The Perfect Cover (The Perfect Stranger #2) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,41

bad things to you?”

I laugh.

“Do you think I'm kidding?” he asks. “I’m not.”

“Do you like it short?” I ask, pointing to the new hairline that falls right above my shoulders.

“It's probably not short enough, but yes, it looks really good.”

“Not short enough?” I gasp. “What are you talking about? That’s like two inches!”

“Exactly. I was thinking of something close to your ears.”

“No, no, no,” I say and shake my head.

“Okay, fine, I'm not going to make you. I just want to protect you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say.

Tyler reaches over and places his hand on my knee. I put my hand on top of his and squeeze tightly.

Holding his hand in mine makes me feel very safe. I know that's probably a stupid thing to think, despite everything that has happened, but I like how he makes me feel.

Before I met Tyler, my life was fraught with anxieties. Somehow, they have all been supplanted by real fears, but still, with him by my side, I feel safe. Safer than I have in a long time.

“I'm kind of glad that Mac isn't here anymore,” I say after a long pause. “Maggie, too. It's nice just being here with you.”

“I know what you mean,” he says, giving me a smile as we drive further and further into the dark desert.

24

Tyler

When we get there…

It's early morning when we finally pull into Palm Desert, California. It's so early in fact that I feel like we have to waste some time before we can actually stop by for a visit. It has to be at least after six.

Tessa lives in a very unassuming development at the end of a cul-de-sac. Actually, it seems like the whole city is one development after another. Some are gated, most are sprawling and expansive.

The ones with golf courses have guards and little booths out front with large gates that slide in and out. Some have enormous fountains to welcome visitors and residents. Most are lined with tall palm trees.

Luckily, for me, Tessa’s house doesn’t have a guard or a gate. It’s just a cul-de-sac nestled among ten others, bordering a busy street.

The sky is blue, without a cloud for miles. The humidity is low and the sun is harsh. It's not even morning really and the sun feels stronger than it ever felt back home.

Without the cloud coverage, there isn't anything holding it back. That’s what’s appealing about this. Most residents are men and women in their 50s and 60s who start their days early by either jogging, cycling, or walking their pooches.

I glance over at Isabelle who is still curled up and asleep in the back. I decide that there is no reason to rouse her and instead park near a No Parking sign and wait until it becomes a more reasonable hour to accept uninvited guests.

Around seven a.m., I start to feel myself drift off under the warm California sun. My mouth is parched and I finish the last of the bottle of water I got in Nevada hours ago. I wish that I had pulled into a gas station or Starbucks for some coffee, but I was worried about being caught on camera.

“Are we here?” Isabelle asks, sitting up and stretching out in both directions.

She moves her head from side to side and then holds her neck up as if she has a crick in it.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“I must've slept funny.”

“Honda Accords are not known for their comfortable sleeping arrangements,” I joke.

She peeks out of the window and looks up at the enormous palm tree.

“We're here,” she announces with a smile. “We're actually here?”

I give her a slight nod. “That's her house right over there.”

“Why didn't you wake me up earlier?”

“It’s still early. She is an early riser but I didn’t want to bother her at six.”

“Yeah. That’s probably a good thing,” Isabelle agrees, “since you are asking her to pay you a lot of money.”

“Hey, it's my money. She owes it to me.”

“I wasn’t saying that it wasn’t.” She smiles.

After climbing into the front seat, Isabelle looks around.

“Honestly, I never thought that someone that wealthy would live here.”

“You don't think this is a nice neighborhood?”

“Of course, it is. I mean, you can see that just by looking at it, but is it a very wealthy neighborhood? Like Kardashian wealthy? Like ten million-dollar homes wealthy? I don’t know.”

I agree with her. It looks like an upper middle class place with manicured lawns. There are no weeping willows or impressive oaks like we have back east,