“Boots?” I repeated.
“The outdoorsy kind. You know, comfortable and sturdy and not attached to a five-inch heel.”
“I know what boots are.” I rolled my eyes, even though I hadn’t been thinking of that kind. “I’m going to work, though. I’m not here for a day trip to…” I eyed the maps app again. “A very large ridge of mountains.” Where in the world was this town? God. I should have really done my research before jumping on that plane. “I plan to dedicate as much time to the Green Warriors as I did to my job for the Flames. Plus, on the off chance that I have some free time, which I won’t, you know that I don’t engage in activities that include the use of Gore-Tex and the risk of falling off a cliff.”
“Oh, but you will.”
I frowned, taking a right on yet another dirt road. “What does that mean?”
The click of keys. Another groan.
My ears popped. God, how high was I? “Matthew, I’m about three seconds away from hanging up on you.”
“All right. What do you want first? The bad news? Or the worse news?”
“There’s no good news?” I asked, squinting my eyes and spotting the intersection I was headed for. I took the turn, the road changing to a mountain trail of sorts. Pebbles started jumping under the tires, hitting the bottom of the rental. I held on to the steering wheel. Tight. This couldn’t be right. I was pretty sure I shouldn’t be driving on a road like this one. The whole car was shaking—vibrating—with the bumps on the road that wasn’t really a road. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Matthew said. And if I had really been listening, I would have heard the urgency in his voice. But I was too busy wondering why this wasn’t a town. I was entering a property tucked into the thick of the woods. The woods.
Matthew continued talking, his words getting lost in my head as I rounded a cabin. A cabin. An honest-to-God cabin with wooden beams and windows looking out at the mass of trees I’d left behind.
This couldn’t be right.
For some unfathomable reason, on my way here, I’d built up this idea in my head. On the plane, I’d convinced myself that I was heading to a North Carolina city—maybe a suburb, which would explain why I hadn’t heard of it. This was an assignment, after all. A philanthropic venture led by an MLS team. It was a serious project in a real town. But I found that hard to believe now.
Whatever place this property was attached to couldn’t be a city. Or a suburb. It didn’t look like there was a large enough town anywhere close, either.
I was surrounded by… nature. Woodland. Slopes covered in emerald greens and coppery browns. I’d driven down dirt roads that had led me to the kind of property I saw advertised as a rustic alpine retreat. There were birds chirping. Leaves rustling. Wind gusting. Silence.
I hated it.
I’d been too careless. Too hasty. I should have checked the location Kelly had sent me before programming it into the maps app. I should have researched. I should have—
“You’ve arrived at your destination,” the female voice of my maps app chanted.
I ignored the clogging sensation at the bottom of my throat and rounded the cabin again, looking for a place to park. There had to be an explanation. A reason. Probably a major town I’d missed coming up a shortcut in the mountains. And, hey, at least the cabin was… tasteful. Most people would be glad to be given the opportunity to escape to such a peaceful place. Mountain-fresh air. Cozy sunsets under a blanket. A porch facing the greenery.
But I wasn’t most people.
I hated the cold. And I didn’t have that strange need to travel across the country in search of fresh air. I liked Miami’s air. The city. The coast. Even the overwhelming heat. My job with the Flames. My life.
My stomach twisted, a ball of nausea climbing up.
Images of Sparkles’s head dropping to the grass flashed behind my eyes.
Breach of contract.
Female rage.
Embarrassing.
You’re a distraction, so I want you to leave Miami.
My palms turned clammy again, the steering wheel feeling slippery. Was the car still moving or had I put it in park?
“Adalyn?” Matthew asked, reminding me he was still there. Had he been talking? “Talk to me.”
But I was too busy trying to focus on whatever was going on in my body. Was this exhaustion? Dehydration? When was the last time I’d had water? Was I PMS-ing? I shook my head. Oh God, was I losing it again? I—