Page 8

His knees bend and he arches back, barking out a laugh. Ava jabs him with her elbow and I give her a grateful smile. “Oh mate, I’m sorry, that sucks.”

“Thanks, buddy.” His laugh rings out as I make my way to the front door.

“Hey, whenever you’re done playing grave keeper you should come by!” he yells, and I throw my middle finger overhead before exiting.

Taylor

I might needto be buried here.

There’s a real possibility that I’ll die before I travel internationally again. One delayed flight caused me to miss my connecting flight, which ended up with me sleeping in an airport chair for six hours. A few delayed flights couldn’t get me down, though, so the universe made damn sure that I missed the last bus as well.

“Business or pleasure?”

Neither. I’m wet and freezing. It’s the middle of the night, and I went through all my snacks before my first flight ever took off. My teeth chatter uncontrollably and the man driving the‘cab’looks at me through his rearview mirror. Outside, the only thing breaking up the sheer black of night is the heavy raindrops splattering on the window.

Shit.I could very well be getting taken to the middle of nowhere right now.

“Pleasure.” I fix the driver with the most intense stare I can muster. “I’m actually meeting my dad,” I lie. His eyes flirt between the road in front of him—which he must know well, considering there’s no way he can see anything—andmy reflection in the mirror. “And my brothers,” I add. “All four of them.” He smiles, nodding his head. “They just got back from a hunting trip.”

“Hunting, huh? That’s interesting.”

“Yeah, I think it’s unfair to the bears really because my dad and brothers are so big.” I hold my arms out wide the way I usually do when I want to measure if something will fit in a new space. “Thirty-two feet tall between the five of them. Oh sorry, that’s my dad calling now.” I press my phone to my ear, saying a silent prayer that no one actually calls to interrupt my ruse. “Hi, Dad!” I pause listening to nothing but my own heavy breathing. “Yup, I’m on my way.” I tilt the phone away from my face and look at the cab driver again. “How much further? My dad wants to know,” I ask him.

“‘Bout half a mile,” he says, still smiling.

“Oh perfect. What’s that, Dad? You’re all standing outside, cleaning your hunting rifles?”Pause.I swear I briefly see the man laugh.

“Alright, Miss America. We’re here.” I ignore his comment and press my face to the window. Again, nothing but darkness.

“Here—where?”

“This is as far as I go.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, forgetting about my fake phone call.

“The road to the inn is a dirt one. Once it starts raining like this, the whole thing turns to mud. If I drive up there, I won’t be able to get out.”

“Umm, sir. You expect me to get out in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm, and carry all my luggage through a mud road?”

“Of course not.”Whew.I all but wipe at my forehead inrelief. “Call your brothers to come down and help you,” he says, smiling at me through the mirror.Fuck. Me.

My options are limited at this point. I either risk it with this stranger in an unmarked cab or take my chances alone, in the dead of night, in a country I’ve never been to, during a torrential downpour. “Thanks for your help,” I mumble before taking a deep inhale. I give a curt nod and throw my door open.

My eyes squeeze shut against a freezing gust of wind that smacks me in the face, and already, the prospect of getting abducted seems better than this. I look once more at the driver, the lights in the car now on, and I can clearly see him for the first time. He’s younger than I originally thought but he’s actually kind of cute, if not a little boyish. But also, he can kick rocks for leaving me here.

My white slip-ons are immediately soaked and filthy as I run to the trunk and pull out my bags. With the thud of the trunk, he makes a U-turn and drives off, and I’m left standing at the bottom of a hill, looking up toward a soft glow in the distance. I pull my jean jacket over my head and it does fuck all to protect me from the wind and rain. I stack my duffle bag on top of my suitcase, grab the handle, and make it all of one step before the bag goes tumbling down.Fuck me.I kick my suitcase over, letting out something between a groan and a yell, and allow myself nine seconds—which feels like forever in this downpour—to have a pity party.Relax.I take a breath, drop my shoulders, and drape my duffle bag across my body.You’re fine. Annoyed, but fine.With another breath, I grab my suitcase once more and begin pulling it through the mud.

In the movies, the main character always just appears in a new country. Fresh face, shiny hair. Cue the montage of the beauty all around her. She’s smiling from ear to ear. Shesmells new foods for the first time. Someone rides past her on a bike or a moped. And when she least expects it, as she’s looking down at her map, the smoking-hot love interest appears to help her. And yet here I am, dragging one hundred pounds of baggage through shit soup.

I reach the wood-covered porch and shake myself off like a dog. Water comes out by the gallon when I squeeze my hair out and ring my shirt. I pause with my hand on the door, horrified that this is potentially the first impression I’m going to make, but my other option is to turn around and go home.

The room’s warmth immediately engulfs me when I step inside. A fire dances to my right in what looks like the original stone hearth that takes up a majority of the wall. Built-in bookshelves and vintage framed paintings and photographs with no rhyme or reason decorate the other walls. The room is warm, and inviting. Clean but not sterile. I spin around wanting to absorb every square inch of the space. Beautiful, rich dark woods, flowers in equally colorful ceramic vases, antique furniture draped in handmade plush quilts—I’ve officially stepped inside a Nancy Meyers movie.

“Nova?” My head swivels around quickly looking for the source of that deep gravelly voice. I sidestep around the stairs almost tripping over my discarded luggage in the process andholy shit,it looks like my night might be turning around. “Nova?” he asks again. My breath is lodged in my throat as a rugged version of Aquaman raises his eyebrows at me, likely wondering why I can’t speak or maybe why I look like a drowned rat.

“How did you know my name?”

“Well unless you used an alias to book your reservation, you’re the only Nova I have on my schedule who was supposed to check in this morning but didn’t.”