Just Right

Prologue — Goldyn Ambrose

JUNE

I was lost.

That much I knew for sure.

Yet, I didn’t know how to undo that fact. Hiking to the lake to celebrate summer solstice seemed like a good idea. At first .

I sat by the water, wrote down my manifestations for the new season, and got lost in a comfort read while the sun kissed my skin.

But then it came time for me to walk back, and I realized all that precious battery power I’d used to reread Glory for the third time had completely depleted my phone down to one percent.

Fuck. Was that my payback for obsessing over a fictional triad every chance I got? If I was wrong for envying Glory for having two boyfriends who were also boyfriends, then I didn’t want to be right. I knew that kind of thing only happened in books, but it was my comfort read anyway.

And that comfort read had left me with a completely black screen five minutes into my trek back to the main road.

I couldn’t say that I’d ever been good with directions. I relied way too heavily on technology to navigate spaces, even the spaces I should have been familiar with by now.

After living in Bliss Peak for the past year, I’d made this journey countless times. And yet, I still needed assistance on getting back to the paved trail that led to the public entrance.

Letting my head fall back, I stared up at the canopy of trees above me and squinted at the sun. That was a good sign. If the sun was still high enough to peek through the trees, I had time. Surely, I could figure a way out of these woods before nightfall.

I held firm to that hope until I passed the same tree three times and realized I was walking in circles. How that was even possible in the woods was beyond me, but I was kinda good at pulling off the impossible. And I knew it was the same tree because I’d left a red Sharpie at the foot of it after the second trip to make sure I wasn’t losing my mind.

I mean, I was kinda losing my mind, but not to the extent that I didn’t realize I was going in circles.

“Damn it, if I brought my Kindle instead of reading on my phone, I wouldn’t be having this problem.” Except the reason I didn’t bring my Kindle was because I forgot to charge it last night.

This little predicament was the result of a domino effect of bad decisions, and there was really no need obsessing over things I couldn’t change now.

Fragrant pine trees surrounded me on every side, and each possible path looked identical to the one adjacent.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, I stood in place for a few beats and decided to go straight. No more turns, because apparently I didn’t know this place by memory like I tried to trick myself into believing.

If I went straight, I would either end up deeper in the woods or back where I needed to be. Enough daylight remained for me to feel good about my odds.

So, I left my Sharpie right where it was and walked straight.

What felt like an hour passed before the rustle of pine needles under my sandals gradually faded, replaced by the crunch of gravel. The paved trail was nowhere in sight, but the winding path in front of me intrigued me enough to keep walking in that direction.

It only took me a few seconds to realize I was on the opposite side of the lake than where I usually ventured. The side with the lake house I could only admire across the water. It always looked like a black speck from my vantage point, but now that I was up close and personal, I realized just how wrong my expectations were for the “quaint little cottage” I imagined.

There was nothing quaint or cottage-like about this house. It was sprawling and beautifully modern with black siding, and enough square footage to house at least three large families comfortably.

For a while, I stood there with my jaw unhinged as I took it all in.

The rocky path morphed into their driveway where I found an old Bronco and matte black G-Wagon.

Hope ballooned in my chest.

“Somebody’s home,” I said to myself as I walked up to the front door.

Large, open windows spanned the house and not a single one of them was covered.

“Why don’t rich people like curtains?” I asked no one as I drew closer to the house.

Decidedly, it was none of my business as long as the rich people in question were generous enough to let me charge my phone.

My stomach chose that exact moment to rumble and I placed a hand over it, trying to quiet the sound before I raised my other hand to knock on the front door.

Maybe they could spare a snack or two while my phone charged.

I stood there, knocking so long my knuckles ached. But nothing happened. Nobody came to the door and no one yelled from the other side to tell me to get the hell on either.

One glance down and I saw the bane of my existence—a digital keypad instead of a lock. I couldn’t put my lock picking skills to use on it.

The rational thing to do would be to get the hell on . But there was nothing rational left in my brain after the last few hours I’d endured.

As it turned out, my sore ankles, rumbling stomach, and sweat slicked skin didn’t know what rational was.

