EMILY: I emailed Noelle, she wants to talk to you this week. Can you email her tomorrow? [email protected]
ME: Sure. I’ll email her tomorrow morning.
EMILY: Lmk how it goes. Did you read Bethany’s emails?
I was so not in the mood for this right now, but there was no way she’d leave me alone.
ME: Yes. She stopped the video being circulated and wants me to report it to the police because it’s obviously revenge porn. I’m going to call her tmrw morning and tell her our plan.
EMILY: She’s right.
ME: I know that, but I still want proof before I accuse him.
EMILY: You know it was him.
ME: I’m not in the mood for this, Em.
EMILY: Sorry. We’ll talk tomorrow?
ME: Sure. I’ll call you after Bethany.
EMILY: Video chat. Amelia misses you. So do I.
I sighed and put my phone down after assuring her I would video call her. Guilt wracked my body at the thought I’d hurt my little niece so much, but I hadn’t really thought much of anything before I’d left.
Three raps at the sliding doors made me jerk. Momentarily freezing at the outline of a large, tall man at the window, I sagged when I realized it was Theo.
“It’s open,” I called.
He slid the door open and stepped inside. “Do you know they’re crazy?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure if them walking up to me while naked or them talking about the aliens was the thing to tip me off.” I poured wine into a glass and downed it. “Can you help me figure that out?”
Sighing, Theo stepped inside. “Do you have more of that wine?”
“Yes.”
“May I have some?”
“No.”
“I deserve that, huh?”
“I don’t care if you deserve it or not. I don’t share wine.” I poured the last of the bottle into my glass to make my point. “Especially not with grumpy, judgmental landlords.”
Theo stilled for a second, but he had enough manners not to respond to my slightly tipsy—albeit truthful—assessment of him.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my wine and go to bed because I have to call my lawyer in the morning.” I gave him a pointed look.
“About the sex tape you didn’t know about?”
“Don’t let the glass door hit you on the ass on the way out,” I snapped, finally losing my cool with him. It was probably the wine, but it felt like he’d come up here just to make me feel more unwelcome than I already did.
I hindsight, I never should have stayed in Creek Keys. Not for longer than a night, anyway.
Hindsight was not my friend tonight.
Theo opened his mouth as if he was going to respond, but quickly pressed his lips together in a restrained smile. No sooner had he done that than he left, closing the door behind him again.
Finally alone, I sagged onto the island and dropped my forehead onto the cold surface. I was so going to regret talking to him like that tomorrow. It honestly wasn’t the kind of person I was, but everyone had a breaking point.
Apparently, naked old ladies looking for a probing from the aliens was my breaking point.
I did what anyone else would do in my situation: for the first time in several days, since all this happened, I sank to the floor and cried.
And cried.
And cried.
CHAPTER SIX – THEO
“Because the law says we can’t keep monkeys as pets on Creek Keys,” I said, putting the bowl of cereal in front of Ari on the dining table.
“But why does it say that?”
“Because monkeys don’t make very good pets.”
“There’s a two percent difference in our DNA. Why can we live in houses but monkeys can’t?”
It was really bloody hard to argue with a child who threw logic like that in your face.
“Look, kid, I don’t make the rules. I just have to follow them, like you do.”
“Rules suck.”
“Yes, they do. Now eat your breakfast before I make a new rule that involves chores.”
She wrinkled her face up, creasing her nose in the process, but she did as she was told and scooped a big spoonful of cereal up.
Thank God she’d dropped that for now.
I did not need a monkey—not when I had a feisty runaway living next door.
Shit. I did not need to think about Elle right now. I was only going to fill myself with a mixture of guilt and curiosity, and I needed neither of those things this early in the morning.
I didn’t need them any other time, either, but still.
I finished loading the dishwasher with the dirty dishes I couldn’t be bothered to do last night and closed it. I would set it going when Arielle was done with her breakfast.
Leaning against the countertop, I picked up my cup of tea and looked out at the beach. It was so peaceful on a morning before everyone woke up and the tourists staying at the other beach houses flocked to the beach. It wasn’t the longest stretch in the world, but it was a secluded one and gave everyone in the houses more than enough of their own space to have some privacy.
After glancing at Ari who was happily eating and watching something on YouTube on her tablet, I took my tea to the back of the house and sat on the outdoor sofa. It was still early enough that it was pleasant to be outside, and I sighed as a soft morning breeze blew past the house.
I tried to focus on the incoming tide, but all I could think about was the woman staying in the next house.
Elle.
I looked over at the house. It was nowhere near as tidy as mine or the others on the right. It needed more than a lick of paint—it needed a whole damn French kiss of it. Everything from the walls to the shutters to the faded porch needed some love.
It wasn’t even a question of money. It was all about time. I’d intended to have it ready for this summer, but by the time I’d done minor repairs and paint touch ups on the other houses and the bastard of a cowboy plumber had messed me around, it was the start of the seasons.
I still couldn’t believe I’d rented it to her. For a week, no less. It was even annoying that it looked so damn good inside from what I’d seen last night. She really had done an amazing job cleaning it up, and I was grateful for what she’d done.
But I still didn’t want her there.
I didn’t know what to think about her. Or that bloody x-rated tape of hers.
Usually, if someone said they didn’t know they’d made a sex tape, they were lying. A video camera or a phone was pretty fucking hard to miss. And in what was apparently a cleaning cupboard?
I wasn’t sure if I bought her story.
Sure, she seemed like a nice, wholesome person on the internet, but that was the problem.
The internet was ninety-five percent absolute bullshit on a good day.
For all I knew, in real life, Elle Evans was a raging bitch.
All right, I didn’t believe that. She’d snapped at me last night, but it was the break of a person who’d had a shit day and pretty much wanted to be left alone, not a mean person.
That and I probably deserved her ire a little bit.