Chapter 10
By the time Binx fetches the camper from Matty, and Wes and I finish gathering his camping supplies from the garage and swing by my place to grab clothes and Freya’s things, the horizon is smudged a rosy gray.
It’s still mostly dark…but light enough to see the giant brown smear on my door all the way from the street.
“Stay in the camper,” Wes says, putting a hand on mine when I reach for my seatbelt.
And yes, the brush of his fingers across my skin is enough to make my entire body tingle—even after a night like this one, even when I’m so tired I can barely see straight. Which means this road trip is an even worse idea than I thought it was when we concocted this hair-brained scheme.
But is that going to stop me from leaving town with him?
No.
No, it will not.
Partly because I’m legitimately terrified of what Daria might do and think giving her time to cool down is a solid idea, but mostly because I just…want to. I want to run away with this man and leave all my problems behind.
Weakness, thy name is Tessa…
I am weak, but I’m also practical and adept at making the best of a bad situation. If I’m going to be stuck in a tightly enclosed camper with this man for a week, why shouldn’t I enjoy it? As long as I remember the situation has an expiration date, a week of longer hikes and longer nights could be just what the doctor ordered.
I’ll get all my lust for the wrong guy out of my system and return home ready to retire from romance and live peacefully ever after with my ferret.
Assuming, of course, that we make it out of town alive.
“No, I’m coming with you,” I say, shifting my hand beneath his and pressing the release on my seatbelt. “You might need backup.”
He exhales. “All right. But if she has anyone with her, run right back here and call the police.”
My brows shoot up. “Who would she have with her?”
He shrugs. “She used to have a boyfriend. A very large, very dumb boyfriend. Chippy. Sweet guy, but not when Daria got him wound up. But he’s on probation for breaking a guy’s leg so he might be laying low.”
“He broke someone’s leg?” I squeak. “For Daria? What is she? A mob boss?”
“Not yet. But she’s tight with Cassie Ann Sweetwater’s granddaughters. Cassie Ann’s the one who ran the mob around here before she skipped town and her grandsons ended up in prison. Now her granddaughters host a book club on their compound every other Sunday for women interested in ‘badass reads and deeds.’ Daria used to go. Said it was…interesting.”
I hum beneath my breath. “It’s interesting that Daria knows how to read.”
Wes smiles. “I’m not sure she does. She only participated if the book had a movie version. And they spent most of the meetings talking about how badass it would be to rebuild the Sweetwater criminal empire from the ground up. Cassie Ann always favored the boys in the family, giving them the power and influence. Now that they’re all in prison, the girls want to see what they can do.”
I shake my head slowly back and forth. “Wow. And I thought my family was messed up.”
“All families are messed up, I think. At least a little.”
“Even the McGuires?”
“Even the McGuires,” he says, his voice softer. “My mom’s been so hard on Binx lately. For no reason, just because she marches to the beat of her own drum. My dad was the same way with Matty, when he was going through his…lost period.” He shrugs and shifts his focus, gazing out through the windshield. “I don’t know. I obviously don’t have kids, but if I did, I like to think I’d take a gentler approach. Let my wild kids follow their bliss and offer the struggling a safe place to land when they fall down.”
I study his profile, sadness tightening my ribs, even though I know we aren’t meant to be. “Are you looking forward to having kids someday?”
“Yeah. If I’m lucky enough to meet someone great and start a family, that would be…” He turns, sending a prickle of electricity shivering across my skin as his gaze locks with mine. “Amazing.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and turn to peer out the window again. I wonder if I’ll ever meet a man who doesn’t care about having kids. Surely, there have to be at least a few out there in the world, though they certainly aren’t hanging out in the rural Midwest.
But who cares? I’m going to be very busy with my ferret daughter, thank you very much. I wouldn’t have time for a baby even if I could have one and wanted to start my motherhood journey this late in life.
Shaking off the moment of melancholy, I ask, “So, is the brown smear what I think it is? And if so, what should I do about it? Blast it with the garden hose? Hire someone to replace the door? Burn the house down and start fresh somewhere with no poop on it?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll hire someone to clean it up after we’re on the road.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say.
