But more than that, after how her no-good husband had treated her, I worried she was pitied too.
Starting the engine, I flipped on the wipers. “What was her last known location?”
“Wait, don’t you want to know what the sheriff said? How he wants to proceed?”
“You can tell me after you text me the address.” I couldn’t decide if I wanted to see her or not. Last night had been embarrassing on a number of levels. But mostly it had been torture, the bad kind and the good kind.
How many times over the last five and a half years had I thought about having just another five minutes with her? What exactly I thought I’d gain, I had no idea. But I’d craved it—her—anyway.
Florence chuckled. “I’ll radio Monroe, ask him to cover your area.”
“Thanks, Flo.”
“Also, I heard about you and Charlotte.”
About to pull into traffic, I paused, frowning out the wet windshield. “Excuse me?”
“Charlotte told Simmons’s sister at the school, and Chris told everyone here. When did it happen?”
I hissed out a breath through my teeth, rolling my eyes to the ceiling of the car. “Y’all are a bunch of gossips.”
“No.” Flo sniffed, sounding affronted by the label. “We were all rooting for you two and so we’re disappointed, is all. What happened?”
. . . You deserve to be crazy about someone.
“We wanted two different things. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out.”
“Is it true that she was the one to call things off with you or—”
“I got to go, Flo. Text me the address. Driving now. Bye.” I hung up, turning the cruiser toward Knoxville and what would certainly be another tortuous experience. But at least I was getting my wish, another five minutes with Raquel Ezra.
Hell, maybe this time there’d be a miracle and I’d get a chance to kiss her goodbye.
Chapter 9
*Raquel*
“Save a boyfriend for a rainy day—and another, in case it doesn’t rain.”
Mae West
I pulled into the parking lot of the next—and last—bank on my list after circling the building once. No drive-up ATM that I could see, and a line three people deep waiting to use the machine by the front door, meant I could either wait in the Mustang or in the rain.
I chose the Mustang. Obviously.
Engine off, I wiped a fat drop of water from my forehead, residual moisture from the three times I’d been forced to leave the car prior to now, glad I hadn’t put any makeup on. By now I would’ve looked like that creepy girl from The Ring.
The day had been quite an adventure, taking this beautiful vintage muscle car on the twisty mountain roads, encountering only three or four stop-and-go lights, following the downloaded map on my phone.
My only source of frustration was the heavy rain. A light, mild rainfall would’ve been fine. But this had been a deluge, all day, heavier in the valley than in the hills. Most of the banks were in the valleys. I didn’t mind how my clothes stuck to my body, the inescapable humidity, or getting wet every time I left the Mustang.
I minded the lack of visibility. I’d wanted scenery, dammit!
Beautiful summer vistas of green trees threaded with mist, blue skies kissing the horizon, a sunset painting the heavens shades of pink, purple, and orange—views I’d been promised in the Great Smoky Mountains brochure I’d discovered on a bookshelf at the carriage house earlier in the week.
I’d been given mist, cloudy skies, and no color other than gray. Oh, the humanity.
But! It was fine. Driving the car had been fun. I’d filled “her” with premium, as requested. My journey neared its end, just a few hundred away from the $5000 I planned to leave in the glove compartment tomorrow for the Winstons as a thank you, and I felt content.
FYI, $5000 all in tens and twenties looks like a crazy amount of money. It’s a big pile of money. I almost felt compelled to cry myself to sleep on the big pile of money just to be able to say I had done so at one point in my life.
The person at the front of the line finished their business with the ATM and the second person, holding an umbrella, stepped up and under the awning. From where I sat, the awning appeared to have space for only one customer at a time. I didn’t have an umbrella. I’d assumed all the ATMs would be drive-throughs. Waiting in the car meant I couldn’t hold a spot, so I hoped no one else would show up and make the line longer.
But even if someone else did arrive and made the line longer, it wasn’t a big deal. I would simply wait, enjoying my last few hours as the master of my own destiny.
My spur-of-the-moment vacation had been a success. Yes, I’d ignored everyone and everything from home, and I’d probably have a ton of catching up to do when I touched down tomorrow, but I felt so much more relaxed. Sienna had been right, I’d needed time around fun people, nice people, who had no expectations. And I’d needed privacy.
I’d texted Sasha last night and told her to send a car to LAX along with a security detail to meet me at the checkpoint past the gates, which was where the paparazzi usually lurked. She’d responded with a snarky text, which after two weeks of being Sasha-free, had really rubbed me the wrong way. I’d have to reacclimate to her personality at some point. Tomorrow, it would be back to my mansion-bunker in the hills, with all my employees.
And no friends.
I bit my lip, absentmindedly twirling a long lock of my wet hair around a finger, asking myself what it would’ve taken for me to stay in Green Valley for the whole summer. Sienna had offered multiple times and the answer eluded me now just as it had every time she’d asked. Maybe if she let me pay rent?
But no. He was here, Deputy Dreamy, living his adorable, picturesque small-town life with his adorable, statuesque small-town girlfriend. Even now, a week and a day after seeing him at the station and then unexpectedly at the restaurant, I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t like how I still wanted him. It made me feel shitty about myself. I knew he was with someone else, someone awesome, and yet I wanted.
Not that it mattered that she was awesome, he was with someone else, and that was that. I didn’t want to run into them again, which—if last week had been any indication—I definitely would if I stayed with Sienna for the summer.
Whatever. I needed to get back to LA. My real life was there, even if no friends were. Green Valley, as restful and restorative and private as it had been, was not my real life, and—
A sudden knuckle rap on the passenger window had me jumping in my seat. My head hit the ceiling as a loud scream ripped from my throat.
“Raquel.” A face lowered to peer in the window, the sight giving me another shock. “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he said. “It’s—it’s Deputy James.”
“Oh my God.” I pressed my hand flat over my chest against my thundering heart, a relieved and self-conscious laugh bubbling out of me. My wits were completely scattered. “Oh my God, you scared me.”
“Apologies,” came his muted reply. “Do you mind if I . . .” He motioned to the door.
Wordlessly, I sprang into action, reaching to unlock the door and push it open. He held an umbrella—which he closed carefully before sliding in—and wore a wide-brimmed tan hat. And that’s when I realized he was in his deputy costume.