Add in my sudden urge to pee and I was fresh out of decorum. I needed relief. From...everything.

At the very least, I needed a bathroom break and a place to charge my phone.

At most, I needed a meal and a little air conditioning to cool off before I braved the walk back to the other side of the lake. Because now that I knew where I was, I kinda— sorta —knew how to get back.

Fighting the urge to squirm, I made it to the back of the house and my jaw dropped yet again. The whole deck was raised, leaving enough space under it for a boat, two kayaks and a bunch of other stuff I didn’t have time to identify.

After climbing the stairs, I was greeted with another keypad instead of a lock and resisted the urge to scream. Instead, I pressed my nose against the window closest to the back door and sighed when I didn’t see any signs of life.

Until now, I thought someone might have been inside and they were just ignoring me, but now that I could see no-one was home, I did what I had to do.

Do you know how hard it is to break into a house when your bladder is trying to embarrass you? It was the most humbling thing I’d done in a while. And when I got in through the broken window, I couldn’t even marvel at the beautiful kitchen. All I could focus on was the small miracle of me not cutting myself on any stray glass in the process.

Then I ran straight for the hall in search of a bathroom. Luckily, the second door I flung open was a half bath.

A stunning forest view greeted me as I relieved myself, and I almost got lost in how magical it was.

As I washed my hands, my eyes traced over the raised stone covering the wall in front of me and the warm lighting provided by the two fixtures on either side of the mirror.

In a word, it was…perfect. If the spare bathroom looked like this, then what about the rest of the house?

As I trekked back to the kitchen, I pulled my phone and charger out of my crossbody bag and plugged it into the first outlet I saw.

Then I spun in a slow circle, admiring the double height ceiling and the panoramic views of the lake and forest.

Breathtaking. Everything was so tastefully extravagant. And somehow, warm and inviting at the same time.

A massive staircase separated the living and kitchen areas. It was lit by sconces that explained the soft, amber light illuminating the tall windows when I walked up. A familiar, woodsy scent permeated the air, adding another layer of cozy, rustic charm.

It always amazed me to see how other people lived.

Whoever owned this home had it made. This house was the epitome of postcard material.

And I couldn’t help the guilt gnawing at me now that my bladder was relieved and a sliver of rationality crept back to the surface.

I’d broken into someone’s house.

Eyes darting to the center island, I bit my lip at the red battery sign flashing on my phone screen.

It was still too soon to leave.

But the second I could leave, I would.

Right after I wrote a note apologizing for the window.

My stomach filled the silence of the home with another obnoxious growl. One that was harder to ignore now that I’d taken care of my other needs.

Okay, I’d write a note for the window and the food I was about to eat.

One turkey sandwich turned into two. And I needed a side with those sandwiches, so I devoured an entire bag of SunChips. Then I washed it down with the best iced tea I’d ever had. I was sure I could taste lavender and lemon on my tongue. It had no business being as refreshing as it was, and after the hours I’d spent walking through the woods, I was thirstier than I thought. It wasn’t until I was done with my second full glass that I realized I’d put a nice dent in the pitcher.

The least I could do after my ungraceful binge was clean up after myself.

I washed the plate and utensils I used, content to grab my phone and get on about my evening. But then a glass dish on the far-end of the butcher-block counter caught my eye.

Cookies.

Just like that, my mouth watered at the thought of something sweet .

Walking over to the dish, I peered down at the dessert, content to just look and not touch. But then I noticed what kind they were.

Blueberry cookies?

And—oh my god—they tasted really good. So good I ate two of them without thinking and fully tipped myself over the edge from satisfied to full as a tick.

A drowsiness set in when I replaced the lid on the glass dish and it was all I could do to make it to the couch without tripping over my feet.

I grabbed my phone along the way and went through the motions of setting a fifteen-minute timer.

I’d rest my eyes for fifteen minutes and then I’d be out of these people’s house. Long before they ever got home.

That was the plan. A cat nap and then get the hell out of dodge.

Except, I slept right through that alarm and the next time I opened my eyes it was because of the cold press of metal against my forehead.