I turn to stare out the window, sending a prayer out into the dark sky that Savannah doesn’t hang around with her cousin all that often, because I really don’t want to be in close proximity to him for the time that I’m here.
Blake doesn’t bother to respond, only chuckles under his breath, and we sit in silence for a minute until, finally, the Harding Estate comes into view. The spotlights running along the walls light up the road in a cool, blue haze. I tug off my seatbelt before Blake has even reached the front gate, ready to make my getaway and hopefully never see him again.
“One Mila Harding safely delivered to her prison – sorry, home,” he states, putting the truck into park.
“Prison?” I echo, bewildered. I mean, sure, the walls are intimidating, and the thought of the ranch being like a prison did cross my mind earlier. But still, the walls are there for a reason – to protect Sheri and Popeye.
Blake dips his head and peers through the windshield. “Well, yeah. I imagine it feels that way.”
I haven’t been at the ranch long enough to feel locked in yet, so I ignore his musings and get out of the truck. No way does he deserve a thank you or a goodbye, so I grab the door to slam it shut.
“Do you have a key for that gate?”
“I have a code,” I say, shoving the door of the truck closed. “Obviously.”
I make for the gate and pull up the notes app on my phone to find the code I wrote down earlier, but I become aware that Blake’s truck is still idling behind me. Why hasn’t he left yet? I hate this feeling of his gaze following me.
Twisting around, I yell back to the truck, “Do you have to stay there and watch me?”
Blake rolls down his window, hooks an arm over the door, then smiles sweetly. It’s the nicest smile he’s given me all night, but it doesn’t hide the steeliness in his voice. “Just making sure you get home safely, as promised. Surely you’d be worth a big chunk of ransom money? If you disappeared right now, I’d be the prime suspect.”
“Go home, Blake,” I order, disregarding him with a flippant wave of my hand. “Bye. Goodnight. See you never.”
I turn back to the gate and take a deep breath, tuning him out, then punch in the numbers Sheri gave me. A shrill beep emits from the gate and the keypad flashes red, but nothing else happens.
Huh?
I try again – pressing each number on the keypad slower this time to ensure I’ve entered the code correctly, but another beep and a flicker of red light tells me otherwise. Did Sheri give me the wrong code? Did I note it down wrong? I was rushing to leave at the time.
Anxiously, I tap my foot the same way I did when I first arrived at the ranch this afternoon, thinking hard. I don’t want to turn around and admit to Blake that I’m currently locked out, so keeping my head down, I swipe through my phone’s contact list.
I am horrified to discover that I do not have Aunt Sheri’s number.
My eyes widen as I check my list again, panic searing through me. Why don’t I have her number? I wrote mine down on a sticky note in the kitchen earlier, but I didn’t think to ask Sheri for hers in case of, you know – emergencies like this.
“Is there a problem with that big expensive security gate?” I hear Blake call.
“I told you to go home,” I mutter with my back to him. I’m feigning confidence, but right now I am racking my brain for a way to get inside this ranch.
“But aren’t you glad there’s someone here to help you?”
The engine cuts out and I hear the click of his door closing, then footsteps. He stands alongside me and places his hands on his hips, head tilted to one side as he stares at the looming gate before us. Meanwhile, I stare at him, mortified. Could tonight get any worse?
“Maybe you should – I don’t know – call someone?” he suggests.
“Well, yes,” I’m forced to agree. “But . . . I don’t have my aunt’s number.”
He gives me a sideways look and the spotlights from the wall shine over the dimple in his cheek. “You don’t have your aunt’s number?” He grins like he can’t believe anyone could be that dumb.
“Shut up!” I growl, still scrolling frantically through my contact list in case I’ve got the ranch’s landline in here, but it’s hopeless – whenever I call Popeye, I call from our own landline back home. I don’t have anyone’s numbers saved in my cell phone. “I only arrived today.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he says, then turns to the stretching darkness behind us and jokingly calls out, “Does anyone out there have a tent Mila can borrow?” His voice booms in the night, echoing far in the distance. “And maybe a sleeping bag?”
“Stop it. This isn’t funny.”
I tilt my head back and run my eyes up the height of the walls. There’s a reason they are eight feet tall – no one’s going to scale those babies. I groan and press my palm flat to my forehead, mulling through my limited options.
“You seriously have no way to get inside?” Blake asks.
“What – you think I want to be stuck out here with you?”
He smiles, then reaches into his pocket for his phone. “Look, I’m going to do you a real favor this time.”
I wonder what he can possibly do to help me get inside, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. I may be angry at him, but right now I am secretly pretty glad that he didn’t follow my orders to leave.
Blake dials a number, then presses his phone to his ear and walks away from me. He stuffs his other hand into the pocket of his shorts and paces silently by his truck, not making eye contact with me. I remain where I am, watching, waiting. Who is he calling?
He stops pacing and clears his throat when the call is answered. “Hey, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he says quietly into the phone, his back to me. “I know it’s late, but I need you to call someone for me. It’s kind of an emergency.” He listens, then sighs. “I just told you I’m fine. This isn’t about me.” He pauses and turns to me, holding his phone away from his ear. “What’s your aunt’s name again?”
“Sheri.”
Blake angles away again and talks into the phone, his voice lowered but not quite enough. “Can you call Sheri Harding and tell her that her niece is locked out of their ranch? Yeah, her niece, so his daughter.” A long pause. “I know, but you’re the only one who’s awake at this hour and can help.” Another pause. “Okay. Thanks.” He ends the call, puts his phone back in his pocket, then walks back over to me.
“Who was that?” I ask.