Page 3 of Only for the Season

“You’ve reached Eli Raider.”

I hit disconnect. His voicemail won’t give me directions to his house.

I whirl the car around and drive toward Smuggler’s Rest – the town I drove through when I first arrived on the island. Someone there must know Eli and where he lives. The place isn’t very big after all. And Eli is a billionaire.

When I arrive at the main shopping street, I notice most of the stores are already closed. I search for any business with its lights on. Aha! There.

I park in front of the building.Pirate’s Pastries.Is everything on this island pirate or mermaid themed?

I frown when I reach the door. The lights are on, but the sign says ‘closed’.

I knock on the door. I wait but when no one answers, I knock again and shout, “Hello! Is anyone in there?”

The door behind the counter swings open, and a woman hurries out. Her cheeks are flushed, flour dusts her hair like a scattering of snow, and the messy pile of hair on top of her head shows off the graceful line of her neck and the sharp cut of her cheekbones. As she comes closer, I notice the clear, bright blue of her eyes and the playful tilt of her nose.

My gaze drops to her body. She has curves for days. Another man might think she’s chubby, but I think she’s perfect. Things are looking up.

She points to the sign. “We’re closed.”

“I just have a question.”

“If it’s about your order, it’ll be ready on time.”

“It’s not about an order.”

She plants her hands on her hips. “What’s it about?”

I point to the door. “Can you open this up?”

She frowns. “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

“No.”

“Then, you should understand why I’m not opening up the door to a strange man I’ve never met before.”

“I’m not here to hurt you.”

“Said by every man in the world seconds before he decides to hurt someone. Usually a woman.”

“Fine,” I grumble. “Can you give me directions to Eli Raider’s house?”

Her eyes narrow. “Do you know Eli?”

“He’s my friend.” I’m not telling her my name. I don’t need another woman to fall all over me because of my money. Been there. Done that. Have the t-shirt to prove it.

“Sorry, friend, I can’t give you directions.”

“You don’t know where he lives?”

“Not what I said.”

“I have his address. I just need directions because apparently, GPS doesn’t work on this Podunk island.”

“If we’re such a Podunk island, you’ll be able to find his house on your own.”

“I tried. A sheep tried to kill me and then some sheep herder sent me to an amusement park.”

She giggles, and despite how annoyed I am, I can’t help but think the sound is lovely. “Call Eli. If you’re such good friends, he’ll give you directions.”