“How are you even in contact with them?” Wyatt demands.
“Oh, Little Spencer slid into my DMs.”
“I don’t like this.”
“Which part?”
“Any of it,” he says in exasperation. “Random men DMing you. Luring you onto their boat by inviting you on a very suspicious hike—”
“Why is it suspicious? We’re just visiting Darlie and Raymond’s tree near the Loughlin place.”
“The sex tree?” Wyatt sounds outraged.
“Yeah.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re letting two grown men whisk you away by boat so you can hike up a cliff to visit a tree where the ghost who haunts our dock used to fuck her lover before he left her for her sister? You are literallybeggingto get murdered.”
I lean in to pat him on the arm. “You know, if you and my dad entered an overprotective competition, I honestly don’t know who would win. Same goes for who’s crazier.”
Wyatt clenches his jaw. “Give me five minutes to throw on some real clothes.”
“You’re not coming with us,” I protest.
He’s already stalking toward the house. “Yes, I am.”
“You said you have to write today—”
“I’ll write later,” he says over his shoulder.
The Spencers pick us up in their rented speedboat and make no effort to hide the fact that they’re checking Wyatt out as he climbs on board. I don’t blame them one iota. He’s wearing khaki shorts, hiking boots, and a tight white T-shirt that hugs his abs, and with his sunglasses on and a baseball cap shielding his face, he looks like some kind of edible adventure boy.
It’s hard to talk over the wind, so I lean back and enjoy the watermisting my face as the boat bounces on the waves. Less than fifteen minutes later, Big Spencer slows as we approach a little cove shaded by towering pines. A small dock juts from the rocky shore, and he carefully glides up beside it while Little Spencer hops onto the rickety wooden platform and ties us off.
Wyatt jumps out next and extends his hand to me. I take it, ignoring the jolt of electricity that travels through me. I hate how much he affects me. Stupid pheromones.
“It’s just up here,” Little Spencer says when we’re all on land. He’s sporting another Mollie May shirt today, this one sky-blue with fringe around the hem because Mollie May wears fringed costumes at all her shows.
“You’ve been here before?” I say as we follow them toward the opening of the path.
“A few times. We spent the night last week.”
“Really?” I say in surprise.
Big Spencer nods. “Camped right under the tree. We thought maybe she’d want to return to her lover.”
“Of course,” Wyatt says solemnly. “Who wouldn’t.”
Little Spencer rolls his eyes. “It’s okay, handsome. You don’t have to be a believer.”
“You camped here? But isn’t this private property?” I ask.
“Not the tree,” Big Spencer says smugly. “We pulled all the county surveys to check the property lines. Loughlin land ends a half mile east of the tree.”
We trek up the path, which is only wide enough for two people to walk side by side. The Spencers prove to be surprisingly athletic, bounding ahead of us. Wyatt and I follow behind, silently navigating overgrown roots and pushing away branches that hang too low on the trail.
It isn’t until the Spencers are out of earshot that Wyatt glances over and lowers his voice. “So about last night.”
“Oh,” I say brightly, “are we finally going to talk about how you almost kissed me?”
