Page 40 of Building What's Meant to Be

“For the record—” I start.

“Do you get the sense that I’m keeping records?” Aiden asks with a smile as he turns onto a country road.

My lips quiver, but this time with a smile.

“I just mean, in case you’re wondering, I had absolutely nothing to do with the charges against Puma Palmer. Much like you and I right now, we were just hanging out. He wanted more, but—” I shrug, suddenly uncomfortable with where I took this conversation and what Puma’s wining and dining suggested. My stomach churns with regret. What was I thinking? I know the answer. I wasn’t thinking. I was wanting.

“But I wasn’t interested,” I say.

“Much like right now,” Aiden repeats in a low, measured tone.

“Right. You’re helping me out. I appreciate it. I’ll pay you back too. I—” I pause, snagging on a thought. “Wait, why are you helping me?”

A pause stretches between us as the sun shifts to the tops of trees, painting the field in shades of pastel watercolors.

He rolls down the window, letting in a pleasant breeze, carrying a fresh mowed grass scent along with his reply. “Much like the work clothes.”

It takes me half a beat to understand what he means. “Oh, it’s southern hospitality? Generosity?”

“Something like that. You could just say it’s how we do in Butterbury.”

“Despite half a day in a jail cell, I’m going to admit something that might surprise you. It surprises me. It’s not so bad in Butterbury. I don’t plan to get used to it, but so far, it’s scenic. If I were scouting a location for a romantic drama, I’d pick here.”

“It’s home.” Just then, Aiden turns down a thickly tree-lined road with barely enough room for two cars to pass. In fact, had I been driving, I would’ve missed the turnoff. A frog and cricket-filled forest stretch in both directions. We leave the remainder of the sun behind.

Actually, plot twist. Scratch the romance movie. It’s turned into a horror film. This would be the part of the movie, when the audience yells,Go back. It’s not safe. He’s leading you to your doom.

My knuckles pink up as I grip the armrest on the door.

Aiden leans back in the seat, one lazy hand on the wheel as if he just left something behind.

His sense of direction?

“Where are we going?” I ask in a voice that sounds more like a mouse than a human.

“I told you, my place.”

“A murder cabin in the woods?”

He chuckles, and I tell myself the rough sound does not belong to a killer. Aiden coughs and then clears his throat. “Sorry. Inhaled a bug. I’m okay.”

I roll up my window as we reach a clearing.

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

Humble is right. A tow camper trailer sits on a concrete pad behind a rusty pickup truck. Under an awning, sits a folding chair and table along with a grill. A muddy four-wheeler hulks off to the side along with a shiny motorcycle. There’s some major incongruency between the camp gear and the Maybach.

“I could’ve taken a portion of the family property, but I wanted Mae to be happy. No doubt she and Taylor will carry on the Fuller Farm legacy. Plus, I wanted to start something new. Something of my own.” He gets out of the car.

I tentatively follow while tucking his goals and desires away to think about later because right now I’m worried about the present. Swallowing thickly, I say, “This seems like the place a Murder Doll would live.”

Aiden laughs long and heartily then slaps his thigh.

I edge toward the car. I could lock myself in if I have to. Then again, I don’t think anyone will come looking for me. If I scream, I doubt anyone will hear me this far out in the middle of nowhere.

When Aiden’s laughter goes quiet, he says, “Never, not once, has anything related to Murder Doll done anything other than giving me the willies. Fortunately, Murder Doll has been locked in my trunk since the Fall Fundraiser Festival.”

Forget feeling droopy, my eyes bulge.

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