CHAPTER 6
BLANCHETTE
In lieu of going for another walk the following morning—and thus risk encountering who I mentally deemed as the “Hot Grump” again—I stuck around my porch.
I nipped into the reception cabin around nine, letting May ply me with hot, buttery croissants laden with thick berry jam, slabs of local cheeses and dried meats, and a small platter of fruit, all of which I took back to my cottage with me.
And there I posted up for most of the morning, sipping coffee, nibbling off my breakfast tray at my leisure, and reading a thriller novel I’d had the good sense to pack with me as I rocked in the wooden chair on the porch overlooking the lake.
It was a beautiful morning, though my sunburn from my brief dip in the lake yesterday had me sticking to the shade. It was calm and peaceful…everything I’d envisioned when I thought of the word vacation.
But as my breakfast slowly dwindled after my second refill of coffee, and as I turned more and more pages in my book, which felt more and more predictable, I started to get antsy.
After two, it began to get uncomfortably hot and I was getting bored cooped up on the porch.
One thing I hadn’t realized was how much I relied on my phone to keep me occupied.
The mindless scrolling as I tried to sleep, the flipping through photo albums when I got fidgety, the constant checking and answering of text messages and emails that streamed into it all took a large chunk of my day.
I’d called Meg on the landline last night, but otherwise…May had informed me they were still in the process of getting internet connected to the cottages. I’d have to go into town for it.
And groceries—I need those too, I couldn’t help but think, my book spread face down over my leg as I eyed the glittering lake.
The town of Everwick-by-the-Sea, just mere miles down the highway, loomed in my mind, like a dull ache in my side. Yesterday I’d done a good job of trying to ignore how close I was to my grandmother’s home. To my home, for many, many years.
I couldn’t not visit while I was here. If I didn’t, when I returned to Graymore, the knowledge would make me feel even worse, the guilt multiplied. Meg had known exactly what she was doing by sending me here.
It was only my second day in and I was already bored and restless. What was I going to do here for the rest of the week?
Maybe I should go into town today. Go see my grandmother’s cottage. Rip it off like a bandage. That would satisfy Meg at the very least, and then I can just go back to Graymore early, I couldn’t help but think. I could just lie on the couch for the rest of the week and watch Steamy Island.
Was I ready to visit Everwick today?
I huffed out a sharp breath. I didn’t know if I would ever be ready, but I wanted to get it over with. Then I could decide if I wanted to stay or leave.
With that decision made, I stood from my rocking chair on the porch, feeling a drop of sweat roll down my back before the waist of my denim shorts stopped it.
I tidied up the last of my breakfast dishes, depositing everything in the kitchen, slathered on more sunscreen, and then grabbed my purse and keys.
But when I got to the dirt parking lot opposite the reception cabin, I discovered my car wouldn’t start.
I tried to turn over the engine multiple times, feeling my heartbeat begin to pound in dread and annoyance.
“Unbelievable. Just my luck,” I muttered, groaning as I slumped back in the hot driver’s seat. I tried one last time before climbing out and making my way across the lot.
The AC was blowing full blast in the reception cabin. May was sitting in one of the armchairs by the unlit fire, and she turned to regard me when I entered.
“Ya hungry, dear?” she asked. I wondered how she knew it was me but decided that it was because the other cabins were empty. I hadn’t heard or seen anyone check in yesterday evening.
“After the breakfast you gave me this morning?” I asked. “Not at all. Unfortunately, uh, my car won’t start.”
“Ahh.”
May stood, surprisingly limber and quick for someone her age. She gripped the handle of her cane as she came closer.
“I was hoping to go into town today to get a few groceries,” I told her. “But I think I should call someone out here to look at my car instead.”
“Toric’s shop is closed on Thursdays,” May informed me. “He goes fishin’ on Thursdays. Has for years, and no one will ever shake him of it, even if it’s stormin’. You’ll have to wait till tomorrow to get him to come out and take a look. I’ll call him first thing, though. Don’t ya worry.”
“Of course,” I mumbled. I took in a deep breath. “Hopefully it’s nothing serious.”
“But for now, I’ll get ya a ride into town,” May said. “How ’bout you meet back here in…say a half hour or so?”
“A half hour?” I asked. Might as well, considering the auto shop wasn’t open regardless. What else would I do? “All right. Thanks, May.”
She waved me off. I went back to the parking lot, popped the hood, and pretended that I knew what I was looking at.
