H:
sigh.
H:
fine.
H:
see you soon.
The driveto her place takes about the same time as from the Jacksonville airport to Amelia Island but in the opposite direction. I knew she lived elsewhere, but I didn’t think it was this close. Maybe I should have researched a little more. The blue sign on the road welcomes me to Baker Oaks, and in no time, the taxi is pulling up to a quaint, green house featuring a small porch with two white wooden rocking chairs. There’s a beautiful wreath with gold and silver stars decorating the door and a large doormat that says, "Did you bring food for my bird?”
How is it that I’ve known Hailey for three years, and I didn’t know she had a bird? I chuckle at myself; of course I don’t know everything about the girl I’ve seen and kissed three times. Sure, we’ve fucked twice, and she also happens to be my pen pal . . . but why does it feel more nauseating than the first time I jumped from a helicopter to think about knocking on her door?
“Is this it?” the driver says. Fuck, the taxi.
“Yes, here. Thank you.” I pass him a tip and get out, carrying my bags all the way to the door.
Taking a deep breath, I knock on her door and wait for the nausea to subside, just like it always does when I enter the water after jumping headfirst. Is this what I’m doing here? Jumping into deep waters without knowing if I’ll be able to keep us both afloat?
The door opens, and I let out a laugh—though Little Miss Sass crosses her arms and doesn’t laugh with me.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, but how do I tell her she looks like a mix between Kim Possible and Mrs. Incredible right now without offending her?
“Did they change the theme for the gala tonight to SWAT attire?” I try to contain my laughter but fail miserably.
“Oh, this?” She rakes her hands over her body. “We have a mission before the gala, and I thought you’d be the perfect person for it, considering you rescue people for a living.”
“What?” I ask her, utterly confused.
“Get with the program, Ash. Come on!” Her little feet stomp the opposite way, disappearing into the house and carrying short, exasperated sounds with her. Damn, she’s cute.
Stepping into her home is like a slap in the face. It’s one hundred percent like I expected it to be, but somehow the opposite too.
It’s tidy.
Beyondtidy.
Everything has a place, and I can tell just after stepping through the foyer covered in books. The long corridor takes me to where she stands in the middle of a white and sage green kitchen. Everything matches—except the collection of assorted mugs in the coffee station.
Even the open cage in the back with a beautiful bird on top of it is tidy.
She must catch me staring, because she says, “That’s Bijoux. She’s friendly, but we don’t have time. Do you want coffee? I can make some to go.”
“To go? Where are we going?” I’m sure I look puzzled, because she gives me herI’m annoyedlook.
“We need to rescue the birds, so get dressed and don’t wear anything flashy.”
Maybe it's not having any self-preservation, or maybe it’s the fact that she’s haunted my every interaction for the past year, but I don’t ask. I just do as I’m told. I let my bag fall to the floor and remove my shirt with one hand.
Hailey stops pacing and opens her gray eyes wide. “What are you doing? We have to go!”
“Changing into a darker shirt so I can match your freak.” I smile, and she rolls her eyes.
“Sometimes, I forget you’re so young. Match my freak? Is that what young people say nowadays?” She points down the hall to a closed door.
“That’s the guest room if you want to change. I know you said you had extra days off, and I don’t know if you have any plans, but that room has your name written all over it if you want to crash here.”
