Taming Hollywood's Baddest Boy - Max Monroe Page 0,15
physical description for when he talks to the cops.
“You know him?” I ask, hoping to hell I haven’t already shot myself in the foot.
He nods resolutely. “Old Earl knows everyone in these parts.”
Hallelujah! He knows him!
“Also know that Luca Weaver don’t have friends, ’specially not the old kind.”
Ah shit.
“Oh. Well. See, I’m really more of an acquaintance than—”
“Save it, honey. I’m too old to waste any time listenin’ to bullshit stories.”
Fackkkk.
He leans into the counter in front of him with both elbows, sighs, and looks me deep in the eyes. “You mean Luca some kinda harm?”
I shake my head vehemently.
He nods once. “Good. I hope you mean that. Because if I send you up there and you’re lyin’, only one’s gonna get hurt is you. Understand?”
I nod, my head on a spring like a bobblehead toy. I’m not sure I actually understand, but agreeing seems like the only sane thing to do here.
“All right. Follow this interstate for another fifteen miles, and then you’ll go one-point-two miles over Mud Bay and up into the flow of the Hatchal River. Current’s not too strong this time a day, so you should be fine. The only cabin for miles and miles, if you make it before sunset, you won’t be able to miss it.”
I exhale in relief. I can’t believe this is actually happening. He’s actually giving me directions directly to Luca Weaver!
“I’m assuming you brought a kayak with you?”
“Oh, I’m not planning on doing any Alaskan adventures,” I respond on a laugh. “Just a quick visit with Luca, and I’ll be back on my way.”
“That’s all well and good, but…” A hearty chuckle laces his words together. “You’re going to need the kayak to get over to Luca’s place today.”
My face contorts, and relief is quickly punched out of the air and replaced by confusion. “I’m sorry, what?” I ask, seeking clarification for what I’m obviously misunderstanding.
“The tide is too high to hike across Mud Bay.”
“Like I said,” I respond, striving to get us on the same non-adventure page. “I’m just visiting quickly. I don’t think we’ll be outside of the cabin much at all.”
Earl smirks, and I realize what I’ve just said must sound like. I blush a little but otherwise let him believe what he must. If sexual healing is what he thinks I’m giving Luca Weaver, so be it.
“That’s all well and good, darlin’, but you can’t drive across Mud Bay,” he clarifies, his words coming out slow and steady like he’s talking to a child. “You can usually hike or float across, but since we’ve had rain for the past week, you can’t even hike. You’re going to need a boat or a kayak because the water is too high.”
My jaw hits the top of my cowgirl boots.
He studies me closely before muttering, “Maybe I should call him. At least have him looking out for your arrival.”
He reaches back for the peach-colored rotary phone on the side of the counter, and a tsunami of panic crashes over me.
No, no, no! Do not call him!
On instinct, I reach out and slap the receiver out of his hands. It bounces off the counter with a thud and falls toward the ground. Thankfully, its spiral cord saves it from a smacking death against the hardwood.
I glance from the receiver to Earl, and the skin between his wild eyebrows creases like I’ve kicked his puppy.
“Shoot. I’m so sorry,” I mutter and reach down to pick up the receiver and firmly place it back in its holder. “It’s just that I don’t want him to know I’m coming. It’ll be much better if it’s a surprise!” I exclaim and add jazz hands because, apparently, all of this fresh Alaskan air is turning me insane.
Earl goes back to humming. “Mm-hmm.”
I smile again, trying to make it look normal. He receives it without awkward comment, which is really all I can ask for.
“Well, I can loan you a kayak if you need.”
Loan me a kayak? The girl who has never kayaked in her life?
I may’ve been born and raised in West Virginia, but I’m a city girl through and through. I wouldn’t know how to paddle my way out of a paper bag.
“It’ll only cost you fifty bucks for the day,” Earl adds.
Deep and heavy, I sigh.
The mere idea of kayaking across a body of water to get to Luca Weaver’s house is downright terrifying, but I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place—crawl back to LA and lose my job, or risk