Page 12 of One Short Summer

I could use a little otherworldly help.

“Let’s hope so. My own magical unicorn seems to have abandoned me these past few months.”

Chapter Four

Gabe

We finally makeit to the house after several long hours stuck in traffic. I’m sure both Monica and I were ready to ditch the car and walk the rest of the way at some point, especially when we hit a standstill a few miles outside of town.

After parking in front of the garage, I turn off the car with a deep sigh, letting my head fall on the headrest. I turn to look at Monica when I don’t hear a peep from her. She’s been so antsy, even more so for the last few hours, that I expected her to jump out of the car the second it stopped. Instead, her chin is pressed to the top of the dashboard, her nose almost pressing into the windshield as she stares up at the house.

“Wow. It’s gorgeous.” She pulls back and opens the door, hopping out of the car, her eyes never leaving the house.

I follow suit and chuckle. It’s not often to catch her off guard like this. Quite the opposite, actually. You try and impress Monica and most likely achieve the opposite, and vice versa. Like that one time I tried to lift her spirits by spoiling us with an expensive dinner. Let’s just say, the evening ended with a big pizza we couldn’t eat fast enough. I would have kept my mouth shut about the disappointing fine dining experience to make her happy, but Monica doesn’t work that way, at least not with me.

I can see straight through her façade, the one she puts up for others so often, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. “I take it you like it?”

She nods, still not looking at me. “I love it. The huge wraparound porch is so beautiful.”

For some reason, knowing she likes it fills my chest with pride, and I stand a little taller. “Isn’t it? That was one of the things that really stood out to me when I first saw it. Mrs. Johnson will be pleased to hear you approve. She talked me into buying it.”

Her head whips in my direction, her wide eyes locking with mine as she gapes at me with her mouth open. It takes her a moment to find her composure, even though the shock mixed with excitement never really leaves her gaze. “Wait. This isyourhouse? I thought you rented a house for our stay.”

“Nope. It’s mine.” I can’t hold back a grin and brush my hand through my hair. Trying to act casual has never really been my thing.

“Wow, I didn’t realize. You’ve talked about it before, but I assumed you always rent the same place or something like that.”

“When I first started coming here, I used to rent cabins on the outskirts of town. I wanted to be alone, so I could focus on my writing as much as possible. The fewer people I had to see, the better. At least that’s what I thought would be best. It only took a few visits before I realized the town was slowly wrapping me around their little finger.”

“What happened?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing big. But one time, the writer’s block wouldn’t go away as quickly as it usually did. When the cabin walls seemed to fall in on themselves, I decided to come out to socialize. Believe it or not, it actually helped. Everyone here is really friendly, so I started renting houses closer to town whenever I came back. Mrs. Johnson kept telling me I should invest in a place, that she’d help me maintain it while I’m gone. At some point, I finally gave in. We looked at a lot of houses and nothing felt right. But once I saw this one, I knew I was a goner.”

Monica’s whole face beams as she listens to my story, and I can’t remember the last time she looked this relaxed and happy. Maybe it’s too good to be true, but getting her out of Brooksville already seemed to have made a difference. At least, I’d like to believe so. I’ve wondered before if she felt a lot of pressure there, where everyone was just waiting for her to get back on her feet to dance again.

With the hot sun shining down on us, I can’t help but notice her hair looks shinier, the red tint in it almost sparkling, complementing her glowing eyes.

Wait. What am I doing? It feels like this trip has already taken a toll on me too.

No more ogling Monica. That’s not what we’re here for.

“That’s great. Seems like she has great taste.” She turns back to the house, and I push my hands into the pockets of my jeans, watching her as her eyes roam all over the house and the surroundings.

A white fence, very similar to the one Hudson and I just built at Grandma’s, encloses the property, keeping the rest of it hidden from view. The front yard has been taken care of very well in my absence, as usual, and a small stone trail leads up to the porch, with the flowers in the garden beds blooming in all colors of the rainbow.

Monica clears her throat before giving me a grin that looks a little strained. “Soooooo… Mrs. Johnson, huh?”

Why is she asking about Mrs. Johnson?

Wait a second. She can’t be… Is she jealous?

I can’t help myself and follow this train of thought. “Yeah, what about her?” I cross my arms across my chest, biting the inside of my mouth to keep from smiling as I watch her squirm—something very unlike her.

“Yeah.” She waves her arm around, like Mrs. Johnson might pop up out of thin air at any moment.

“You might run into her at your yoga class tomorrow, so you can meet her.”

Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead again, the corners of her mouth tugging downward a fraction. “You know she likes yoga? Seems like you know this Mrs. Johnson very well.”

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