Chapter 7
“If this is how Dorothy felt in the Wizard of Oz, I am never visiting Kansas.” ~ Dakota
Dakota
“D id you finish the list?” Eli asks.
I hold up my clipboard. “All done.”
“Good.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Get home and get safe. A hurricane of this size can cause a lot of damage.”
“But a house is safe?”
I didn’t think about the possibility of hurricanes when I moved to an island on the Atlantic coast. But now I’m wishing I had. Because the sound of the wind is freaking me out and the hurricane isn’t even here yet. It isn’t expected to hit land for several hours.
“Of course, it is. All homes on Smuggler’s Hideaway constructed after 1970 have been built to withstand hurricanes.”
1970? The Mermaid Motel is from the 1950s. Is it not safe?
Sadie evacuated all the guests, but she assured me I’d be perfectly safe in my suite. If the guests weren’t safe, why am I? She had no answer to my question.
I force a smile. “Great. I’ll grab my purse and lock up. You go ahead.”
“Thanks for all your help, Dakota. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
I smirk. “You’d be lost without me.”
“Take care,” he says before leaving.
I grab my purse and keys. My heart thumps in my chest. I don’t want to abandon the protection of this sturdy building to stay in a motel with the thinnest walls in existence, but what choice do I have?
None. I open the door to leave. The wind smacks me in the face and the door smashes into the side of the building. Damn. This is worse than I thought.
Rhett argued we should board up the door for protection, but Eli insisted the building is hurricane proof and the door didn’t need to be protected.
Hurricane proof? The reminder is all I need to know. I fight the door but eventually I win. When the door is finally shut, I’m not outside in the parking lot. I’m inside. Where I hope I’ll be safe.
According to Google, I should take refuge in a small interior room on the lowest level. I need to put as many walls between me and the outside as I can.
The closet in Eli’s office should be perfect. I gather bottles of water and protein bars from the breakroom, a blanket from the sofa in Miles’s office, and a flashlight from my desk before making my way to Eli’s office.
I carefully lay Eli’s coats and extra suits on one of the chairs in his office before making myself a blanket fort and settling in to ride out the storm.
“What are you doing in here?”
I startle awake at the question and open my eyes. A light shines into them and I slam them shut again. “What? Who?”
“Dakota,” Rhett murmurs, and I force my eyes open. His flashlight is no longer pointed at my face. He kneels in front of me. “What are you doing in here?”
“Is it over?”
“The storm?”
“It was so windy and loud.”
He sighs. “No, it’s not over.”
“What are you doing here if there’s a hurricane out there?”
“The police phoned about an abandoned car in the parking lot.”
“Do not make fun of my car.”
He holds up his hands. “I wasn’t going to.” He smirks. “But it wouldn’t be surprising if the ancient relic died in the parking lot.”
I gasp. “Don’t say such a thing. Matilda isn’t ancient.”
He chuckles. “Matilda? You named your car?”
“Matilda means brave.”
And since I wasn’t feeling very brave when I bought the car, I forced myself to be brave by naming her Matilda. Fake it until you make it.
“No matter how brave Matilda is, she’s not going anywhere now.”
“I wasn’t planning on going outside in a hurricane anyway.” No thanks. I’m good in my blanket fort. The winds before the storm landed were scary enough.
He nudges my shoulder. “Scoot over.”
“Why? I’m comfy here.”
“It’s safer if we shut the closet door.”
“We? What are you talking about?”
“I can hardly go back out in the storm.”
“But you came out in the storm.”
He glances away. “Because I was worried about you.”
I blink. “You were worried about me? The man who has the victory party planned for when I’m fired?”
“I wouldn’t say planned. Does renting a venue count?”
I giggle. “I hope you didn’t put down a deposit because I am not getting fired.”
He shrugs. “They said the deposit is refundable.”
I feign surprise and let my jaw drop open. “Rhett Raider, did you make a joke?”
“I can joke.”
“Really? Your brothers are convinced you’re a robot.”
“My brothers are assholes.”
I elbow him. “Don’t speak about your family that way. Families are special.”