“It’s not a big deal. Christian has a few guys down at his old bike shop that don’t mind a dirty job. And if they’re busy, Chris will find someone. He has connections everywhere.” He reaches for his door handle. “Just head in through the garage. I’ll take pictures of the door, so you have a record of the property damage, and be right in to help out.”
I glance over my shoulder, to where Freya is curled up on a bed of towels I made for her on the banquet table behind Matty’s seat. “It’s okay to leave her here, right? We won’t be gone long.”
“It’s fine,” Wes says. “Probably safer. If Daria’s around, we don’t want to give her another target.”
The hair lifting at the back of my neck, I whisper, “Do you really think she’s still here? We aren’t walking distance from town and there aren’t any strange cars around. All of the ones on the street belong to my neighbors and their kids. Where would she even be hiding?”
He leans past me, making my breath catch as his spicy, clean, Wes smell teases at my nose. Dammit, how does this man smell so good after being up all night loading a camper?
“Well,” he says, lingering close, his cheek just inches away. “You do have an unusually…sprawling display of garden gnomes.”
Ignoring the twist of awareness in my stomach and other places I refuse to think about, I ask, “An unusually impressive display, you mean?”
He shifts to face me, his breath warm on my chin. “Gnomes aren’t my favorite. They’re creepy.”
I arch a brow, desperately trying to play it cool, but my voice is husky when I say, “I heard gnomes felt the same way about you.”
His lips curve as his gaze slips down to my mouth, making every cell in my body ache to close the distance between us. “They think I’m creepy?”
“Super creepy,” I breathe, my nipples tightening into tingling points that make me grateful for the sweatshirt Wes gave me to throw on over my bridesmaid dress. “It’s the eyes, I think. Green like a snake belly.”
His smile widens. “Should I get contacts?”
“To appease the gnomes?” I ask, deadpan. “Yes. As soon as possible. I would suggest a nice, flat brown. No gold flecks, no amber ring around the edge. Just basic brown. People would probably take you more seriously in court, too.”
He nods, the playfulness leaving his gorgeous green eyes that should never be covered up by anything. Ever. “That reminds me, I have two meetings I need to reschedule for next week and a continuance to file with the court. Definitely need to send those messages when we pull over later to get some rest.” He sits back in his seat, arching a brow. “Ready?”
“Ready,” I say, checking to make sure Freya is still sleeping before slipping out the door and closing it as softly as possible behind me.
I start up the driveway, my head on a swivel, but the yard is empty. The only sign of trouble is the brown mess on my door and a couple of yellow dog waste bags on the front porch steps. Weirdly comforted that I’ve been attacked with dog poop instead of human poo, I punch the code into the panel on the garage door and duck under it as it rises, grabbing reusable bags from my stash in the laundry room on my way inside.
It only takes a few minutes to gather Freya’s things. I toss a few extra toys in the bag with her food and treats, then move into the kitchen, quickly packing perishables in my small cooler and other snacks in a separate bag. Leaving those by the garage door, I head into my room, fetching my large camping pack from the closet.
I open it on the bed, tucking underwear and bras into the pocket at the top before selecting a matching black bra and panty set for the day. I glance toward the bathroom, wondering if I have time for a fast shower before meeting Wes outside. I mean, I am lightning fast in a pinch, a skill I picked up when I used to work an early shift at the local coffee shop before heading into the catering office at ten. I couldn’t stand the smell of coffee grounds on my skin all day and had the three-minute shower down to a science.
Deciding it’s way better to spend a few minutes showering now than wait until later, when I’m even more tired and forced to figure out the shower system in the camper, I grab a pair of leggings and a soft denim button-down and scurry into the bathroom.
Closing the door, I strip off Wes’s sweatshirt and my dress, then tie my hair up with a scrunchie to keep it out of the spray. When I scoot the curtain to one side to start the water, I’m completely naked.
Which is perfectly normal and wouldn’t have been a problem…if there weren’t a dead body hanging from the shower faucet.
I scream bloody murder, my heart punching at my ribs as I scramble backward until my bottom collides with the cabinet by the sink. My hands flail out, searching for a weapon as my panicked gaze rakes up and down the form dangling from the spigot.
The armless, legless form, with large socket holes near the hips…
By the time I realize it’s not a dead body and stop screaming, Wes is bursting through the bathroom door, a vintage garden gnome held over his head like a weapon.