Chapter 3
Iwoke the next morning to light seeping through the windows, the yellowish-orange hue behind my eyelids making them flutter open.
I yawned and sat up, spotting The Wildflower Apartment on the floor, its pages wide open.
I quickly threw off the blanket, picked up the book, and smoothed out the wrinkled page bent by my careless dozing.
The cabin was already heating up to an almost insufferable level. I’d need the AC fixed before I melted.
Groggily, I gathered the trash bags by the door and began hauling them outside. I was halfway to the bins when…
Bam!
Something hit the backs of my knees and sent me sprawling onto the gravel driveway.
“Oh my gosh—Luna! Luna, STOP!”
I was flat on my back now, staring up at the tops of the trees, and could feel the unmistakable sensation of slobber hitting my cheek by what could only be described as a four-legged marshmallow.
But despite slobbery dog kisses being a little gross I couldn’t help but giggle.
“Well, hi there,” I said to the giant white dog, still licking me like I was made of peanut butter. “Personal space is a thing, you know.”
“Are you okay?” a breathless male voice asked. Two strong hands gripped my arms and gently pulled me to my feet. I blinked.
And then I really blinked.
He was tall, wearing a black T-shirt and matching joggers. An AirPod was squished into one of his ears, and he carried a hiking backpack. Inky-dark hair covered his head and fell across his forehead into a pair of navy-blue eyes that were staring at me with alarm and concern.
“I am so sorry,” he said, tugging Luna back with the broken leash. “I swear she’s usually better behaved.”
I wiped slobber off my cheek and then brushed the gravel off my pants. “Don’t worry about it. I really don’t mind.”
He knelt down to tie the frayed ends of the leash. “She’s not typically so wild. But she’s got a thing for trash. It’s kind of been a problem since she was a puppy. She rolls in it, eats it—I’ve had to put locks on all my trash bins.”
I laughed despite myself. “Well, she clearly knows quality garbage when she sees it.”
He gathered my trash bags and quickly helped me toss them into the bins.
“I’m Jay, by the way,” he said, still catching his breath. “I live across the lake. You must be new around here.”
This was the guy who lived in the cabin mansion worth more than a thousand of mine combined? Of course, I thought.
“I’m Hope,” I replied. “Just moved in next door.”
He glanced at the crappy cabin behind me and raised a brow. “Wait… you’re staying here?”
“Yep. It’s my brother’s.” A little bit of defensiveness crept into my tone. For some reason, my pride needed him to know the state of the cabin was not at all my doing. “He’s a doomsday prepper. Very into knives and beans.”
Jay laughed, a husky, deep laugh, and then he was smiling at me again.
Dang, I thought. His teeth.
It was impossible not to admire the perfect symmetry of his smile. I’d seen hundreds of mouths in my life, thousands of teeth in every shape and size, and I knew it was rare to see such straight, pearly whites.
“That actually explains so much. I always thought the place was abandoned.”
“It definitely appears condemned,” I deadpanned.
That made him laugh again. That same husky chuckle and it made something flutter a little in my stomach. Okay, this was so not what I came here for, I scolded myself. I needed to get my life together, not add more things that could produce problems and anxiety.
“Well,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “if you ever need help… trimming back the hedges or fixing the windows, I’ve got lots of tools at my place.”
I blinked. “Wait, really? You want to help me fix a crumbling survivalist shack?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah, I’d love to help. Unless you think it’s weird to offer my help. I mean, I know we don’t know each other, but I promise I’m not a creep—” He trailed off, as if realizing I had no way of knowing anything about him. “I have references.”
I smiled. “I’ll let you know if I need a background check.” Was I really flirting right now? Maybe I should’ve had better instincts. I mean, he could be an axe murderer for all I knew.
But he seemed genuine. Would it hurt to get some help? Neighbors helped each other all the time with no strings attached.
“I’ll be around this weekend. I’m just next door.” He tugged Luna gently and gave me one last dazzling smile.
And I panicked.
Because I suddenly became very aware of how not dazzling I looked. My hair was a rat's nest, and I was wearing a bleach-stained T-shirt and pants.
“Okay, cool. Bye. I mean—see you! At some point. In the future,” I stuttered, struggling to find the right goodbye.
His eyes sparkled with something akin to amusement.
“See you around, Remolino.” He tacked the word on quickly before I could even process it. Then Luna gave a happy little bark, and the two of them took off running into the trees again.
Remolino?
Did he just call me something in Spanish? That was Spanish, right? I was pretty sure, but I’d only taken a few Spanish classes in high school, and it had been years.
More than a little puzzled, I headed back up the driveway toward the cabin, muttering under my breath.
“Awesome. I meet my hot, rich neighbor looking like a swamp creature, and then he calls me something I can’t understand.”
I slammed the front door behind me and flopped down on the frumpy old couch. Too curious to leave the word floating around in my mind without a definition, I opened my laptop and spent the next five minutes trying to spell whatever he’d said.
It took a few tries, but I finally figured it out with the help of Google Translate.
Little Whirlwind.
So he had noticed my disgruntled appearance.
I rubbed a hand down my face and groaned.
The cabin was a mess.
My life was a mess.
I was a mess.
I knew it. And now my neighbor knew it too.
I leaned my head back against the couch cushions and glanced up at the ceiling. “Step one: shower. Step two: eat something that isn’t dirt.”
After my shower, I realized just how hungry I was.
And because I refused to eat canned beans and sardines, I decided it was time to try going into town.
Which meant I was going to have to look in the garage to see if there was a way to get there.
I found the opener in the kitchen junk drawer, then opened the one door I hadn't yet touched and hesitantly pressed the button.
The door groaned its way up, creaking in protest, and I waited with bated breath, bracing myself for more disorganization and grime that was likely to be revealed.
The first thing revealed by the light was millions of cobwebs.
They were on pretty much everything. And I got the heebie-jeebies instantaneously. I really, really despised spiders.
But then I saw the ancient Honda Civic peeking out beneath the cobwebs and dust, and thoughts of spiders biting me in my sleep were overtaken by my joy.
I might not have to walk everywhere after all, or spend all my savings on Ubers.
Would my location even show up on Uber? I didn’t know, but I really hoped I wouldn’t have to find out.
The car was extremely old but appeared to be intact.
I whispered a prayer. Please, let this car run.
I weaved my way through the maze of boxes, cringing when I felt cobwebs brush up against me, and tugged open the door.
The interior wasn’t bad; it just needed some all-purpose upholstery cleaner and leather polish. Then I saw the keys sitting in the cup holder like they’d been waiting for me all along.
Sliding into the seat, I gripped the wheel and closed my eyes. Turning the ignition, I held my breath.
“Please…” I whispered.
The Civic sputtered. Then it made a sound suspiciously like a dying animal, and then finally roared to life.
I squealed and clapped my hands. “Thank you, thank you!” I gave the dusty dashboard a loving pat.
The gas gauge showed a quarter tank, and that would be enough to get me to pancakes.
“Time for some carbs.”