Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Clay
One Week Later
The drive from Minneapolis to Havenwood is almost short compared to the time it takes me to get from the produce section to the bakery in this goddamn grocery store.
Last night, in a Minneapolis hotel room, I handed the remaining cash to the old college friend I was supposed to meet up with in Vegas the night of the shooting. He transferred money from one of his shell companies into mine—minus his cut.
It’s finally done. No more laundering, no more hiding. All I want now is to get back to Lou, but fate has other plans.
My attempt to avoid eye contact with Ford by carefully studying pre-packaged muffins while I wait for the baker, Anabelle, to bring out my special order fails spectacularly when the older man taps me on the shoulder.
“How’s Lou holding up?” he asks, although he stopped by Happy Lake yesterday to drop off a stack of old photos of Rita and Loretta, along with a bag full of paperbacks, and spoke to Lou for a solid hour.
While I’m sure he does care, the question is predominately an opening gambit to talk about the fire—“what a goddamn shame”—about Travis—“always knew that boy was trouble, shame they haven’t caught him yet”—and our plans to rebuild—“I know a guy who sells commercial kitchen appliances. He can probably get you a deal.”
By the time he finally wishes me a good day and ambles off, I’m holding my box of special-order cherry pastries from Anabelle.
I make it two steps before someone else moves into my path, and I’m forced to have a variation on the same conversation I’ve had with half of Havenwood. The fire. Travis. The future.
If I weren’t trying to get to Lou after a night away from her, I wouldn’t mind. Loath as I am to admit it, in the week since the fire, I’ve come to miss the locals and the small-town dive-bar chatter.
I miss them a little less when it takes the longest ten minutes of my fucking life to make it to the front of the store.
“Did you hear?” Cheryl asks, leaning over my groceries instead of ringing them up.
“Probably,” I say dryly, nudging the box of pastries closer.
Cheryl scoffs good-naturedly and continues not doing her job.
“Hayden moved out for good. Apparently, he got some young woman knocked up down in Missouri, and he’s decided to make a go of family life with her.
” Cheryl leans back and scans the box of pastries, a twinkle in her eyes as she adds, “Thought someone might want to know he’s gone. ”
I’m pretty sure Lou has forgotten her ex ever existed, but I wasn’t looking forward to years of bumping into the man who emptied her savings, so this is welcome news. I won’t ever have to find out if I can take him in a fight.
“Speaking of skipping town, Sleazy McCormick packed up and left. There was a raid on his law office last week.” She lowers her voice dramatically. “Embezzlement, I heard. More charges likely.”
“Really?” I say in mock surprise. It’s in my best interest if the lawyer gets away and no one looks too closely at Gallo’s, but McCormick doesn’t have anything of substance on me.
Travis is a different story. As much as he deserves punishment for burning down the bar, he knows enough to bring me unwanted attention.
If he’s smart with the money he has left and doesn’t do anything foolish, he’ll likely be able to start over, hopefully in another state.
Cheryl continues her stream of gossip—Kristen Donnelly and Keith are seeing each other, Elyse is now a grandmother, and one of Blake’s employees caught a record muskie out of some lake I’ve never heard of.
Luck swings my way as some out-of-towners pull their cart full of groceries up behind me, and Cheryl scans my groceries.
Finally, I’m out the door, stepping into the warm August morning’s sun, but my sigh of relief morphs into a groan when I see Diana Gustafson parked next to me, standing at the back of her SUV and rifling through her gigantic handbag.
She abandons the search—which was likely an excuse to wait for me without looking like she was waiting for me—as I step up to my car.
“Good morning, Mrs. Gustafson,” I say mildly.
“Good morning.” Milo’s grandmother gives me a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes. It’s the smile of someone with a stick so far up their ass for so long they’ve forgotten what it is to be comfortable, and they’re more than happy to make that everyone else’s problem.
It’s not a secret that she’s unhappy Lou and I are occupying a cabin—even though I’m paying for it—but despite all her passive-aggressive comments on the subject, she keeps trying to offer Lou a job, like that is the best favor she can do, and Lou ought to gratefully accept it.
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told her I have a trust fund that Lou and I can comfortably live off—a lie, but there’s no reason she shouldn’t believe it.
I’ve suggested she offer that job to Isaac, who’d been working with his mother Mariah in Gallo’s kitchen, instead.
Mariah has already accepted a job in Pine Point.
Odds are the subject of the cabin and the job offer are why she’s loitering near my car, and thankfully, I can put an end to at least one of those topics now.
“I have some good news for you,” I tell her as I open my car door and lean in to set the groceries on the passenger seat.
“Oh?” she asks with a raise of her thin eyebrows.
“Lou and I are closing on a house in a few days. We’ll be out of your cabin by the end of the week.”
She gives me a doubtful look. “You…bought a house? Just like that?”
“Yes.” Technically, my little shell company is buying a house. It’s temporary. Lou wants to build on the site where Rita’s house stood, but that will take time, and we want to focus on rebuilding the bar first.
But for now, the navy-blue-painted one-bedroom house on Hope Lake, with the private dock and new sauna, will be our home.
Diana asks a few questions about the property—I have no doubt she’ll be off to look at the listing price when she gets back to Happy Lake. I almost wish Lou had given me the green light on the more expensive house on another lake, just to add to the permanently sour look on Diana’s face.
Thankfully, Diana isn’t particularly chatty, and once she has the information she needs, she excuses herself to get her groceries.
I’m starting to get a deeper understanding of Milo’s perpetually grumpy attitude and the challenge he faces in convincing her to sell the campground and lodge to him.
Before anyone else can delay me, I slip into the car and peel out of the parking lot.
I can’t stop my smile as I drive down familiar bends in the highway. It’s only been one night, but I miss her so much. Hopefully, she’s still in bed and I can slip under the sheets next to her. I want to breathe in the soft scent of her skin and feel the silky strands of her hair tickling my face.
I want to kiss my way down her body and have her come apart on my tongue.
Happy Lake is bustling this morning. An older man holding a metal detector waves as I drive by, and I slow for a couple of pre-teens on bikes. I catch a glimpse of Benji on the riding lawn mower down by the lodge. Our stay here has been good, but I’m looking forward to more privacy.
I park in front of cabin three, grab the groceries, and a few shopping bags. The cabin door is locked, so I have to juggle everything before I can open it, but finally, I’m walking through the door.
The kitchen and living room are empty, so I kick off my shoes, leaving the groceries and the shopping bags on the dining table before heading to the bedroom.
Lou is still asleep, one leg sticking out from under the sheets. I strip down to my boxer briefs and climb into bed. She murmurs my name, rolling to face me as I wrap my arms around her.
“I missed you,” I whisper into her hair.
“Did you get it done?” she asks.
“I did.”
“And the eight million?”
“Set up for recurring small donations to several women’s shelters, mutual aid funds, reproductive rights organizations, LGBTQIA+ organizations, and so on, from a number of smaller accounts.
” After a discussion, we decided to expand the list of places to donate the money to.
The remaining two million will help us get back on our feet, and once we’re there, we’ll donate whatever is left.
“Good.” She grips my cock through my boxer briefs, stroking me at an idle pace until I’m rock hard. “I missed you, too.”
“Open your legs and show me how much you missed me,” I growl, already kissing my way down her body.