Nightfall starts to descend, and I contemplate my choices for a place to stay. Sure, I’m not swimming in cash. But I do fairly well for myself on a fixed budget. There’s more than enough money on hand if I decide to splurge. However, as I don’t use plastic to avoid a paper trail, it limits my options. My gut tells me that a Four Seasons will probably not allow me to stay without some form of credit to guarantee incidentals. Hell, I’m not sure if a VISA gift card worksfor stuff like that. No sense getting myself into hot water if it doesn’t.
A large sign glows in the distance. The Amelia Island Ritz Carlton.If only.My curiosity gets the best of me, and I head in that direction, knowing full well there’s no way I’ll be able to stay at a place like this. Will it only thrust the knife a little deeper to walk around and see how the other half lives? I slow down, observing the boutique shops and restaurants tucked within the landscape. There are BMWs, Audis, Mercedes, and Range Rovers filling the spaces. “Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.”Maybe I can just stop by the gift shop.
Parking the car, I bite my lip as I grab my bag and exit my vehicle. Everything about this place screams opulence. Ascending the stairs, I smile at the older gentleman and young boy in rocking chairs enjoying an ice cream cone. The door swings open, and I’m met with a scent I can’t quite wrap my head around. It’s very pleasant, with almost a hint of vanilla and lavender.
My eyes ping-pong about the place. There are handmade soaps and candles to the left, picture frames and hand-sewn dish towels in the center, and a glass case to the right containing bakery items. Coming closer, I peruse decadent treats like fudge, brownies and pastries, as well as gourmet candied apples. Something tells me the fudge at Buck-ee’s was probably more to my price point than this place.
I make my way to the left, trying to identify the enchanting scent. I need to have this piped into my salon. There’s something about it that just smells expensive. Ha. A lot of good that would do in Candy Cane Key. They’re happy with peppermint and cinnamon sticks.
As I run my fingers along the soaps, the texture bumpy from dried flowers and seeds within them, I lift several to my nose, close my eyes and inhale, enjoying the luxurious fragrance. I can’t help but imagine the tranquility of sinking into a hot bath, steam rising from its depths, wrapping me in a warm hug of jasmine, lilac, and warm vanilla.
“Well, hello there.”
I jump at the sound of a male voice, my eyes snapping up to spot a familiar face. My spine stiffens, and the hairs on my neck immediatelystand up on end at finding the man who stood behind me at Buck-ee’s earlier.
“Hi.” My mind races at the shock of his presence. I’m too overcome to force any additional words out.
The corner of his mouth tilts up. “Are you following me?”
My brows nearly hit my hairline. “No,” I blurt. My entire body is now on red alert. I try to inhale a calming breath and slowly release it through my nose without making it any more obvious that I’m on edge. With his next words, it’s clear I’ve missed the mark.
The almost arrogantly attractive man takes a step back, throwing his palms up in the air in mock surrender. This is a feat in itself, given his ostentatious wristwatch probably weighs fifty pounds. “It was a joke. Sorry.”
I shake my head vigorously, familiar apprehension causing my voice to quiver. “I’m sorry.”
His cold-eyed smirk holds a note of mockery. Maybe it’s simply my experience with rich men that has me on the razor’s edge of a breakdown. The ones who feel their bank account entitles them to do and say anything. He peers down at me as if he’s come upon a skittish bunny caught in a trap. “Don’t be silly. I probably need to be more considerate of approaching a woman who’s alone,” he says smoothly, no expression on his smug face.
My hackles rise even further. Icy fear sends a chill through my veins. His apology does anything but reassure me. I nervously seek out the least obstructed path to the front door before looking back at him. I’m sure I must look as if I’m running from the police. Get it together before he starts an internet search for crimes in the area. Or worse, detains you, alerting the store owner you seem shifty.
This is crazy, Char. Your nerves are getting the best of you. Chill out. You saw the road we were on. He likely stopped at the same gas station you did on his way to this fancy hotel. I mean, look at him. Unlike you, he fits right in here. Yet, regardless of this fact, I blurt, “I have to go.” Spinning on my heel, I rush for the door as if the fire alarm is going off.
Smooth, Char. Real smooth.No sketchy behavior worthy of attracting unwanted attention here.
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAR
Speeding down the winding road,my eyes repeatedly flick up to check my rearview mirror. I’ve gone much further than I’d planned. Nightfall has descended. Yet any fatigue I’d experienced has been squelched by alarm bells blaring from my encounter with Mr. Richy Rich in the gift shop.
As tempting as it might be to drive through the night, I still need to find a place to stay before it gets too late. And get something to eat. The constant gnawing of my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
Oncoming traffic flies by rhythmically, bright flashes like strobe lights illuminating my peripheral vision. For a brief moment, I’m back there. Fear and betrayal had danced up my spine as I cowered in the backseat of a stranger’s car, headed for lands unknown.
I lift my chin. “Shake it off, Charlene. This is nothing like that. You’re in charge now.”
I drive past a few dive bars and restaurants. Most look pretty sketch. Lots of motorcycles and trucks are parked out front. This wouldn’t intimidate me on my home turf, but here… well, my cage has been rattled enough for one day.
Hmm. The Shed Barbeque & Blues Joint. That doesn’t sound too bad. The blues makes me think there might be a crowd though. As I continue to drive, I see another small place tucked into the trees on the left.The Hog’s Trough.“Man, they certainly like their barbecue around here.”Shaking my head, I attempt to drive a little further, hoping a motel with an eatery close by comes into view.Fat Patty’s?Wonder what that place serves. I chuckle.
Before I can cave and give in to my rumbling belly, my weary eyes land upon a motel with a blinking vacancy sign. Turning into the parking lot, I let out a heavy exhale as I peer out the windshield at the sight in front of me. My forehead wrinkles in disgust. “Guess I’ll be renting a room beside a meth lab or a pay by the hour escort.” But this place has a restaurant right next door. So at least I can quickly grab a bite to eat and hightail it to the hotel for the night if things get weird.
Grabbing my bag, I lock my car and glance up at the sign hanging over the wooden doors to the place.Smokin’ Betty’s.Any guesses what they’re serving up here? “Barbecue it is.” I snort.
Pulling the heavy door open, I barely take two steps inside when all eyes are trained on me. You can hear a pin drop.
Good lord. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
The bartender rushes over. He’s an attractive man. An overly muscled physique with a generous scattering of haphazard tattoos covering his arms. His salt and pepper hair is slicked back. I’d guess he’s in his late forties. “Hi there, sugar. You meetin’ someone here?”
