Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder (Happily Ever Homicide, #1)

by Gracie Ruth Mitchell

Do you know how much chips and guac I could buy with several thousand dollars?

I silently thank the inventor of flannel pajama pants and white t-shirts for his or her impeccable service to our nation before tearing my eyes away. I think Aiden probably would not appreciate being stared at.

“You walk around looking like someone who’s just checked the weather and discovered it’s supposed to rain for the next week.” “I love the rain,” he says blankly. Of course he loves the rain.

She stands up while I lie face down in the middle of the floor, re-evaluating all my life choices.

And there’s a little bit of darkness in all of us. I’m convinced that’s true. We couldn’t shine so brightly as human beings if we never knew the shadows.

And look—I’m only going to say this once. No man has a right to look that good in sweatpants and a t-shirt, okay? When I lounge on the couch, I look like a sloppy starfish. Spread eagle, inelegant, unladylike bordering on indecent. I become part of that couch. But Aiden just looks like he’s modeling for any number of companies. The sweatpants industry could use him for sure, as could the publishing industry, and the furniture industry may as well just hire him now and then keep him on retainer.

“I’ve always been told it’s a handsome one.” “It is,” I admit. Then I grin. “Why do you think my seventeen-year-old self tried to kiss you?” Aiden snorts. “Cut it out. Don’t flirt with me, Juniper Bean.” “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, still smiling.

Sincerity is always attractive. You know what else is always attractive? Aiden. Ugh.

Yup this is where I fell in love with this duo 🤣

When it finally feels safe to look at her, she’s seated with her legs tucked to the side, flipping through the yearbook with deft fingers. There’s a little crease in her forehead, just above her eyebrows, and her eyes are narrowed slightly. She’s in concentration mode.

“Who’s Sandy? Is she a bad student or something?” “No,” Betty One says dismissively after an awkward pause. “Her grades are fine. But she’s a stuck-up little rich girl, a beauty queen type. A complete snob.” So…kind of like Betty One. I do not say this.

I don’t know that a quiet life is in the cards for Juniper Bean. She is the stone in the stream that the water must rush around. And those people, whether they want to be or not, are history-makers. Any time your presence causes people to change, you’re making history. Sometimes small history, sometimes grand—always worth paying attention to.

If someone went fishing for a Juniper fish, all they’d need is a bag of chips and a big tub of fresh guac.

She can direct all of her anger at me, and I’ll take it gladly. She can give me all of everything, all the bad and the good and the dark and the light, and I’ll take them all and keep them all and cherish them all—all the parts of this woman whose life has been entwined with mine since we were children.

It’s just that my first instinct when it comes to this woman is to hide, because there’s so much about her that scares me. She has a mind that I want to unfold, a heart that I want to keep safe, a fiery streak that I want to be burned by. I want to follow her around, just to see what she does and what she says. I care about those things. And caring…it’s scary.

“I have to admit,” Aiden says, frowning at the dash, “I’m surprised this car made it all the way up that hill.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s trying her best.” He snorts. “An admirable effort.”