Page 12 of The Homecoming

“Morning run.”

She sat up. “In the rain?”

He kicked his shoes off and smiled at her before pulling his wet athletic shirt off and tossing it into the pile in the corner. She wasn’t hungover enough to not appreciate the view. “Not so much a problem for me,” he replied.

She wrinkled her nose. “Better you than me,” she said, pulling the covers back over her head.

The shower started up and Autumn fell back asleep until the bed next to her moved rousing Autumn from her slumber. Dan, freshly clean and naked as a jaybird slid under the covers next to her.

“You brought me here,” she said. Autumn nestled her face against his chest and inhaled the scent of soap.

“Of course.” His hand wandered under her shirt and came to rest on her stomach.

“Why didn’t you take me home?”

“I didn’t want to take you home drunk. I couldn’t take care of you there.” His hand rubbed her stomach lightly. “And this way, I get to wake up with you.”

“Do you have any headache medicine?” she asked, immediately changing the subject.

“Drawer.” He gestured to the bedside table.

She mustered the strength to move and pulled open the drawer, finding the bottle next to a handgun and a box of bullets.Well, that was good to know.She swallowed one of the pills with a gulp of the water on the table. “What am I supposed to tell my parents?” She lay back down next to him, and his hand returned to its position under her shirt.

“That I’m the best sex you’ve ever had.” His smile was mischievous.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. He wasn’t wrong, but she would never tellhimthat, let alone her parents.

“Babe, you’re twenty-three. You lived in Knoxville for four years. They didn’t know everything you did there, did they?”

She shook her head. “It’s just weird being back under their roof,” she sighed. “It makes me feel like a kid.”

“But you’re not a kid.”

“They’re still not going to be happy about it.” She closed her eyes.

“What are they going to do?” he asked, his hand migrating upward.

She shrugged.

“They probably won’t even say anything.”

“You’re just trying to get laid,” she said.

He smiled. “Is it working?” His hand slid from her breast down into her underwear.

It was. Not that she’d admit it.

5.

The White Oak Travel Agency sat in a strip mall lining the town square. The front window was filled with gorgeous photos of various tropical locales, all emblazoned with promises of incredible deals for the trip of a lifetime. Autumn stepped through the front door into the small, musty, wood-paneled room. Behind the front desk, boxes were stacked all along the walls.

An older man with a bad dye job and a visible comb-over sat at a desk inside. “Hello, hello,” he said. “I’m Randal Winters, travel agent extraordinaire. What can I do for you today, young lady?”

Autumn handed him the paper. “I’m from the temp agency.”

“Great.” He looked at the paper. “Autumn? Like the season, huh?” He glanced up from the paper, directly at her chest. “Autumn is also known as ‘fall’. So it’s fitting you’re named Autumn, as women have been the downfall of many men.” He laughed at his own remark, earning a polite smile. “Well, Autumn, they sent you to be my office girl.” He stood, his maroon, polyester suit matching the 1970s vibe of when this place opened. It was probably also the last time it had been decorated or cleaned. “Let me show you around.”

He walked her through an arched doorway into another wood-paneled back area where old, musty furniture was stacked in a corner next to the door of his private office. The other side of the room was a small kitchen area where Randal instructed her on how to make the coffee and told her to remember how he liked his cup—one sugar, two spoonfuls of powdered creamer.

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