She squeezes my hand. “What if I want to stay in it?”
“You’ll have to have your people check out when it’s not booked. It’s very popular. As you’d expect of a place called Bear Cottage.”
Her smile lights the entire freaking morning.
“High five, Cedar Chalet,” I call to my next rental property down the way.
“Did you buy out locals when you bought your mountain?” Waverly asks.
I shake my head. “Nope. They were mostly weekend getaways. All those people in the city have no idea what they were doing giving up their weekend properties to me.”
“I heard Grady and Tillie Jean saying that you owning a whole mountain is bad for your ego.”
“Waverly, be real. There are very, very few things in life that can ding my ego.”
She laughs through the last two switchbacks, and there’s one more driveway.
“High five, Beck Ryder’s house,” I call to one of the few properties I don’t own.
“High five, Cooper, you magnificent beast,” I reply to myself in my best Beck Ryder impersonation.
Waverly laughs so hard she snorts coffee out her nose.
Good timing, because I’m slowing down to turn into my driveway, except my driveway isn’t there, and now I’m slamming on the brakes, angled hard in the middle of the road, staring at my mailbox.
Waverly coughs. “Cooper?”
“Hold on a second,” I murmur. “You okay?”
“Gonna live.”
She’d better. It’s more or less the first time I’ve been allowed to drive her anywhere myself. And yeah, Kiva and the Scotts are in an SUV right behind us, but we’realone.
In a car.
With me driving.
Except I can’t find my driveway.
“Is there a reason we’re stopped?” Waverly asks.
“This is…my house.”
She looks at me.
Then at the mailbox, which is definitely there.
Then back at me.
“My driveway is supposed to be here,” I say.
Shit.
Am I losing my mind?
Where my driveway belongs, there’s no driveway. It’s undergrowth and a giant pine tree and fallen leaves and—
“Oh,fuck.”
