine what your mother would say if you dyed your hair? She’d have a cow.” She waved her hands in the air. “She’d have a whole herd of cows.”

      “I didn’t dye my hair, and it’s not a wig.”

      “But, Addy—”

      Addy shoved aside the bouquet she was working on. “Look, Eves, I have to tell somebody or I’m going to explode. Something happened last night, and I—”

      The front door chimed, and a petite, fashionable blonde sailed into the shop on designer sling-back heels.

      “Later.” Evie sounded panic stricken. “Death Starr at two o’clock.”

      “Great,” Addy said. “Just what I needed.”

      Summoning a smile, she turned to greet her customer. “Good morning, Meredith. What can I do for you today?”

      “Good heavens, what have you done to yourself, Addy? You look wonderful.” Meredith Starr Peterson ignored Evie and set her Fendi leather baguette on the counter. She placed her left hand on top so that the huge diamond ring she wore sparkled in the light. “You went to Mobile for a makeover, didn’t you, you sly thing, and didn’t tell me!”

      “Evie and I went together.” Addy winced as she received a sharp kick in the ankle from Evie. “It was a lark, you know. One of those glam shot things at the mall.”

      “You and The Whale went?” Out of the corner of her eye Addy saw Evie cringe as Meredith’s attention shifted to her. Meredith’s upper lip curled as she looked Evie up and down. “Looks like the same old Whaley Douglass to me. I’d say you wasted your time and your money.”

      Meredith had been a thorn in Addy’s side since seventh grade, but that was nothing to how she’d mistreated poor Evie over the years. For some unknown reason, Meredith hated Evie. To make matters worse, Evie was now the bookkeeper in the Peterson Land Office, the business owned and operated by Meredith’s husband, Trey. This seemed to make Meredith hate Evie worse and gave the Death Starr more torture time.

      “Grow up, Meredith, and stop picking on people,” Addy said. “This is not high school.”

      Meredith raised her arched brows. “This is a small town, Addy. It will always be high school. Only we’re in the twenty-first grade instead of the twelfth.” She drummed her long, red nails on the counter. “And in case you’ve forgotten—though how you could when it was ‘the’ social event of the season three years ago is beyond me—I’m Mrs. Trey Peterson now. What I say goes, same as in high school.”

      “You mean, because Trey has money.”

      “Exactly. Something you’d do well to remember as a businesswoman.”

      Addy swallowed her retort as Brand and Ansgar strode into the shop. Brand looked bigger and more intimidating and—God help all females—more handsome in broad daylight, even in that ridiculous getup. Nobody in their right mind wore leather in Alabama in the summertime, unless they were into something kinky or on the back of a motorcycle. Or maybe both. Ansgar looked around him with interest, but Brand seemed indifferent to his surroundings, bored even. And then he looked at her. His expression might be impassive, but his green eyes blazed with fury. Whew, she had one seriously pissed-off medieval dude in her shop. She edged away from the counter. Maybe she could make a run for the back door. But, that would leave poor Evie with Macho Man and Testosterone Pal and the Death Starr to deal with. That would be a rotten thing to do, especially to a friend. Besides, she was pretty sure Brand would catch her before she got out the door.

      “Well, well, w-e-l-l, and who is this?” Meredith propped her manicured hands on her size two hips and eyed the men with appreciation. “It’s a little early for Halloween, but I like it. Shiver me timbers, me buck-os.”

      “They’re not pirates, Meredith. They’re warriors,” Addy said. “The big sword and the bow and arrows ought to be your first clue.”

      “The only sword I see is the one Tall, Dark, and Sinful is carrying in his pants. Impressive,” Meredith purred. She turned her attention to Ansgar, her gaze lingering on his crotch. “Ooh, his friend is packing heat, too.” She gave a fake shiver. “Delicious.”

      What was up? Couldn’t Meredith see the great big sword Brand carried or Ansgar’s longbow and arrows? Evie didn’t seem to see them, either. How strange.

      “So, what brings you boys to town?” Meredith said, oozing femininity with all the poisonous charm of a cobra.

      Back in high school, Meredith was Miss Everything. Prom queen, homecoming queen, head cheerleader, emphasis on the head. After high school, she got her hooks into Trey. Marrying into a socially prominent family landed her front and center in the Hannah social scene. Meredith thrived on attention. She demanded attention, particularly from males. But Brand and Ansgar, bless them all to pieces, ignored her. The Death Starr! Nobody ignored the Death Starr. The expression of disbelief and outrage on Meredith’s face was priceless. It made Addy feel warm inside.

      Until Brand glared at her, that is, and the warm fuzzies turned into the cold willies.

      “Adara, I must speak with you,” he said.

      Well, actually, he growled.

      Meredith grew visibly more peevish by the second. “Who are these men, Addy?”

      Addy thought quickly. “Actors, from the medieval dinner theater in Orlando.”

      “What are they doing in Hannah?”

      “They’re—uh—here for the Farris funeral.”

      “Hmm.” Meredith tapped one dainty little foot. “Long-lost relatives?”

      “That’s right.” Addy smiled with relief. The Death Starr seemed to buy her story, thank God. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad liar, after all.

      Meredith cocked her head like an inquisitive sparrow. “Just blew into town?”

      “Uh huh.”

      “If they just got here and they’re so long lost, how come you know so much about them?” the Death Starr asked sweetly, going in for the kill.

      Addy gaped at Meredith. “Uh . . . well, um, you see . . .”

      And that was it. Her brain shut down and went on vacation. For the life of her, she could not think of a single intelligent thing to say. Or a not so intelligent thing to say. She was screwed, glued, and tattooed. She was the planet Alderaan, and she was toast. Score one for the Death Starr.

      Evie stepped forward, bravely drawing the Death Starr’s fire. “Her mother told her. She called Addy this morning and told her to expect them. They have to rush back to the theater right after the funeral, which is why they’re dressed so funny. They’ve each ordered a spray for the funeral, which I think is awfully sweet. The large sprays, too, not the dinky ones like—” Evie faltered, but Addy knew what she’d been about to say. Like the dinky ones you ordered for your father’s funeral, Meredith. From the expression on Meredith’s face, she knew it, too. Addy saw Evie dart a nervous glance at Ansgar, and away again before continuing. “N-nothing but roses and white lilies. There won’t be a single white rose