Chapter Five

Lola

If it weren't for the attractive and broody ball of tightened-up string that just shot out the back door, I might've thought I was living in a daydream. Online, the one-and-a-half-story bungalow looked charming. But in person, it exudes light and life, blowing way past charming toward entrancing.

The hardwood floors, crisp-colored pastel walls, and airy draperies called to me the minute I stepped over the threshold. And it's mine for four weeks. At most, that's all I'll have in Willow Cove, yet after seeing this place, I wish I was staying much, much longer.

"Sorry about my brother," Jerica says, twirling toward me. "He's a little…" She holds her hand up, tilting it from side to side.

"Lacking in social graces?"

She winces. "I was going to say offensive, but yeah. Yours works too."

My lips quirk at her spunky bluntness. It caught me off guard at first, just how matter of fact and to the point she is, but I guess she's like her brother in that way. Not the type to pull any punches. Jerica's certainly nicer than Perry. More friendly, for sure. It's easy to see that their similarities begin and end with their bluntness, deep ocean-blue eyes, and auburn hair.

"Don't let him bother you," she continues. "He's a bitter old grump. Or at least that's what I call him. To everyone else, he's just Perry. A quiet guy who mostly keeps to himself. He doesn't bother anyone, and they don't bother him."

"That explains his behavior this morning," I mutter, more to myself than Jerica. "Well, I'll be sure not to bug him too much then." I smile and gesture toward the kitchen. "Did you say there was recycling here?"

"Oh, yeah!" Jerica perks up, then leads me to the kitchen and points to a blue box on the counter with Willow Cove written in a script font across the side. "This is where you'll put all your recycling. We're kind of big on keeping the environment—and the beaches especially—healthy around here."

"That's wonderful!" I'm all for preserving the natural habitats of wildlife and bettering our oceans.

"Yeah, so just set it by your trash on Tuesdays and the village cleanup crew will come and pick it up for you." Jerica smiles. "Any other questions?"

"I don't think so," I say as I take another turn around the kitchen. "I have a feeling I'm going to love it here."

Jerica hands over the keys with one last admonition. "Just remember to lock up each time you leave. And again, if there are any concerns or issues with the place, my brother lives right behind the house in the garage-turned-apartment. He can assist with whatever you might need."

Inwardly, I scoff. Sure, he can assist me …right out of town. The man looks at me like I'm an ant he'd like to squash with one of his big, worn out work boots.

"Thanks," I say, trying to sound grateful. "I'll be sure to keep him in mind." I cringe at my slip. "I mean, that. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Not him. Because that would be weird."

Jerica blinks, then slaps her hands together. "Okay, then. If that's all, I'll get out of your hair."

"Oh, one last thing. Can you tell me where the best place is to buy produce around here? I like to make a fresh smoothie every morning."

"Oh, sure. Del's on the corner. Best fruit and veggies in the county. All grown by local farmers."

I smile. "That sounds great, thanks." Jerica leaves, but not before making me promise that I'll give her live updates on the excavation this summer. Apparently, some of the locals have caught wind of what we're doing and are making bets about what things my crew and I will find down there.

I chuckle to myself as I abandon the kitchen to unpack my stuff in the bedroom. Small towns are notorious for gossip, and it sounds like Willow Cove will be no different. I just hope that we can give them something to really get excited about. Jerica is hoping for pirate treasure, which isn't likely, but still. There could be something valuable down there.

And starting tomorrow, we'll begin to find out what exactly that might be.

Too restless after unpacking to relax, I decide to text Jerica and ask if she's free to give me a little tour around town.

Me: Hey, Jerica. I know this isn't a part of your "hosting" duties, but I wondered if you were free to hang out tonight. I'd love to see more of Willow Cove.

I set my phone on the dresser and have just stepped into the bathroom to fix my hair when my phone chimes with a text alert.

Jerica: I'd love to hang out! I'll pick you up in an hour!

There's a long string of excited looking emojis after that, giving me the impression that she genuinely isn't bothered by my request. Maybe she loves meeting new people as much as I do, which would make her the exact opposite of her anti-social brother.

It doesn't take me long to straighten the buns on my head and liven up my short, messy waves. As I stare at myself in the mirror, a totally uncalled for, hysterical laugh bursts out of me. The way Perry—because that's what I call him no matter how much he insists that I don't—grimaced at my pink hair like it personally offended him is burned into my mind. It really is amusing how much I get under his skin. But something tells me it's more than the hair or the eternal optimism. Maybe it really was because I showed up on his boat, disrupting his quiet, lonely little life.

