Page 14 of Flipping the Script

“Yeah, they’re getting really bad.”

“Why don’t you fix them?” I asked, not sure why I was keeping the conversation going.

“Fix them?” He tossed a smirk over his shoulder. “It’s cute you think I have that much power.”

“I didn’t mean you, likeyouin particular.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes, even though his back was to me and he’d never see it. “I meant you as in all of you who own property here. It’s not like this zip code can’t afford it.”

“You’d think they’d fix them to protect their fancy cars, but rich people don’t like spending money on things like roads when they’re blowing their disposable income by suing the state to allow motorized boats on the lake.” He stopped near where my truck was parked and faced me.

“Your neighbors are suing the state so they can use boats on the lake?” Why did I just repeat what he’d said like a moron?

“Yup. They bought in knowing they’re not allowed, but now they all want fancy boats and are pissed they can’t have them.” He raked a hand through his dark hair distractedly.

I knew the property had a private beach, but from what I remembered, it wasn’t more than a small strip of sand and a dock that had seen better days.

“Anyway, thanks for bringing the stuff up.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, looking awkward again.

“Yeah, no problem.” I glanced at the house. “You know, a nice person would offer me a drink or something after driving over an hour to bring them a bunch of incredibly heavy boxes.”

He snort-laughed. “You might need to up your workout, Miller. The boxes you carried were full of linens.”

It had been an age since he’d called me by my last name, and awareness prickled in my chest.

He’d spent the better part of our teen years calling me Miller, the same as most of my friends, because that’s what student athletes did. Only Sebastian had done it to mock me.

“Heavy linens,” I countered.

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Do you want a drink?”

I was tempted to say no, just to be a dick, but I was thirsty.

“I would love one. Thank you for offering.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared at me.

I smiled serenely back at him.

“Do you want water or juice?” he grated out.

“What kind of juice?”

“Orange and cranberry.”

“Does the orange juice have pulp in it?”

“No.”

“Water is fine, thanks.”

With a huffing sigh, he stomped into the cabin, the door banging shut behind him.

Snickering at how easy it was to rile him up, I looked around, paying closer attention.

It was beautiful. The surrounding forest was thick and lush, creating a natural sound barrier that made the whole areaalmost completely silent. Only the rustle of the breeze in the leaves and the occasional animal or bird call could be heard. The near quiet was soothing in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“Here.” Sebastian stuck a bottle of water under my nose.

I took it and unscrewed the cap.

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