Page 22 of Lucky in Love
But Holly hadn’t just purchased a fifty-acre campground. And Holly didn’t have family here in GVF.
“Well, I can’t leave my business or my grandpa.” She shrugged.
“It’s just a bunch of cabins. Is that really a business?”
Ouch. He finally caught a clue where the conversation was heading. “Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. And I guess I could think about moving here someday.”
His smile and apology melted the frost that had been icing over her heart. “And maybe someday, I could consider moving tothe city,” she said, putting her arms around his neck. “Holly did it, and she loves it. It’s possible I would too.”
She relaxed into his kiss. It was nice, but different from the kisses in New York. Then again, it was hard to compete with the one-two combo of vacationandbrand-new-relationship kisses.
The twelve-inch height difference made kissing tough, and once her neck was sore, she broke away. “You ready?”
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
They started up the trail. It was less than a mile, and they made it to the falls quickly. When they popped out of the trees and into the clearing, her breath caught.
“Wow,” she said. “I’ve been up here a million times, but each time it’s different. Fall is definitely my favorite season.”
He slung an arm around her shoulders. “It is very pretty. It’s also creepy quiet. I’m used to twenty-four-seven traffic noise.”
“It does feel weird with no one else here. The Grocer must really have people spooked. Pft. As if a fugitive would have time for a scenic hike.”
Behind them, someone coughed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Now that Brody had had time to digest the news—that he was single and unemployed—he’d given some thought to not finishing the assignment. Why should he? After what they’d done to him? But after a lengthy mental debate, his professionalism prevailed. He would complete the job. Plus, they’d already paid for the seven-day stay and the flights. If he didn’t finish it, they might come after him for reimbursement, and the last thing he wanted was to owe them anything.
On yesterday’s drive from the airport to Green Valley Falls, he’d done some thinking. Well, probably better described as stewing.
How could Chloe cheat on him? How did he not see she was the type of woman capable of it? And how could he have been so far off on where their relationship was?
He thought he’d done okay as a boyfriend. Except for being gone all the time, he listened, was supportive, rubbed her feet, and drew her a bath after a long day of work. What more could he have done?
At thirty-five, he’d had his share of girlfriends. And though he usually did the breaking up, he was always respectful and gentle. If he’d had a Yelp page, he guessed most women would rate him five out of five. Never had a complaint anyway. And certainly never been cheated on.
Brody had gone to The Rusty Nail for dinner. He’d been honest when Nick approached him at the bar and asked how the trip had gone.
News would spread, but Brody didn’t much care. He wouldn’t debase himself by begging Nick to keep his business a secret. Seemed too junior-high-ish and not worth relinquishing his man card over.
This morning, he slept in and then drove around assessing photo opportunities, finally stopping at the diner in town. He was hungry, and they had free Wi-Fi. He sat in a booth, opened his laptop, and ordered a club sandwich.
First, he logged into his bank accounts and investment portfolio. He needed to determine how long he could go without income. Since his phone bill and payments to his mom were automatic, it had been a while since he’d checked his account.
Wanderlust paid all of his travel expenses. And because he was constantly on the road, he had no rent or mortgage, no water or electric bills, no car payment. Really, except for his phone, food while he wasn’t on the job, and a new shirt every now and then, he hardly spent any money.
Which explained all the zeros in his savings account. He’d be fine. Even paying his mom’s mortgage, which he’d been doing for years, he could take his time figuring out what to do next.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to check the caller ID. Speak of the devil. It was his mom.
Since he’d walked in, the other diners had been shooting him dirty looks. Small-town folk were always wary of strangers, but this had more menace to it. They probably suspected he was the prison escapee.
“Hi, Mom,” he said louder than needed, hoping it would put to rest any fears that he was about to rob the place. After all, what kind of cold-blooded killer would take a call from his mother?
“Honey!” she said. “How are you? I don’t know what took me so long, but I just put two and two together and realized yourlatest assignment is right up there by where this escaped convict is running around.”
“Yeah. Funny story about that.” His mom would get a hoot out of Alex mistaking him for the bad guy and calling the police. “Later though. I’m in a diner having lunch right now. How are you?”
