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“You and me both,” I say with a sigh.
While I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to spend more time with my dad, I’m lonely in Mercury Ridge. I have no friends, and certainly no romantic prospects. When I’d first seen Hunter leaving his house for work a few days ago, I’d had high hopes. And not just because he’s drop-dead gorgeous. When our eyes met, his face had split into a wide smile. The smile had seemed genuine and friendly. Inviting, and oh, so tempting.
But I’ve never been great at seeing things clearly. As a child, I nearly stepped on a venomous snake on a hiking trip, mistaking it for a twig. Shortly after that, I got my first pair of glasses. They were hideous Coke bottle glasses that made me look like a frog, but I didn’t mind—because for the first time, I could see. I became obsessed with glasses after that, and to this day, I love selecting a new pair. And I’ve made it my career to help others find the perfect solutions for their vision issues.
But if life has taught me anything, it’s that no matter how good your prescription is, you can’t see into the heart and soul of a person. So often, I’ve gotten it wrong and trusted the wrong people. It’s a hereditary trait, I think, passed down through my mother. She’s had a revolving door of suitors my whole life.
At least I hadn’t let Hunter into my heart yet. As disappointed as I am over one shared smile, things could have been so much worse.
“It’s fine,” I tell my cat. “Hunter’s just a stupid boy in a stupid town. I’m over it. Besides, cats are one hundred percent better than people.”
Simba meows in agreement.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel myself dry, slip into an oversized t-shirt, and comb my hair. A wave of exhaustion washes over me. When I fall into bed, Simba is already there waiting. He purrs softly, lulling me to sleep.
And I sleep soundly until the piercing sound of the smoke detector wakes me up.
Chapter 6
Hunter
After my brothers leave, I spend half the night pacing back and forth across the living room floor. I’d attempted to get some sleep, but I couldn’t get Avery George out of my head.
Her reaction today was entirely unfair. How was I supposed to know that her father’s house wasn’t part of the HOA? He’d never objected to the rules. He’d even come to a meeting once or twice. Even Betty Lou had assumed he was a member, and she tends to be on top of things.
I glance out the window across the street. Avery’s lights are out. She’s probably sleeping like a baby, snug as a bug in a rug. I bet she hasn’t given a moment’s thought to our argument.
A flash of light catches my eye. It’s a red blinking light, like the one on some smoke detectors. I lean forward for a closer look. Something’s not right.
Dialing the fire station’s direct line as I sprint across the street, I relay the address to the dispatcher. I can hear the persistent cry of the alarm now that I’m closer to the house. “The smoke detector is going off,” I tell the dispatcher. “Send a team ASAP.”
Pounding on the door, I shout Avery’s name. My heart thunders in my chest. She’s not mine, and probably never will be, but at this moment, it doesn’t matter. Something inside me screams that she must be protected at all costs—even at the cost of my own health or sanity.
“Avery,” I shout again, peering through a window. There’s no sign of her or the big, orange cat.
Frantically, I kick a brick loose from her flowerbed. I use it to smash a window, getting rid of as many jagged shards as possible before I climb through it and into the living room.
“Avery,” I shout, “where are you?”
The smoke detector continues to blare, echoing through the home and covering my shouts. If she’s yelling for help, would I even hear her?
I see no signs of fire, and there’s no smell of smoke. I make my way through the house as quickly as possible, checking closed doors for heat with the back of my hand before opening them. I hate not knowing where the fire is. I prefer to tackle fires that are out in the open, raging viciously as they destroy whatever’s in their path. But some fires are sneaky, licking through the walls as quietly as a stalker, every bit as dangerous and deadly.
I reach the master bedroom and flick on the light. Fortunately, the electricity still works. Avery’s lying face down on the floor.
“Avery!” My voice cracks with emotion as I scramble onto my hands and knees. “Are you hurt?”
She turns her head to look at me with wide eyes. “Hunter? Is it you? I’ve dropped my glasses.”
“Leave them,” I order. “When you hear a fire alarm, you get out of the house!”
She shakes her head. “Not without Simba. And I can’t find him without my glasses.”
I’m tempted to scoop her into my arms, run from the house, and get her to safety immediately. But there are no signs of fire yet, and she’d never forgive me if we left the cat to fend for himself.
Sighing, I join her in the quest to find her glasses. I spot them near the foot of the bed. I hand them to her, and she slides them onto her face.
“Any idea where Simba’s hiding?” I ask.
