Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 20927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
I don’t know what lodge she’s talking about but I’m always happy to see Zoey. She’s the best sister-in-law a girl could ask for. She makes my brother smile and she’s good to my mother. Plus, she’s my friend. My really good author friend who always gets me advanced copies of the dirtiest books.
My brother’s entire expression has changed since Zoey knocked on the door. He gestures her into the room, and she skirts around his desk, catching her shoe only once.
She settles into Brock’s embrace, sitting on his lap. They fit together perfectly and I’m glad they’ve found each other.
I stand and take a step toward the door. Whatever she wanted to tell me about a lodge can wait until later. “I’ll see you two—”
“Wait,” Brock growls out. He reluctantly pulls his gaze from Zoey to me. “You’re going on vacation next week.”
“The Forever After Lodge is in Sweetheart, North Carolina,” she explains. “My bestie, Valentine says it’s beautiful. It’s the perfect place to work on that project we were talking about.”
I mentioned my latest project to Zoey a couple of weeks ago. But I’m still struggling with it. I want to write something that touches people’s hearts, that makes them remember the characters long after the book is closed.
“Thanks, but there’s still a lot to do around here,” I answer, figuring I can buy myself some time. “I’ll try to go on vacation next month.”
Brock scowls and rakes a hand through his hair. “This can either be a request from your big brother or an order from your chief. It’s time for a vacation.”
“This can either be a request from your big brother or an order from your chief,” I repeat the words as the tiny Fiat I borrowed from the airport chugs up the curvy mountainside road to the Forever After Lodge.
I’m not even entirely sure what I’m supposed to do on vacation. At least, I’ll have a tour guide while I’m here. Some woman named Gray who owns the lodge has promised to show me around thanks to Zoey.
My phone dings for the thirtieth time in the past three hours and I’m tempted to chuck it out the window. He wants me to go on vacation then insists that I text him every hour of my travel time. You’d think I was traveling naked to some inner city with high crime rates by the sheer number of texts and reminders my brother has sent.
I pull over on the side of the road and get out of the car. I need to stretch anyway. I dial my brother’s phone. “You’re driving me nuts,” I hiss as soon as he answers. “I thought you wanted me to relax.”
I have to concentrate to hear him because he’s breaking up. I’m only getting every other word from him. “Then answer damn phone. Could be dead. Side of the road. You didn’t. Rest area. To avoid, did you?”
This is the problem with having a brother who’s worked homicide. He’s seen too many stories with bad endings to be comfortable with me traveling alone.
“I’m not dead on the side of the road,” I mutter as I walk the dirt road. The air here is different. It’s more humid on the east coast. But there’s still the slightest nip in the air. The trees around me have already started their autumn show, the leaves turning red and gold to celebrate the cooler temperatures. “I might just come back early from my vacation to kick your ass. Now that sounds relaxing.”
“Alright, alright. Check in. Few hours,” Brock says, and I feel the briefest flicker of guilt. He’s trying to look out for me. He feels responsible for not being there when Dad died.
“I promise. Go annoy your wife,” I insist before telling him I love him and ending the call. In the silence, I tell the trees, “He worries too much.”
I walk back to the car and settle in it, checking the GPS on my phone. It loads slowly and I’m having trouble getting my data signal up here.
Fortunately, there’s only an hour or so to go up the mountain road to get to the lodge but nowhere to stop along the way. At least, being a dispatcher taught me to ignore my bladder.
Even in small, safe towns like South Tahoe, there’s a steady stream of callers. I eat most of my meals at my desk and face near constant adrenaline surges. It’s hard to do what I do but I won’t let down my dad’s memory. He deserves my very best.
With that thought, I hit the button on my key fob to star the ignition. An error message displays on the dashboard: Electronic key not detected.
I mash the key fob two more times before it becomes very clear that the message isn’t going away, and the car isn’t starting. A quick search on my phone shows that the battery in the fob has most likely died. My phone battery drops low at the same time, showing off a blinking red battery icon.