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“How do you know?” She looks around. “All I see is a forest.”
I smile. “Then why would you ask if we’re there yet?”
She shrugs.
“Our destination happens to be in the forest,” I say. “At least according to this special app I used on my phone.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
My smile widens. “I wasn’t sure how you felt about hikes. Figured I’d better tell you once we’re almost there.”
She sighs theatrically. “If I had known about the hike, I would’ve brought different shoes.”
“Hmm.” I sneak a glance at her sneakers. “I think those should be fine. We can toss them into the washer after.”
She scans rows and rows of trees passing by. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and there’ll be a road leading to our destination?”
“If not a road, then maybe a trail, created by, say, a family of helpful bears.”
“A hike and bears,” she says. “Thanks for that.”
We drive another twenty minutes until I declare a small clearing by the road to be a good parking spot.
“There is no road, is there?” Brooklyn asks. “Or even a bear trail.”
I shake my head.
She gestures at a nearby private property sign. “Are we going to be trespassing during our hike?”
I face her. “If you want to go back, I understand.”
“No.” She sits straighter. “I’m seeing this thing through.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooklyn
As it turns out, hiking in a Florida forest is as fun as working as a whipping boy (or girl), a leech collector (someone had to get them for the medieval doctors, right?), or a tax auditor. Thus far, I’ve walked into twenty spiderwebs and been hit by seven branches. All this has happened despite the fact that Evan has done the gentlemanly thing and taken the lead, and is therefore taking the brunt of these attacks onto himself.
And did I mention the humid heat? Or the horse-sized mosquitoes? Or the wild boar skeleton I almost stepped on? Or how Evan has saved my life four times now, catching me when I slipped? Or the blister forming on my right foot?
To put it another way: I should’ve given up when Evan gave me the chance by the car, but now we’re too far into the hike for me to bail.
In my defense, the idea of a hike sounded kind of romantic. But I should’ve reminded myself that doing anything involving Evan sounds romantic, so why not do something while surrounded by civilization?
“I think that’s it.” Evan gestures at something dark in the distance.
At first, I think it’s a big tree, but when we get a little closer, I realize it’s a house—or a forest hut as they’re probably called. No, this is a cabin… in the woods, a.k.a. the most common horror movie setting.
“Are you sure we should go in there?” I whisper. “We’re trespassing already.”
Evan glances at me. “You want to turn back?”
I slap at something trying to bite the back of my hand. “What are the chances your grandfather put the treasure in a serial killer’s lair?”
How does Evan manage to raise his eyebrow in such a sexy manner? “Why a serial killer?”
I shrug. “I saw a special recently, and they said a lot of serial killers were native Floridians. Ted Bundy, Aileen Wuornos, David?—”
