The Sweetheart Secret Read Online Free PDF Page B

you’re living in a fairy tale. Nothing is ever perfect.” Emma’s voice held low, sad notes. “Not one place, not one person.”
    â€œEmma—”
    â€œI can’t do this. I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I . . . I just can’t.”
    The connection ended, leaving Daisy with silence. She stared up at the inn, seeing the bright, cheery building that had once housed two girls on the brink of being women, two girls who had believed in fairy tales and princes on white horses. The inn held a special magic, Daisy had always believed, and if she could restore it to its former glory, maybe Emma would find that magic again, too.
    That meant Daisy needed that loan. And if the money wasn’t going to come to her, she was going to go get it. No matter what it took. Or who it meant asking.

Three

    â€œYou . . . are gonna . . . kill yourself. Or . . . me.” Nick Patterson bent at the waist and heaved in a few deep breaths. Sweat poured from his brow, plastered his faded gray T-shirt to his chest. “Jesus, Colt, what’s . . . with you . . . today?”
    â€œNothing.” Colt stepped back, aimed his shot, and let the ball fly toward the netless hoop. It missed its target, pinging off the battered orange rim and bouncing outside the chalked foul line. Colt’s concentration had been zero all day, ever since Daisy came storming into his office, disrupting his life. He’d hoped a few rounds of hoops with Nick would ease this tension in his gut, but so far, the frustrating game was having the opposite effect. “Damn it.”
    Nick jerked to the right, grabbed the ball on a rebound, but didn’t shoot. His childhood friend stood a few inches taller than Colt. On the court, Nick had the height advantage, but most days, Colt moved faster, which made for nicely competitive games. On the days when Colt’s mind was on basketball, that was.
    â€œNothing’s wrong? Bullshit.” Nick tucked the ball under one arm. “Is it your grandpa again? My grandpa’s been asking about Earl. Said something about missing him at the card games lately.”
    â€œIt’s not my grandpa.” Colt put out his hand. “Just throw me the ball, Nick.”
    â€œI will when you tell me why you are turning a friendly game of one-on-one into a death match.”
    Colt swiped off the sweat beading on his forehead, then crossed to the sidelines and grabbed a bottle of water out of the cooler. He twisted off the top, handed it to Nick, and grabbed a second for himself. The two men sat on the old, faded bench and faced the pockmarked basketball court that had long ago been forgotten by Rescue Bay’s teenagers.
    He and Nick had been coming to this court for twenty-plus years, to shoot a few hoops and talk, in the way that guys talked—between beers and points. Of all the people in Rescue Bay, Nick was the only one who had known Colt all his life. They’d suffered through the same parochial school in a nearby town, lived on the same block, and fished the same lake with their grandfathers. And when Colt had needed a friend, needed someone who wouldn’t judge him or condemn him—
    Nick had been there.
    Colt took a long swig of water and waited for the cool liquid to slide down his throat. “It’s Daisy.”
    The water bottle popped out of Nick’s mouth. “Daisy? As in . . .
Daisy
? Holy shit. Now there’s a blast from the past.”
    â€œAnd apparently a blast into the present, too. She’s in town. I found out when she came roaring into my office earlier today when I was with a patient. Pissed off as all hell, and ready to rip me a new one.”
    Nick chuckled. “Sounds like your entire marriage. As short-lived as it was.”
    Colt snorted and took another swig of water. “You can say that again.”
    â€œWell, that sure as hell explains why you’re