“Soon as I determine you don’t have nefarious plans to take my sister out or force her to be your sex slave.”
Beckett guffaws as I shriek, “Clementine!”
“I assure you, she’s safe.”
In a different situation, I could get lost in his voice. The clarity. The robustness. The confidence.
“Oh, well if you assure me she’s safe, I’m totes reassured. How do I know she’s even where she says she is?”
“Check my location,” I mutter.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” There’s rustling over the line. “Hmm. Winterberry Junction, south of Lake Champlain. At least he wasn’t lying about that.”
“Can I ask my question yet?”
“I suppose,” comes Clem’s snarky response.
My eyes roll again. At least this conversation has distracted me from the eyesore that is Main Street. How long is this damn street? Exactly how many lights do they use to illuminate it so brightly?
I shake my head to ward off any more wayward thoughts.
“What’s your sister got against Christmas lights?”
I choke on my saliva. How dare he?
“Um, that answer would require a full dissertation. Is she freaked about them?”
“Totes. Like they’re the ones trying to bring death upon her.”
I swat his arm, my hand hitting a solid mass.Damn.
“Ha. That’s a good one. You’re kinda funny, Beckett. Can I call you Beckett?”
“Sure, seeing as it’s my name.”
After what seems like forever, he directs the car left, and the luminescence fades from view.Thank goodness.Thought I might start seizing with all the flashing.
“So what’s the plan with Willa? ‘Cause I got some kids here that I can’t leave until their father gets home, and I’m not sure how long that will be. And then it’s a solid twelve hours or more to get to this Winterberry Junction from North Carolina. Even if I could get a flight, not sure it would be much faster.”
“And definitely longer with the storm,” he butts in. It’s yet to be determined whether it’s helpful.
“Right. Good point. Forgot about the snow.”
“I’m going to get her set up in my cabin?—”
Clem cuts him off. “Tell me you’re not taking her to a cabin in the woods. Because I might have to find a way to get up there sooner.”
“It’s on the edge of the woods, does that make it better?” It’s not really a question, but for Clem’s sake, he makes it one.
“Where’s the nearest house?”
“There are two cabins on the road, so directly across the street.”
“And who lives in the other one?”
“My neighbor.”
I crack a laugh. “Good one.” Though it’s probably not funny or wise to encourage this behavior. But I’ve relaxed more since he’s been driving. Call me naive, but I think I’m safe.