With luck, it was just the battery again and it just needed a charge.
My rusted red car had already been eight years old when I bought it from a moving neighbor a few years ago.
Hopefully it wasn’t all the jostling down the road a couple nights ago that had broken something, something expensive.
I snapped the hood closed and leaned against the front as I waited. Without my phone, I felt the passing of time crawl even more slowly. I swore in that next half hour, the late-afternoon temperature rose by about ten degrees.
The back of my neck felt damp so I dug out a hair tie from my purse, pulling it back into a short ponytail. As I was looping the tie around, I heard the front door of the reception cabin slam and heavy footsteps lumber down the stairs.
Looking across the lot, hands tangled in my hair, I froze when I saw the Hot Grump.
And he was heading straight toward me…
Unfortunately, he was as handsome as I remembered, the kind of handsome that, even in Graymore, might stop me in my tracks on the streets.
When he stepped beyond the shade of a tree and a streak of sunlight hit him, I noticed that his dark brown hair had highlights of a deep auburn, similar to mine, and that the blue of his eyes appeared to glow.
He was wearing a white tee, considering the heat of the day, stray flecks of sawdust dotting the fabric, and his blue jeans fit him just right.
If Meg was here, she’d be climbing him like a tree already…and I didn’t know why the thought brought on an odd snap of jealousy right in my gut.
Those blue eyes were unreadable. As he approached, his booted feet striding over unyielding earth, I saw them flick, curiously, over me. Going to my hair, my chest…my bare legs.
Something fierce burned in me, and I felt my face flame. I hurriedly finished the ponytail, lowering my hands so my chest wasn’t jutting out, and straightened off my car’s hood.
“Good afternoon,” I greeted stiffly, feeling like a rock was lodged in my throat. Those blue eyes narrowed on me again. I heard the jingle of car keys in his hand.
“Ready?” he asked, the rumble of his voice deep and low, jerking his chin to gesture behind me. Confused, I looked over my shoulder, seeing the only other car in the lot, the dusty black truck I’d spotted when I arrived.
Another thing occurred to me…he must’ve been in the back room of the reception cabin when I’d come in. He’d heard about my car trouble.
“Oh no, that’s okay,” I said quickly, feeling panic rise. “May’s calling a taxi for me. My ride should be here any minute.”
He gave a low, short huff of amused condescension that set my teeth on edge. The corner of his mouth tilted up into something resembling annoyance. “A taxi, huh? They don’t come up here.” He leveled me a look. “I’m your ride. Let’s go.”
And he didn’t seem happy about it. I wondered if May had somehow coerced him into this, just like she’d blindsided me. I’d just assumed she’d meant a taxi, dammit.
I gave one last desperate look at my car. “It’s okay, really. I don’t mean to be a bother. I’ll just go into town tomorrow when—”
As he passed me on the way to his truck, he came close.
Close enough that I could smell him, like earthy pine and musk.
Delectable enough that I thought they should bottle it, have him on billboards as the model in his just-right jeans and white tee, with lumber tossed over his shoulder and power tools—
“Get in,” he said, the words a soft growl and clipped, allowing for no argument. “We’re losing light.”
Any retort I had died in my throat. I might’ve squeaked in affirmative, but I found myself turning toward his truck, opening the passenger door in a daze.
He slid into the driver’s side, the engine roaring to life before he put the AC on full blast and turned out of the lot.
The leather of the seats was hot on the backs of my bare thighs, and I shifted uncomfortably, finding it hard to breathe.
Despite the outside being dusty, the interior was surprisingly clean—no clutter, fast-food bags, stray receipts, coins. Nothing.
Yet it was one of the most awkward car rides of my life.
I looked out the windshield in disbelief of how I’d gotten myself in this position but, given no other choice, decided to deal with it.
Luckily, it was just a short ride into town once we reached the highway, ten minutes max.
He drove down the pothole-lined road with ease and experience. I barely felt a jostle.
When we reached the highway, when the silence became too much, I cleared my throat and said, “I really am sorry about yesterday. I honestly didn’t see a sign.”
He said nothing. His right fist merely tightened on the steering wheel. His other arm was perched along the window. I got the impression he was trying to ignore that I was there.
Rude, I thought. I was trying to apologize. It had been an honest mistake. I blew out a long breath, feeling the crispness of the AC begin to cool my hot skin.