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Excerpt

“Of course I can. Dr. Doolittle released me and said I could go back to the resort. Are you going to take me,” I spun to look at him, “or should I call an Uber?”

Holt’s eyes lit up as laughter bubbled out from him. It was so rare to see someone laugh like that. Real and without restraint. People in my world were so calculated, so careful to show emotion. When he laughed, it lit up his entire face, and it was nothing less than beautiful.

“First off, Uber is for big cities. We don’t have that here.”

My mouth dropped open and I know my eyes must have bugged out of my head because I could feel them. He continued with a lightness to his voice. “I know, shocking, right?” Then he pointed to a bulletin board that was on the wall of a hallway the jetted off from the main one. I would have walked right past if he hadn’t brought it to my attention. It had all different colors and sizes of papers and advertisements covering it. He stood in front of it, ran his hand over his mouth and then pinched his chin like he was concentrating. “Now let’s see.”

I peeked around from behind him, confused about what he was suddenly so serious about.

Oh,” he exclaimed and ripped a tab from one sheet and turned, holding the ripped paper in his hand. “You could call Tony’s Taco Truck. If you paid him enough, I bet he would give you a ride.”

He pushed the small piece of paper into my hand and smiled.

“Hilarious,” I responded, shoving against his chest. He grabbed onto my wrists.

“But the other reason you can’t leave is a little more serious. You need to talk to the sheriff.”

I stiffened. “What? Why?”

After dropping my wrists, he started back down the main hallway, in the opposite direction I’d been heading.

I yelled after him, my green tennis shoe clad feet stuck to the floor. I’d never talked to a police officer, or sheriff, or anyone who upheld the laws of the land before. I don’t think I’d ever even talked to a parking attendant. “Am I in trouble? Is Dick pressing charges?”

He motioned for me to follow so scurried up to him, clinching the plastic bag Doyle had given me and my broken cell phone against my chest. All my fake confidence had left the building.

Words fell from my mouth as I tried to keep up. “I’ve never been in trouble. I’ve never broken the law. I’m a law-abiding citizen. Do I need a lawyer? Should I call my father?”

Even in my panic-stricken state, I knew that was a horrible idea. What was I saying? Call my dad. Not in a million years. Hadn’t he just told me I needed to build trust with these people? And here I was, only minutes later heading to see the po-po about God only knows what. I raked a hand down the side of my hair, just in case this wasn’t all a nightmare, and I wasn’t about to wake up on a beach somewhere with a fruity drink.

Holt stopped and my shoulder ran into the back of his arm. He turned and gently grabbed my upper arms. “All I know is it’s something about being on a FaceTime call while driving. Distracted driving is a big no-no in this state.”

My mouth fell into an O shape, and I sucked in a slow breath. “Ohhhh,” I finally said, my voice low and drawn out. He nodded his head when he realized I understood.

Shit. I was in trouble.

“Also…” He continued. The plastic bag rumpled as I tightened my grip on it. “You did sort of shoot off an emergency flair that triggered some pretty big panic around town. Apparently, the local lifeguards pulled all the kids out of the lake and cancelled the swim lessons for the rest of the day. The ladies in the Central Park Book Club were having their weekly meeting, and they all panicked. Geraldine tried to run to her car without her walker and fell, taking Betty down with her.” He bent down to get face to face with me. “Thank God no one was seriously hurt.” He stood back up and looked at something over my head. “And Edie at the Bakery dropped an entire pan of her famous blueberry scones.” His eyes dropped to mine. “It was a tragedy the mid-morning coffee crowd may never recover from.”

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About the Author

Micki is a small-town Iowa girl with a flair for the dramatics. Her favorite thing to do is people watch and make up romantic scenarios in her head. She loves her family, coffee and tacos.

When not reading, writing or watching Korean zombie movies, you can usually find her supporting one one of her five kids as they sing, dance or act on a stage somewhere. While her kids were born with stars in their eyes, the idea of being the center of attention makes Micki want to pass out.

Her other hobbies include wrestling with her two American Bulldog rescues, Ozzy and Luna, or begging her cat, Cora, for attention.

Micki is obsessed with growly alphas and the strong women who set them free.

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