“Just do it.”She smacked his arm.
“For the love of… fine.”Cujo slid down.“This is fucking ridiculous.You get that, right?”
Drea took another photograph.
“What are you doing?”Cujo asked.
“Evidence.”
“Of what, him parking his car?”
“I don’t know.”Zero security.Crappy old car.Isolated location.Something didn’t add up.
A black Lincoln Navigator turned in front of the truck, coming to rest alongside the governor’s car.A rotund man got out.The hallway of the hotel.Drea immediately recognized him.“He was the security guy outside Henderson’s room when I took room service up.”
“Wait,” Cujo whispered.“When did you take room service to them?”
Damn.She hadn’t told him.
“It was the night Mom died,” she replied quietly.When he’d not been there.
Cujo took her hand, then pulled it to his lips.
Security guy handed Jacobs a brown envelope.He opened it, thumbing through the contents.Money?Documents?They were too far away to see.
Drea snapped more photographs.Security guy turned their way, shielding his sunglass-covered eyes.
Cujo pulled her hand down.“The sun must be reflecting on it,” he said.
Now walking toward them, he gestured to the governor to get back in his car.
“Fuck.”Cujo sat up.The truck revved, sending gravel spitting out behind them as he careened onto the road.He looked back in the rearview mirror.“He might have caught the plates.”
“Oh shit.”
“Yeah.What kind of trouble have you got us into now, Velma?”
***
Cujo loaded the last of their belongings into the truck.He secured the paddleboards, checking the bungee cords one last time.He pulled the cover over and tightened everything down.
Dark clouds loomed on the horizon.Bad weather was coming, and Cujo wanted to be out ahead of the storm.Two hours of driving in torrential rain was not his idea of fun.
Drea was inside, emailing the photographs of the governor to Detective Carter.They’d decided that oversharing to the point of appearing paranoid was better than keeping information back that may prove crucial.He’d left her typing the message, but the territorial part of him wanted to take the phone from her hands and read what she had written to him.Fucking, Carter.It didn’t help that the guy was a good cop.He wanted to hate him.
Just as he was about to go and chase her out, Drea walked down the steps, dragging her fingertips along the smooth handrail.Her hair was tied in a messy knot, and she was wearing his red flannel shirt over a white T-shirt and tiny denim shorts.Sexy as fuck.At the bottom, she turned to look back at the cottage.
He approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.“I’ll miss this place,” he said before kissing the side of her neck.She smelled so good, and he thought back to earlier that morning.They’d nearly broken the tiny shower, but who knew Drea’s legs were so flexible.
She leaned back against him, putting her hands over his.“Me, too.It was good for us.”
It had been.They talked at length of inconsequential things, like the Heat’s chances of winning another title without LeBron, and heart-wrenchingly important things, like Drea’s therapy.She’d shared deeply personal pieces of what she’d learned about herself.He’d told her about his fears of never becoming a father, something he’d only just admitted to himself.Perhaps it was time to face that fear head-on, put his big-boy pants on, and get tested.
She turned in his arms, rose up on her toes, and kissed him quickly.A smile so vibrant it was contagious graced her features.The excitement of a future with this woman swept through him.
“Thank you for arranging this,” she said.
He kissed her again, just as large drops of rain started to pelt them.She wiggled against him, but he held her there, their lips locked firmly together.The rain started to fall harder.
