Hidden Riches Read Online Free PDF Page B

the clutter she constantly surrounded herself with. They had grown up in chaos, with every day dawning with a new drama or comedy. For Lea, the only way to remain sane as an adult was structure. “I really could come in tomorrow.”
    “No. It’s your day off, and I’m counting on scarfing down my share of those cookies you’ll be baking.” As she herded her family toward the door, Dora slipped a pound bag of M&M’s to her niece. “Share,” she ordered under her breath. “And don’t tell your mom where you got them.” She ruffled Richie’s hair. “Scram, creep.”
    He grinned, showing the wide gap of his missing two front teeth. “Burglars might come tonight and rob you blind.” Reaching out, he toyed with the long dangle of citrine and amethyst that swung at her ear. “If I spent the night, I’d shoot them for you.”
    “Why, thank you, Richie,” Dora said in serious tones. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that. But I’ll just have to shoot my own burglars tonight.” She nudged her family outside, then began to lock up immediately, knowing that Lea would wait until she had turned every lock and engaged the security alarm.
    Alone, she turned and took a deep breath. There was the scent of apple and pine from the potpourri set all around the shop. It was good to be home, she thought, and lifted the box that contained the new acquisitions she’d decided to take to her apartment upstairs.
    She moved through the storeroom to unlock the door that led to the inside stairway. She had to juggle the box, her purse and her overnight bag, as well as the coat she’d stripped off on entering the shop. Muttering to herself, shemanaged to hit the light switch in the stairway with her shoulder.
    She was halfway down the hall when she saw the light spilling out of the neighboring apartment. The new tenant. Shifting her grip, she walked to the door that was braced open with a box and peered in.
    She saw him standing by an old table, a bottle in one hand, a glass in the other. The room itself was sparsely furnished with a sofa and an overstuffed chair.
    But she was more interested in the man who stood in profile to her and downed a long swallow of whiskey.
    He was tall with a tough, athletic build that made her think of a boxer. He wore a navy sweatshirt with sleeves pushed up to the elbows—no visible tattoos—and Levis worn white at the stress points. His hair was a bit unkempt, falling carelessly over his collar in a rich shade of ripening wheat.
    In contrast, the watch at his wrist was either an amazingly good knockoff, or a genuine Rolex.
    Though her appraisal took only seconds, Dora sensed her neighbor was not celebrating his new home. His face, shadowed by the high slash of cheekbones and the stubble of a beard, seemed grim.
    Before she had made a sound, she saw his body tense. His head whipped around. Dora found herself fighting the instinct to step back in defense as he pinned her with eyes that were hard, expressionless and shockingly blue.
    “Your door was open,” she said apologetically, and was immediately annoyed that she’d excused herself from standing in her own hallway.
    “Yeah.” He set the bottle down, carrying the glass with him as he crossed to her. Jed took his own survey. Most of her body was obscured by the large cardboard box she carried. A pretty oval face, slightly pointed at the chin, with an old-fashioned roses-and-cream complexion, a wide, unpainted mouth that was just curving up in a smile, bigbrown eyes that were filled with friendly curiosity, a swing of sable-colored hair.
    “I’m Dora,” she explained when he only continued to stare. “From across the hall? Need any help getting organized?”
    “No.” Jed booted the box away with his foot and closed the door in her face.
    Her mouth fell open before she deliberately snapped it shut. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” she muttered as she turned away to her own door. After an initial fumble for her keys, she