Page 68 of The Last Good Man

A few moments pass, and a horse neighs outside.

Curious, I turn off the water, run a towel over my frame, put on my bathrobe, and pace to the window.

I crack it open and look to my left.

Yards away, Olivia’s son walks two horses into a stable.

Their website specified they offered horse riding lessons in the summer, so I might want to try that in the future.

The horses and the man are already inside, yet I linger at the window, listening to the silence when the noise of a car travels from the woods, its headlights flickering through the trees.

More guests are coming, and the thought that it’s a big crowd makes me feel good.

I spin around and go straight to the bedroom to check the two dresses I packed for this evening.

Before long, Ioptfor the black cocktail dress with a V-neckline, fitted design, a back zipper, and a hem that hovers right above the knee.

I pull out my black pumps and slip them on before painting my lips crimson.

The splash of red adds life to my otherwise stern look, although I’m not here to flirt with anyone.

By the time I take the stairs down, voices, laughter, music, and the clinking of silverware drift from downstairs.

The dining room is packed, and once I inch closer to the entrance, Olivia greets me with a smile, inviting me to follow her inside.

I’m convinced she won’t be able to find a seat for me, but she does.It’s a small table for two, and she pulls the chair out, signaling me to sit.

“What would you like to drink?” she asks, removing the second plate and making more room on the table.

“Wine would be fine.”

I place my food order, and it doesn’t take long before I delight myself with grilled shrimp over angel hair pasta tossed in olive oiland seasonedwith lemon edges and a scrumptious piece of chocolate raspberry cake.

People are animated all around me as I take another bite of cake andturn my gaze tothe misted windows.

Car headlights glow outside as some of the guests start leaving.

Absently peering out the window, I chew on my cake when an eerily familiar noise tears into the air.

The roaring car engine makes me stop chewing. I listen with my mouth full before I put my dessert spoon down, lean forward, and look outside.

The slanting sheets of rain conceal the shapes, yet even so, the racing stripes on that car are easy to spot.

My heart gets drunk, jumping up and down, but I’m convinced it’s a coincidence.

So, I pick up my dessert spoon and chew on my cake again, dragging my gaze around the room.

Olivia and Herbert are in the hallway with a few guests, and several seats in the dining room are empty.

I try to appear calm, although a part of my brain spinsthisidea that it’s statistically impossible to see a car like his here in the middle of nowhere. Withouta good reason.

My restlessness only soars when I look outside.

A couple of cars pull away, heading to the nearest town, while the sports car pulls up in front of the inn.

The driver turns off the engine, and does nothing.

Nah… It can’t be him. I must be delusional.

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