Page 41

A louder crack of thunder finally broke us apart, and we looked up to find the sky had darkened dramatically. The few remaining beachgoers were hurriedly packing up, casting wary glances at the approaching storm front.

“Looks like we’re in for some weather,” I murmured, reluctant to break the moment but increasingly aware of the strengthening wind.

From a nearby blanket, a portable radio crackled. “...unexpected storm surge warning for coastal Los Angeles. Residents and visitors are advised to seek higher ground...”

“Maybe we should head back,” Tempest said, though she made no move to leave the circle of my arms.

I nodded, pressing one more quick kiss to her lips. “Dinner first? I saw a cute place right up from the beach.”

She smiled, lacing her fingers through mine. “Lead the way, Kingman.”

Hand in hand, we trudged back up the beach as the first fat raindrops began to fall, each one a cold shock against my sun-warmed skin.

The darkening sky and approaching storm should have felt ominous, but with Tempest’s hand in mine, all I felt was possibility stretching out before us, as vast and deep as the ocean itself.

“I think,” Tempest said, peering out from under the restaurant’s awning at the sheets of rain now pounding the beachfront, “we might have a problem.”

What had started as a few threatening clouds had escalated with alarming speed into a full-blown storm.

Wind howled down the streets, bending palm trees at alarming angles and sending beach umbrellas tumbling like colorful tumbleweeds.

The restaurant staff had started boarding up windows as we approached, and closed their doors for the storm.

“We’re closing early for safety,” the manager explained. “The storm surge warning has been upgraded to an emergency.”

I glanced at my phone, wincing at the multiple missed calls from both Dad and Gryff. A text from Dad flashed on the screen.

Dad: Where are you? Let me know you and Tempest are safe.

I quickly texted him back letting him know we were together, near the beach, and safe.

We would be anyway. I grabbed Tempest’s hand. “Let’s try to get an Uber back to one of our hotels.”

Water already pooled ankle-deep on the sidewalk, rushing down the sloped street toward the beach. The rain was coming down in near-horizontal sheets, the wind so strong it was difficult to stand upright .

Did California get hurricanes? I thought it was just earthquakes. What the actual fuck?

I tapped on my phone, but the rideshare app showed no available cars. “Everyone’s trying to get to safety at once,” I murmured, tucking Tempest under the minimal shelter.

“We have to find some place to get inside.” Tempest shivered against me. “But I don’t think we can walk. My hotel is at least two miles away. Where’s yours?”

“Let’s try finding somewhere closer,” I said, my protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “There are restaurants and businesses all along this strip.”

Tempest’s teeth were chattering despite my arm around her shoulders. I needed to get her somewhere safe and warm, now.

The manager headed toward his car and I ran out into the rain after him. “Can we get a ride? We’re really stuck, man.”

“I gotta get home to my kids, but there’s a small place, Inanna and Kur’s Cabins, about three blocks inland,” he said after a moment. “On higher ground. Old school place, separate cabins instead of rooms. Might be worth trying.”

I returned to Tempest. “I have a lead. Three blocks that way, up the hill. Think you can make it?”

She nodded, determination replacing the fear in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

We half ran, half waded through the flooded streets, holding tight to each other against the buffeting wind. By the time we spotted the faded “Inanna and Kur’s Cabins” sign, we were both soaked to the skin, water streaming from our clothes and hair .

The office was dimly lit, an elderly man wearing a rainbow Hawaiian style shirt and a twinkle in his eyes peering out as we approached, looking unsurprised by our bedraggled appearance.

“Hurry you two, get your butts in here.” he said, opening the door. “Stranded by this storm?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded, water dripping from my hair onto the worn linoleum floor. “Any chance you have a room for us?”

Tempest shivered beside me and I was fully prepared to give over my life savings to this guy for a hot shower and some warm blankets for her.

The old man, Kur, according to his nametag, shook his head slowly. “My cabins are full up. But the people for number eight, haven’t shown up yet, and I don’t suppose they’re likely to in this weather.” He eyed us appraisingly. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“We’ll take it,” I said, pulling out my wallet.

Kur handed over an actual key, not a keycard, attached to a massive wooden fob. “Power’s gonna be spotty in this storm. Got extra blankets and lanterns in there. Might be a long night.”

“Thanks,” I said, handing over my credit card. “We appreciate it.”

As Kur processed the payment, I called my dad real quick. “We’re safe. Bunkering down at someplace called Inanna and Kur’s Cabins.”

“Take care of each other.” The concern in his voice was evident. “You two are more important than any football team or meeting, understood? The Bandits will still be interested tomorrow. ”

“Yes, sir,” I said, oddly touched by his immediate acceptance of us as a unit, a “we” that needed protection.

Kur handed back my card with a knowing look that I pretended not to see. “Cabin eight, up the path to the right. Highest point on the property. Should stay dry no matter how bad this gets.”

We thanked him and stepped back out into the storm, my arm protectively around Tempest as we made our way up the waterlogged path. The cabin, when we reached it, was exactly as advertised—small, somewhat shabby, but mercifully dry and on solid ground well above the flooding below.

I unlocked the door, both of us practically falling inside as a gust of wind pushed at our backs. The interior was simple. A small bathroom, a chair in the corner, and a tiny table with a battery-powered lantern, and a little gift basket with a bottle of wine and some fruit and nuts.

And one bed.

One, barely bigger than my ass, bed.

“Home sweet home,” I said, trying for levity as we stood dripping on the worn carpet.

Tempest’s breath came out in a shaky laugh. “Could be worse.”

As if on cue, the lights flickered, dimmed, and then went out entirely, leaving us in darkness broken only by occasional flashes of lightning through the curtained window.

“You were saying?” I murmured, fumbling for the lantern.

In the soft glow that followed, I could see Tempest’s dress clinging to her curves, her hair plastered to her neck, her arms wrapped around herself as another shiver wracked her body.

“You need to get out of those wet clothes,” I said, my voice rougher than I’d intended. “You’re freezing.”

“So do you,” she countered, though her teeth were still chattering.

We stood frozen for a moment, the implication of our situation suddenly, acutely clear. One room. One bed. No dry clothes. And a long night ahead of us.

A particularly bright flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed almost instantly by a deafening crack of thunder that seemed to shake the small cabin. The storm was directly overhead now, wild and untamed, isolating us in our temporary shelter.

“Flynn?” Tempest’s voice was small, vulnerable in a way I’d never heard before.

“Yeah?”

Her hair tumbled in damp waves around her face, and her eyes, when they met mine, held a mixture of trust and something deeper, more primal, that made my breath catch.

“Know any ways to get warm in a hurry?”

Did I ever.