“What?”
“How long do you plan on staying?”
I grin. “Trying to get rid of me already?”
“No, although I’m sure the mice staying in the guesthouse will do that for me.”
“Mice?” My eyes widen.
“A whole family of them.” She has an extra special glint in her eyes.
I shrug like the idea of mice doesn’t repulse me. “No problem. Merlin will love the challenge.”
“Who’s Merlin?”
“My cat.”
Her head tips to the side. “You have a cat?”
“Surprised?”
“That you can take care of a living, breathing organism? Absolutely.” She delivers her venom-coated words with a vicious smile that does wonders for my dick. Blood flows directly to the source, making the front of my pants uncomfortably tight.
I reach for the keys again, but she clutches them in a tight fist.
“Wait.”
“Why? So you can insult me some more?”
She takes a deep breath. “I have one thing to ask of you.”
“What?” I quit tapping my foot.
“Don’t talk about selling the house when Cami is here.”
My forehead scrunches. “She doesn’t know?”
“Nope, and I plan on keeping it that way.” Her gaze drops toward her glossy red toenails.
What are you hiding, Lana?
“She’s going to find out eventually, especially when I’m packing stuff into boxes,” I press.
Her jaw ticks. “How I handle things with my daughter is none of your business.”
“Fine. I won’t tell Cami about the house. But if she asks me questions—”
She doesn’t bother letting me finish my sentence. “Deflect like you always do. It’s one of the few things you’re actually good at.”
“I seem to remember you thinking I was good at more than just that.” I fight my frown with a smile, although her words pierce at what little confidence I have left.
Her nostrils flare as her cheeks turn pink. She all but launches the keys directly at my face before slamming the door shut.
Totally worth it.
Lana is a filthy liar. I checked the guesthouse twice for any mice and didn’t find a single critter. The house is in far better condition than I thought it would be in after being abandoned for a few years. My grandfather built it for any visitors long after he moved in, so the modest 1,100-square-foot floor plan is more modern compared to the main house. With three bedrooms and its own private dock, it’s the perfect hideaway.
I let Merlin out of his crate and set up his litter box and water bowl before spending the entire day cleaning the house from top to bottom. Although I considered hiring a crew to help me, I decided to do it myself to keep my mind busy. It’s not like I have a job or any real responsibilities besides completing my part of the will.
I lose track of time. It’s not until my stomach growls that I finally stop cleaning and drive into town for dinner. Most of the restaurants are closed already, so I’m left with only one option.
The diner.
The bell above me rings as I open the door.
“You again?” Isabelle sighs from behind the counter. A couple of people turn in their barstools to search for whom she is talking to, only to glare once their eyes land on me.
“Nice to see you too, Isabelle.”
“The feeling isn’t mutual.” She walks toward the hostess stand at the front of the diner.
“You know, I’m starting to think small towns aren’t as sweet and charming as people make them out to be.”
“Oh, we are…to anyone but you.”
“You wound me.” I rub at the spot above my heart with a pout.
She smacks my head with one of the menus before showing me to a corner booth toward the back. There are only a few people seated throughout the place, all of whom watch me take my seat.
“What can I get you to drink, Hal?” She taps her notepad with the tip of her pen.
“It’s Cal.”
“Stick around for long enough this time and maybe eventually I’ll get it right.”
“Is that the reason why you hate me now?”
Her lips turn down. “I don’t hate you.”
“Are you sure?”
“My momma raised me better than to hate anyone, including trust fund babies like you.”
My head tilts. “Then why do you dislike me?”
“For the same reason a majority of the town does.”
Well, at least she’s honest. “Is it because of my drinking?”
She scoffs. “No, although that doesn’t help matters.”
“Then what?”
“It’s because you broke Alana’s heart.”
My smile slips.
“We’re a small town here. When one of us hurts, we all do.” She tilts her head in the direction of a man gliding into the diner on an electric wheelchair. “When Fred struggled to afford a new wheelchair, we all chipped in to buy him a fancy electric one.” She points her pen at a woman wiping the countertop with a rag. “Betsy there married a rich out-of-towner with a heavy fist and the inability to understand the word no. And do you know what we did to him?”
“Chopped him up into little pieces and spread his remains across the forest?”
Her lips twitch. “We wish. Wyatt and the new sheriff keep us in line, so we were forced to go about things the legal way. Drove him out of town by hiring a fancy lawyer from the big city. Everyone pitched in to pay the fee, and it was worth every penny because now Betsy and her kids are free to live their lives.”
I swallow hard. “That’s good.”
“Bottom line is that we look after our own here. If Alana doesn’t want you around, then who are we to make you feel comfortable?”
My lips press together.
“It’s no sweat off our backs after we saw what happened to Alana the last time you left.”
Fuck.
My stomach rolls, the acid climbing up my throat.
You need to get out of here.
My eyes flicker to the door.
Isabelle steps into my eye line, forcing me to look up at her.
“We’re the ones who had to watch Alana struggle with heartbreak the last time you left. She stopped going out, lost weight, and barely spent time around anyone besides her mama and two best friends. It was like she was fading away before our very eyes. Not that she would ever tell you that because that girl is too sweet for someone like you.”
Desperation to escape claws at my throat. I reach for the flask in my pocket, only to pause when Isabelle catches the movement.
Her brow arches. “I’m not sure why you’re back or what you want with our girl, but the whole town will be watching closely. One slipup and you will wish you never returned.”
My tongue feels heavy against the roof of my mouth. “I’m not here to hurt her.”
“For your sake, you better hope not. I’ll be back with a water.” She turns away, leaving me to process everything she said.
My eyes screw shut as I fight the urge to take a sip from my flask.
You don’t need to drink every time someone says something you don’t like.
My hands tremble against my lap.
Alcohol won’t change your reality.