At least, I assume they are. I’ve never had one. Don’t mistake me. Growing up in care wasn’t horrific. At least, not for me it wasn’t. Did I have warm and fuzzy foster parents? I did not. But they were decent people who fed and clothed me and made sure I got my homework done. They also had more foster kids than they knew what to do with. They didn’t have time for hugs or cuddles.
Rhett sighs before using his hip to nudge me further into the closet. The touch of his body has mine feeling all warm and fuzzy. I ignore it. I’m obviously a bad judge of men. A former husband who gambled our money away and a man who wants to fire me. Totally bad judge of men.
Once Rhett’s inside, he shuts the door behind him and sets a lantern on the floor to illuminate the area.
“Do you have any food? I’m starved.”
I gather my bag of food and hug it close to me. “No way. You’ll finish up my supplies in five minutes, and who knows how long the storm will last.”
“Are you saying I’m a pig?”
“No, I’m saying your muscles have muscles and they need fuel.”
And I’m not saying I want to touch those muscles. Or trace them with my tongue. Nope. Not I. See the aforementioned remark regarding my abysmal taste in men.
He flexes his bicep. “Are you impressed?”
“I’m more impressed with brains than with brawn.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “What if I have both?”
“Then, you wouldn’t have written a report about bananas even though you’re the CFO of a distillery.”
“Because someone messed with my computer.”
I roll my eyes. “If you had brains, you’d know how to fix it. It’s really simple.”
“Really simple?”
“Yep.” I nod. “Super simple. A baby could do it.”
“Could a baby do this?”
He tickles my ribs and I giggle. I’ve always been super ticklish.
“Stop it.” I bat at his hands. “No tickling. I’ll pee myself.”
He freezes. “You can’t pee yourself when we’re stuck in a closet together.”
“Good thing I have the strongest bladder of anyone I know.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “You said you’d pee if I tickled you.”
“Got you to stop, didn’t I?”
“But now I know you’re ticklish.”
“And I know you’re afraid of the smell of pee.”
He grunts. “If you had my five brothers, you’d be afraid of the smell of urine, too. Putting your hand in warm water while you’re sleeping won’t make you pee. But tricking your brother into drinking a gallon of water before bed and then daring him not to use the bathroom all night will.”
My nose wrinkles. “Ew. Who wet the bed?”
“Kai but you can never let him know I told. We had to do a blood oath of secrecy.”
“Why would you do a blood oath of secrecy? This is prime teasing material.”
“Kai made us swear to secrecy or he was going to tell Mom about the time we broke her oven.”
“How did you break an oven? I’ve had plenty of cooking mishaps, and I’ve never broken an oven. A microwave, maybe, but never an oven.”
“Remind me to remove the microwave from the break room.”
I slap him. “I broke the microwave when I was ten. No one told me you can’t put aluminum foil in a microwave.”
He rolls his eyes. “Because it’s common knowledge.”
“Not in the foster home I lived in.”
He leans closer. “You grew up in care?”
Crap. I don’t want to talk about my past. My past leads from foster care to jumping into bed with the first man who pretended to care for me, to marrying him, to becoming a widow in dire need of money. No one wants to hear my pathetic story. Least of all me.
“Rhett!” Eli shouts. “Dakota! Where are you?”
Rhett kneels to open the closet door. “We’re in here.”
Eli stares down at us. “Why are you hiding in a closet?”
“It’s supposed to be the safest place during a hurricane,” I say.
“Lucky for you. The hurricane is over.”
“Awesome. I’m out of here.” I climb over Rhett and Eli offers his hand to help me up.
I stretch my muscles and twist my neck to relieve the stiffness from being cramped in a closet with Rhett for who knows how long.
Rhett, who laughed and joked with me. Rhett, who told me secrets about my family. Rhett, whose body was a source of heat.
No. No. No. Stop it, Dakota. You are not developing a crush on the man who’s trying to fire you.
But maybe he won’t try to fire me anymore? I glance up at him from beneath my lashes. Maybe this is the start of a friendship.
The lights flicker on and I blink my eyes at the assault of light. I notice the clock on the wall and swear.
“Oh crap. Is that the time? I need to…”
I rush off without finishing my sentence. My truce with Rhett is a fragile thing. If he figures out I’m sick, he might go back to trying to get me fired. And I need the health insurance. More than I need a friend.