I love summer.
“Are you listening to me?” The loud voice snaps me out of a memory that just came out of no-damn-where, and I clear my throat. “Taxi?” the guy asks, studying me like I’m a little off in the head.
If I’m thinking back to those days, I must be fucking out of my mind.
“One of the guys from the garage can give you a lift to wherever you’re going,” I tell Moose Knuckle, shutting the door on his gratitude as I head inside my own place to start the day.
Beth’s eyes meet mine as she sorts through the appointment book, and she laughs under her breath.
“Fucking summer,” she mutters.
Fucking summer.
Chapter 3
MIKA
“You sure you want to do this?” Aidan asks as I set down yet another box.
Where the hell is Hunter? He’s the one who insisted on coming because he didn’t trust me to decorate my own place.
“Positive,” I tell Aidan, struggling with another box that is labeled Kitchen but hanging out in the living room. It can’t be in the living room. The living room is not the kitchen, and if it’s labeled kitchen it has to be there. “Should I be worried about Hunter?” I ask him as I drop the box, and start cursing my phone that has no signal.
I’ll have to switch to a local provider if I want to ever get any signal at all or be damned in the middle of the woods next to the lake where axe-murderers like to lurk.
Too much research. Don’t ask.
“Nah. He’s probably already found a summer bunny to fuck. How the hell does a guy wear pants that tight, bitch about a woman’s clothing the way he does, and still get more action than me? He’s an interior decorator, for fuck’s sake. Life doesn’t make sense anymore,” Aidan jokes, walking out on the front porch as he laughs.
I laugh, too, because it’s very true. Hunter has a way of literally getting almost any girl he wants, even though it makes zero sense in today’s alpha-male craze. I follow behind Aidan, still laughing as he mutters something about Hunter probably packing something his tight jeans aren’t showing.
A shiny black Chevy truck draws my attention as it idles in my driveway. Company already?
Hunter?
Hunter is definitely getting out and fist bumping the driver. He struts toward us as the Chevy backs out, and I make eye contact with a guy who seems vaguely familiar, even though I have no idea where I know him from.
He eyes me as well, studying me like he’s experiencing a touch of déjà vu. Finally, he drives off, and I shake free from my thoughts as I turn around to face Hunter.
“New friend?”
“Yeah. Thankfully the owner of the garage gave me a lift when my damn rental broke down. I had to wait on him to get back from towing my ride because that garage was busy first thing this morning. I’m calling the rental place to get a new set of wheels and let them deal with that shit.”
Shrugging, I guide him in, listening to him whistle low as he takes in all the surroundings. Our lake home is still just as amazing as ever, even though it needs some updating.
“This place is one hell of a gem. Why is it in a dying town?”
“Same reason I am,” I say quietly, running my hands over the railing of the staircase, silently adding, Hayden never lets you go. “Hayden is small, but it’s not dying,” I tell him as I turn around, changing the subject. “It’s actually growing economically. I think my new purchase will do well.”
“Why are you buying a bowling alley again? I don’t get it. You’re a murder/mystery writer. Not a damn bowling alley owner.”
“Yes, well, in my next book, the victim dies in the bowling alley. I need to do some research,” I deadpan.
He’s not getting the real reason.
“Why do I ever expect you to be serious?” he groans. “I’m going to start sketching up some designs after I inspect the place a little better. Hope you know you’re paying me a pretty penny.”
“I’m aware,” I say with a smile, considering I’m paying him in wine and chick flicks for a solid weekend. It’s not like he needs my money. I had to force him to take money for the bowling alley he handled for me.
“I’m about to head over to see how the renovations to the bowling alley have come along. Lanes to Strike is having its grand opening next weekend.”
“Wah wah wah,” my asshole brother says dramatically, giving it a thumbs down. “Seriously keeping that name?”
“I like it. It’s straight to the point.”
“It’s annoyingly obvious,” Hunter chimes in from somewhere near the kitchen.
“Whatever. Sign is already hanging, so fuck off. I’m going to meet the floor manager and operations manager if I can catch them before they leave. They’re doing a walk-through today.”
Aidan flips me off while smiling, and I roll my eyes while leaving.
The drive to town is short, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my jean shorts as soon as I pull up. I don’t care if I look professional or not. That’s the beauty of owning a place; people can’t tell you how to dress or act. Especially in a town like Hayden.