Page 50 of Hotshot Mogul

Anneliese’s dress. I had clutched it in my fists, close to my face, to keep her scent, while she was gone. I didn’t let it go, not once, while I waited.

“Er, there’s nothing out here. I mean nada, zilch, zippo.” Rufus snickered. “Only branches and these damn purple feathers. The wind must have taken them—your stuff, I mean.”

“Deer turds.” Anneliese’s cheeks flushed pink, so beautiful. “The wicked fairy. She took them. I know it. I thought she had changed…”

“We brought water, juice boxes, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” Callie said. “The storm knocked the power out. Everything is closed. We’ll just leave these outside the passenger door. Oh, Anneliese, I’ve got your suitcase. I’ll leave it here, too. Maybe there’s something in there that would work for Bruce. I’m so glad you’re back, dear.”

“I’ve got my work apron, Bruce,” Callie said. “Maybe you could do something with that…” She broke off, laughing.

Anneliese’s giggle sounded like little bells. “Uh, we’ll leave you to it, Hotshot,” Rufus laughed. I waited one, two, then three minutes after they drove away to open the door.

I slid out, naked, handed Anneliese some water and juice, and guzzled a bottle of water myself.

“Ooops!” Birders, half a dozen wearing sun hats and carrying binoculars, stood and stared.

“Brucey?”

Mom and Dad. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I grabbed the bag of sandwiches, held it in front of me, hopped back inside the vehicle, and shut the door partway.

“Honey, you weren’t answering your phone or texts,” Mom said outside the door, sounding worried.

Anneliese wrapped her arms around my chest from behind and rested her chin on my shoulder. My tension melted. We were safe. Anneliese was here, with me, after the worst four days in my life. I would never let her go.

“My suitcase and clothes are gone, that’s all,” I said. “We’re good, otherwise.”

“I’ve got running clothes in the trunk,” Dad chuckled. “They could use a wash, but…”

I leaned back into Anneliese’s nude, glorious body, greedy and selfish, savoring this moment. Anneliese had her clothes. She had to get dressed.

I twisted around to capture her soft lips in a too-fast kiss. “I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” she said, loud enough for Mom to hear, if she was out there.

I had to focus on getting her into her clothes. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Could you put Anneliese’s suitcase and purse inside, on the passenger seat? And the drinks and sandwiches?”

“Of course.”

I had shut my parents out of my life because of Diana’s actions—casting blame for Diana’s death and everything on Dad. Thank fuck I’d pulled my head out of my ass.

“Love you, Mom.” My voice cracked. “You’re the best.”

“Love you, too, Brucey,” she sniffed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Bruce

Two months later

The line to get into Silver Lake State Park moved fast. August steam swirled around the mounds of white sugar sand. The blazing sun slipped lower and lower in an unreal summer sky. There was half an hour before sunset on Lake Michigan. I’d timed this over and over so the sun would be setting when I pulled out the…

“Next?”

Anneliese touched my arm. Zing. It was still as if we were connected by live wires. She smiled, so beautiful it made my heart ache. Her honey-colored, wavy hair hung a bit above her shoulders, not quite as long as when we first met. At my request, she wore the same sundress that she’d worn the first time I saw her clutching a clipboard with a petition to stop my development. The dress hung to her ankles. She had the most beautiful ankles I’d ever seen.

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