On my way to my truck, I thumbed out a text to Everly to see if she was home. It didn’t matter if she was or not. I could let myself in with my key, fix what needed fixing, and be gone before she even knew I was there.
8:52 p.m.
You home?
The dots didn’t immediately pop up, so I placed my toolbox in the truck bed and climbed into the cab. I’d just turned my key in the ignition when my phone buzzed with a text.
8:53 p.m.
Not exactly. I’m at the clinic. Mrs. Farmington’s
dog decided he was very hungry for socks
today. Gonna be here a while. What’s up?
8:53 p.m.
Nothing. Do your thing.
Then, I added:
8:54 p.m.
And text me after you get home and
actually lock your doors.
I tossed my phone in the passenger’s seat and headed toward town and to Everly’s place. Either she’d see my truck in her driveway since the clinic was attached to her house, or she’d come home and find all her shit fixed and know I’d been there.
I pulled into the driveway of the tri-level home, the single story of which served as the clinic. After grabbing my toolbox out of the truck bed, I strolled up to the back door. The light in the kitchen was on, but that didn’t mean anything. Whenever there was an emergency, she left in a flurry with little thought. I’d gotten many a text as she was heading into surgery, asking me to turn off her curling iron or to check to see if her gas stove was still on or to blow out a candle she’d left burning. She was going to give me a goddamn heart attack one of these days. She also rarely remembered to lock her door, which I’d snapped at her about more than once. I didn’t care if our crime rate was comically low. It wasn’tnone.
I tried the knob, anticipating the worst but, thankfully, found it locked. Usually, the sound of keys was enough for her dog to absolutely lose her shit and come running, so I was surprised and a little on guard when I let myself in to no greeting—exuberant or otherwise. Everly didn’t usually bring Chuck over to the clinic when she performed surgeries, but maybe she’d made an exception tonight.
I closed the door behind me and set my toolbox on the counter, checking first to make sure the stove was off—check—before scanning the place for anything out of the ordinary. My gaze automatically bypassed the person sitting at her kitchen table before snapping back, and my shoulders stiffened.
A man around my age stared back at me, brows raised, wearing nothing but a pair of goddamn basketball shorts, his dark brown hair wet like he’d just gotten out of the shower.
“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, glancing around to make sure Everly wasn’t here and in trouble, never mind that her text had just confirmed she was at the clinic. When it came to her, I wasn’t always known for thinking rationally.
I’d lived in Starlight Cove my entire life, and thus I knew each and every resident within. Knew their families, too, and their friends, and their friends’ friends. And running the diner meant I knew even those strays who didn’t reside here but just stepped foot in our little town, and I’d never seen this fucker before a day in my life.
With a spoonful of cereal halfway to his mouth, Fucker gave me a once-over, quickly disregarding my backward baseball hat, plain gray T-shirt, and worn jeans. “I’m Sebastian. Who the fuck are you?”
Sebastian, Sebastian… Why did I recognize that—
I narrowed my eyes on him. That’d been the name I’d seen on Everly’s texts last night. Before yesterday, I hadn’t heard a single thing about this guy, and now suddenly,Sebastianwas texting her and hanging out in her home while she wasn’t there, showering, and eating a bowl of cereal like he owned the damn place? “How’d you get in here?”
“Everly, obviously.” Then, under his breath, he said, “They don’t grow ’em smart around here, do they?”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I said,” he enunciated, louder than necessary, “how’dyouget in?”
“My key.” I pulled my ring from my pocket and held it up. That’s right. I had a key to her place. One I used enough that I’d just added it to my own set. What’d he think of that?
He glanced to the toolbox on the counter, then regarded me with raised brows. “I didn’t realize she gave the handyman free entrance to her home.”
I clenched my jaw, irritation getting the better of me. “I’m not thehandyman. I’m her—” I cut myself off, for some reason not wanting to admit to this cockmuppet that I was just her friend. So instead, I settled on another truth. “I’m the guy she calls when she needs help.”
