“Hey, whatever floats your boat. You know, I caught my gran reading Fifty Shades of Grey once. That was… interesting.”
“Oh my God,” Celeste breathed, fighting a grin. “That is… wow.”
“Anyway, slushies.” He clicked his fingers. “Harleigh?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Water? Soda? They do a mean green tea if that’s more your thing.”
“I guess I could go for a bottle of water. Thanks.”
“Celeste, the usual?”
“Of course,” she murmured, unable to look him in the eye. He disappeared and Celeste joined me on the couch.
“You know, I didn’t have you down as a smut reader.” She scowled at me, and laughter bubbled in my chest. “Relax, I’m joking. People should read whatever they like.”
“Hmm. What article were you reading?” One of her brows lifted.
“Touché.”
“Sorry, if we ambushed you into coming here.”
“It’s fine. I think I’ve gotten too used to being at the house.”
“You’re safe with us, Harleigh. I hope you know that.”
“I do. Where are the restrooms?” I asked, needing to escape the tension swirling around us.
“Back through the main room and down the entrance hall where we came in. They’re on the left. I can show you?”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure I can handle it.”
I excused myself and backtracked through the building, passing Miles on the way. Finding the women’s restroom was easy enough, but the second I stepped back out into the hall, that tingling sensation trickled through me again.
I quickly scanned the hall, but it was empty. Some inner sense pulled me toward the window wall that fronted the building. It overlooked the small parking lot and the road beyond that. Celeste’s Range Rover was parked in between two cars probably belonging to the other people bowling.
But it wasn’t their car that caught my attention. Because there, hidden under an overhanging tree was a car that was all too familiar.
Before I could think about the consequences, I rushed over to the door and ripped it open, storming outside. It was his car.
He was here.
Nix was here.
I couldn’t breathe.
My heart was stuck in my chest, my lungs tightening with every step.
He was here.
He’s here.
But when I reached his car, it was empty.
Was this some cruel joke? I reached out to touch it, to run my finger along the hood and make sure it wasn’t my mind playing tricks. That I wasn’t hallucinating. But the paintwork was cool to the touch, smooth and slick beneath my palm.
Real.