Chapter 20
Ash
The next day
Hmmm. Yes. I tilt my chin up, inspecting the bristly blonde moustache glued to my upper lip through the rearview mirror. I think this will do nicely.
It’s extreme. I’ll admit that. But these are desperate times.
I have officially gone through my entire list of potential distributors for the orchard this morning, and not a single one of them replied.
Which technically means I have no work to do right now.
At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself for the last forty minutes, ever since I parked my car at the very edge of the Serenity Ridge Retreat’s gravel lot.
I’m not stalking her. I am simply conducting a routine wellness check.
Luna is inside, presumably finding her inner peace or whatever, and this place takes their guests’ privacy very seriously.
They don’t allow anyone past the front lobby who hasn’t registered.
And I definitely don’t want the owner to see me, because he will absolutely recognize me, and there is zero chance he’d let me in.
Nor do I want Luna to recognize me. Because I am not here to disturb her. I’m just here to... make sure she has everything she needs.
And maybe get a whiff or two of her while I’m at it. Just a quick hit to take the edge off this tremoring withdrawal I’m getting. There’s no harm in that, right?
I reach into the passenger seat, grab the aluminum bottle I brought with me, and hose myself down. Pshhhht. The chemical sting of the scent-suppressing spray prickles my skin, erasing my scent.
There. I toss the can aside. This way I’m absolutely sure I won’t disturb her.
I check my mirror one last time. The mustache holds. The plan is flawless.
I already checked the retreat’s website. They’re hosting an open hiring drive today. All I have to do is walk into the lobby, fill out an application for the maintenance worker job they posted, and walk past security.
I don’t actually want to get hired, obviously. But the interview will surely get me further than the lobby. Once I’m in the back hallways, I can slip out, locate my mate, make sure she’s got everything she needs, take a few whiffs and leave.
It is brilliant. Completely foolproof.
Just as I reach for the door handle, an engine snarls in behind me. A beat-up pickup swings into the lot and jerks to a stop three spaces down.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Shit, Bram’s truck.
The engine cuts out. The passenger’s door opens and Reed steps out onto the gravel. Bram climbs down from the driver side, broad shoulders set, and sweeps a slow look across the lot. Row by row. Counting.
His gaze lands on my car. Stops. Holds.
He reaches over and taps the back of his hand against Reed’s chest without looking away. Reed follows his stare. Then they’re crossing the gravel toward me, unhurried, side by side.
Damn it.
I roll my window down with a smooth, unbothered smile as they approach. “Fancy seeing you boys here. Did you get lost on the way to the hardware store?”
Reed stalks the last few feet across the gravel and plants his hands on my door frame, glaring down at me.
“We found your laptop,” Bram says, walking up behind him. His voice is a low, dangerous rumble. “Open to the retreat’s job postings.”
“You were going to pull a solo mission,” Reed sneers. “Without us, you traitor. We are a pack.”
I keep my expression pleasant. Easy. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was simply enjoying a scenic drive and ended up pulling in here to take a quick nap.”
Reed stares at me, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
“... Really,” he says slowly. “Then what the actual fuck is on your face?”
Oh, shit.
“Oh, this?” I give the mustache a casual stroke. “Been meaning to see how one of these fits me before I let mine grow in. Not too bad, right? Whaddaya think?”
“Of the blond, dead squirrel on your lip?” Reed’s lip curls. “It’s horrendous. And it doesn’t even match your hair color.”
Did he just insult the disguise I spent fifteen whole minutes carefully picking out?
“I heard on social media it’s very fashionable these days,” I snap, adjusting the corner. “It’s called high contrast.”
“Dude, your stache is a cry for help.”
“A cry for—” I lean out the window. “Well, you look stupid. You’ve looked stupid your entire life.”
“Take that off—” Reed says, his arms flying up as he starts flailing his hands wildly at my face.
“Make me—” I fire right back, swatting in return, our hands blurring into a clumsy mess.
“Children, relax,” Bram says, coming between Reed and my door.
“He started it,” Reed pants.
“You started it,” I say, pressing the mustache back down.
“Enough,” Bram barks, and we both go still.
Bram crosses his arms, looking down at me. “For the record, I’m with Reed on this.”
Beside him, Reed gives me a smug, mock-sympathetic grin. I glare back at him.
“First, you turn traitor and drive out here without a word to either of us,” Bram continues. “Then you lie to our faces about it. You’re obviously trying to use the hiring drive to get inside, which, fine, at least it’s a plan. But why did you choose the single worst disguise in recorded history?”
“At least I have a disguise,” I shoot back. “Did you two geniuses forget we blackmailed the owner of this place? If either of you tries to walk through that lobby, he’ll have security on you in seconds.”
Bram looks down at me, unmoved.
“We’re not stupid, Ash,” he says. “We brought our own disguises.”
“Oh yeah?” I lean out the window, inspecting them. They are both wearing their standard jeans and flannels. Not a fake mustache in sight. “And where exactly are they?”
Bram reaches into his jacket pocket. He pulls out a blond toupee and slaps it onto his head. It sits slightly crooked, failing entirely to hide his hairline. “I even got glue for this,” he says, smirking.
Reed reaches into his back pocket, produces a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses with neon tape wrapped around the bridge, and slides them onto his face, giving me a smug, chaotic grin.
“See, brother?” Reed says. “We came prepared.”
Fuck, we’re never getting past the lobby, are we?