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Before I can say something that I’ll undoubtedly regret, Betty Lou regains control of the room. “The HOA doesn’t have rules about clothing.”
Thank you, Jesus. My mind drifts to the memory of Avery with her butt in the air as she dug her fingers into the soil. A second later, my imagination has moved her from her front yard to my king-sized bed. I tune out the meeting, daydreaming about the things I’d like to do to her until someone elbows me in the side.
I look up to see everyone is staring at me again. “Sorry,” I mutter, “I just worked a twenty-four-hour shift. I’m dead on my feet.”
Betty Lou’s mouth stretches into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “That’s okay, Hunter. We’ve just appointed you to address the matter of the unapproved addition to the George residence. Please tell Ms. George that it must come down immediately.”
I stare at her, confused. I have no idea what she’s talking about. I open my mouth to argue, but she smacks her gavel—yes, she brings an actual gavel to HOA meetings—onto the podium and declares the meeting adjourned.
Chapter 2
Avery
“Ready for some cardio, Simba,” I ask my big, orange, tabby cat before bending down to kiss him on the forehead. He’s perched on the arm of the sofa with all four limbs tucked beneath his body. “You look like a loaf of bread, silly kitty.”
He lifts his head, blinks slowly, yawns, and closes his eyes again.
I shrug. “Suit yourself.”
As I walk to the kitchen, I scroll through my Spotify playlists until I find the one labeled Dishwasher Dance Jams. I snap open the dishwasher and remove a clean plate just as the opening notes of Lady Gaga’s Just Dance start to play. Swishing my hips back and forth, I open the cabinets with a flourish and stack the dishes to the beat of the music.
I’ve never been athletic, but I love to dance. I’m not any better at dancing than I am at, say, softball, but there are no witnesses in my kitchen. Unless, of course, Simba deigns to grace me with his presence—and if I pet him softly and give him treats, he doesn’t judge.
The music is interrupted by the shrill trill of an incoming call. My good mood vanishes in an instant, replaced with worry and trepidation. Since my father’s heart attack, I’ve been plagued with an impending sense of doom. His nurses at the assisted living facility assure me he’s no longer at death’s door, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m going to lose him. It’s a strange feeling and one that I can’t explain.
Dad and I have never had a close relationship. My parents only dated for three months before calling it quits. Mom moved back to Frosty Crest, Colorado several months before I was born, and I’ve lived in the Centennial State ever since. When I was a kid, Dad took me to Disney World for a week every summer. But the vacations stopped when I graduated from high school. I was too busy being an adult, doing adult things. Now, I may be out of time.
I glance at the phone, and my heart stutters in my chest. My father’s name is on the screen. In the span of a heartbeat, I run through all the worst-case scenarios. He’s had another heart attack. He’s in surgery. He’s dead. Then it occurs to me that if any of that were true, the call wouldn’t be coming from his direct line. He’s calling me. Not a doctor, or nurse, or administrator.
I tap the screen and place the phone against my ear. “Hello?”
“How’s your day, kiddo?” Dad asks. He sounds good today. Stronger than yesterday.
I breathe a sigh of relief. “Not bad. I’ve been looking into what it’ll take to be a licensed optician in North Carolina. I meet all of the qualifications, so it shouldn’t be that difficult.”
“You don’t have to worry about working while you’re in Mercury Ridge,” Dad assures me. “I really appreciate you flying out here to help me sell the house. I’m happy to cover all of your expenses and will pay you for your time.”
My mouth is suddenly dry. I bite my tongue to form enough saliva to speak. “Actually, Dad, I was thinking I may stay in Mercury Ridge for a while.”
“Is something wrong in Colorado?”
“Not at all. I just like it here more than I thought I would.” It happens to be true, but the beauty of the Appalachian Mountains isn’t what’s keeping me here. It’s not even the hot firefighter across the street. Though that’s definitely a bonus.
“Still coming to visit me for dinner tomorrow?” Is that hope in his voice? “Word on the street is that they’re serving spaghetti and meatballs.”
I smile. “Will there be garlic bread?”
“There’d better be, or they’ll have a riot on their hands.”
I laugh at the image of my dad and the rest of the elderly residents rioting. “Behave, Dad. When I get there tomorrow, I don’t want to find out you’ve been hauled to jail.”
Simba rubs against my ankles as I end the call. I scoop him into my arms and cradle him like a baby. “Think you can handle staying in Mercury Ridge for a while?”
He meows, stretching out his paw to touch my face. It’s a good enough answer for me.
Chapter 3
Hunter
