He winks. Fucking winks again at my warning.
“That tan line will fade. And if you’re still here looking for a good time, I’ll be here, holding my red flag.” He starts to turn away. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”
Sighing, I rest my head against the back of my seat, unabashedly watching his ass swagger away back to the cruiser in my side view mirror.
If this were any other time, and any other version of myself, just a regular twenty-four year old coming to visit her bestie, I’d be climbing that man like Mt. Everest. And having the fucking time of my life.
But I’m this version of me. In this time. And this version is broken.
“In four hundred feet, turn left onto Pine Street,” my GPS commands, and I do as it says. “Your destination is in eight-hundred feet on the right.”
Looking ahead, I see one driveway boasting a sign on a pine tree that shows the number nine.
Turning right, I’m led down a driveway that opens to a massive, and gorgeous, log cabin. Just when I think I might have the wrong address, I see Aubrey’s car.
Rolling down my window, I park next to her. “Oh my God. This is my place?”
“Oh. Sorry. No. But your place is down a bit, and I didn’t want to go down there and have you miss my car. It’s not really going to show up on the GPS. That’ll just take you here. Wyatt lives here. Your landlord.”
“Well shit. That makes a lot more sense.” I look ahead and see his backyard that’s all open to a view of the water, and it makes me sad I won’t get this view. “Where am I then?”
She points to the right of the dream cabin, where there’s a small dirt road. “Down here. You can see the front porch.”
Looking, I take in the tiny version of the dream cabin. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Wyatt will let you enjoy his backyard with a view.”
A smile graces my lips for her. “His wife won’t mind?”
“Wife?” She laughs. “That’s not really his style. Maybe a tourist here and there, but definitely not a wife, or a girlfriend.” She hops into my passenger seat. “Come on. Let’s go get this truck unloaded. I have some stuff for you that Ryder shipped.”
Putting my truck in reverse, I drive straight back until my taillights nearly touch the porch of the tiny home. Aubrey hops out, pulling a key from her pocket.
“No one usually locks up here, but I didn’t want to chance anything, so I had Wyatt lock up after it was cleaned and give me the key.” She hands it over to me, letting the cool metal drop into my palm.
Standing frozen in my spot, letting the coolness seep into my body, it feels heavier than just a key.
“Sophia Chiave is dead,” I say flatly.
“But Sophia Black is one badass survivor with a whole new empty slate in front of her.” She hugs me from the side and doesn’t let go until I slip the key in the lock, pushing open the door.
Taking in the small interior, I’m actually shocked at how nice the space is. For such a cramped space, it feels airy and open. The sliding glass door lets in enough natural light that it doesn’t feel like a broom closet.
Tires coming down the dirt road, snapping sticks on their way, echo from behind us.
Aubrey leans back, peeking out. “Oh good! Wyatt is here.”
She retreats back toward my car, rounding the front where Wyatt parked.
And when I follow, I’m met with a familiar sight.
Officer Keaton.
Fuck,I mutter to myself as I turn down toward the cabins.
A familiar Tahoe sits in front of the newly-rented tiny home.
Sliding out of my cruiser, Aubrey comes around to greet me. The woman I pulled over earlier isn’t anywhere I can see yet. The excitement that I felt earlier about a new tourist that looks the way she does is fully gone now. Knowing she’s Aubrey’s best friend, and that she wasn’t lying about her situation, makes her one hundred percent off limits.
Aubrey didn’t go into too much detail with me, but I can read between the lines to get the gist of her situation.
