She blinks and straightens. “Oh! Right.”
I turn the steering wheel sharply.
“And then it’s just another mile,” she says. “Wildhaven Storm will be on the left.”
I glance sideways at her and find myself smiling.
The road curves again.
And then the iron gate appears. I take the left onto the long gravel drive.
Lights suddenly appear in the distance. Not the soft porch light glow I expected from a ranch house.
No.
This looks like a damn festival.
String lights hanging between fence posts and in the trees.
A massive bonfire burns bright enough to be seen from the road.
Music drifts through the open night air.
People are everywhere. Dozens of them milling around between the white ranch house and the barn.
The scent hits me next.
Smoke.
Charred meat sizzling.
“What in the world?” Harleigh says.
I slow the Escalade, pulling off the gravel into the grass and coming to a stop just short of the firepit.
A long iron grill sits near the barn entrance with a man flipping slabs of beef.
Someone’s laughing loudly by a table lined with Styrofoam coolers.
Two women suddenly break off from the rest and sprint toward us.
One blonde.
One brunette.
They run full speed, straight for the Escalade, like they’ve been waiting for us to arrive.
I lower the passenger window instinctively.
As soon as it’s halfway down, they both shove their faces into the cab.
“Surprise!” they yell in perfect unison.
Harleigh jerks back in her seat.
“Surprise for what?” she asks.
The brunette beams. “For you!” She gestures wildly behind her. “It’s your do-over party!”
