Page 17 of Somewhere You Belong

“It’s on Bayshore Drive.”

His eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Oh?” His response makes my hackles rise.

“Well, there’s only one house on Bayshore Drive whose owner I’m not familiar with, so I’m guessing I know which one it is.”

“Yeah, well, you’re looking at the new owner.”

The corner of his mouth tips up, like he’s secretly happy he’s met me. “Well, this is just perfect.” He chuckles.

“What is?”

Shaking his head, he says, “Nothing. Anyway, you need someone to take a look at it, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s been empty for years and I need to know what kind of work it needs so I can put in on the market.”

“Wait. Didn’t you just buy it?”

I bite my lip, fighting with myself over whether to divulge too much because my gut is telling me I should watch what I say. These people don’t need to know everything. Hell, I still haven’t processed it all. And the more I talk, the more they will.

Hopefully, this little project won’t take too long, and I can be on my merry way back to D.C. in a week or so, leaving behind this little obstacle and returning back to my life the way I like it—minus the blueberry muffins, of course.

“Not exactly.”

“I don’t understand…”

I cut him off. “I don’t need you to. I just need your expertise. Do you think you can handle that?”

His head retracts a bit on his neck. “Well, that’s my job, so yeah. I can handle it.”

“Good. So, when can you come by?”

His eyes move around the store as he thinks. “How about tomorrow morning? I can be there by eight.”

“Perfect. Thank you.”

We exchange contact information, and then I follow him to the register to pay for my supplies. A display of refrigerator magnets right next to the register catches my attention, but I quickly turn away, knowing I don’t need anything that trivial, something that will only remind me of what brought me here in the first place.

“You want one?” Penn slides his eyes to the display and then back to mine.

“No. I’m good.”

“Ah, come on. Everyone should take a little piece of Carrington Cove with them when they leave.”

Actually, Penn, this place is taking pieces of me and making me feel more incomplete than I already did. I don’t need any reminders.

“I don’t have a need for it. I’m here to settle things, not collect souvenirs.”

He grimaces at me but drops it and finishes ringing up the last few items.

In true gentlemanly fashion, he helps me out to my car, loading the items into the trunk. “Nice car,” he says admiringly.

“Thank you.”

“We don’t see many Teslas around here.”

“I imagine not.”

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