Okay, so I can't say for sure that he lives a lonely life, but the guy literally lives in a small, renovated garage behind the sweetest bungalow in town and fishes for a living because he likes it . It's not that there's anything inherently wrong with either of those things. But someone who's happy with their current circumstance usually smiles more. Or at least has a pleasant disposition. Perry acts as if there are invisible bricks heaped on his shoulders, weighing his entire being down. Bertie is the only soft and sweet thing about him.

With a resigned sigh, I push the man from my mind and focus on getting ready to meet his sister. Maybe she'll shed a bit of light on Perry while we're out tonight. He's intriguing in an I've gotta solve the mystery or it'll kill me until I do sort of way.

I swap my ripped shorts for a black swing skirt and my T-shirt for a bright pink ribbed tank. I tuck it in and top it with a thick belt, then layer on some gold chain necklaces and bangles for good measure. Giving myself a once-over in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, I deem myself appropriate for a fun night out on the town.

I'm not sure what to expect from the nightlife scene in a small coastal town like this, but I envision soft reggae music floating through the cool night air and the boardwalk strung with twinkle lights. Maybe there will even be a live band!

My excitement grows to the point I'm nearly buzzing with energy by the time Jerica shows up at my door in fitted, flare jeans and a floral crop top. "Wow," she says after taking in my outfit. "You look fancy ."

I give a little curtsy with my thanks, then gesture to her. "And look at you! You're a hottie with your bronzed skin and wild curls!"

Her already rosy freckled cheeks deepen a shade. "Thanks," she says as she raises a hand to the back of her auburn hair. "Trying to tame these curls is an impossible task, so I've learned to just embrace it."

Her makeup is bold and flawless, making me wish I had her makeup application skills. "Can you do my makeup sometime? Yours looks awesome."

"Oh, thanks." She points behind me. "I can do it right now, if you want? I always keep my makeup in my purse." She pats the large tote bag draped over her arm as proof.

"I'd love that, if you don't mind."

"Absolutely. Let's go."

Ten minutes later, my eyes are sparkly and dramatic with thick, black eyeliner lining my lashes. It borders on the side of avant-garde, but I love it. I look fierce.

"Yowza." Jerica hip checks me as we stare at our reflections. "You're like some sort of rock star. I'm going to have to fight off the local guys with a big stick tonight."

I laugh and head for the door. "I don't know about a rock star, but I do really like it. You've got some serious talent with that little makeup bag of yours."

She huffs a sigh as we step out into the dusky evening. "I wouldn't say it's a talent. More like a fun little hobby. I've just always been into makeup."

I'm about to ask if she's ever thought about trying to make it a career when she asks, "Hey, are you okay with walking? It's just two blocks to the boardwalk."

"Oh, sure."

We start down the street when curiosity tugs at me. I turn to look back at the garage-apartment behind the house. There's a light on in one of the rooms, and I can't help but wonder what Perry's doing.

"So, where do you want to eat tonight? I'm assuming you didn't have dinner." Jerica's question redirects my thoughts away from her brother.

"Hm. What's good?"

"Well, there's the diner, but it's packed with people over sixty at this time of night. There's a really good Thai place, too. Or we could head over to the Shallow End if you're okay with burgers and that sort of thing? It's a pool hall geared more toward people our age."

I smile at the thought of sitting down to a low-key dinner at a local dive bar. "Sounds perfect. Let's go there."

Less than ten minutes later, we've walked past a quaint little surf shop, a bakery, a music store, and a few other small businesses that I can't wait to scope out later. When we reach the Shallow End, an invisible fried food-scented cloud descends upon us and my mouth waters.

"Here we are," Jerica says as she opens the place's rickety front door. "Now, don't be surprised if you get hit on tonight," she adds like it's no big deal. "Some of the guys around here pounce when they see a pretty new face. They date the tourists like it's their job."

I wave off her warning with a little laugh. I'm okay with some harmless flirting here and there, and I do like to have a good time, even if I'm not the kind of girl who's into romantic flings. If there's not a solid commitment involved, I'm not interested. For that, I blame my madly-in-love-for-thirty-plus-years parents. They've been together since college, and their stability is something I've craved since I was a little girl. But being quirky and busy with a career that you love are two things that work against a thriving dating life.

Stepping into the pool hall feels a little bit like going back in time. A long bar stretches out in front of us and vintage décor lines the walls in the dimly lit space. Jerica and I settle in at the bar, where each of us orders a soda before perusing our menus.

"The burgers look delicious," I say, mouth already watering at the thought of biting into a savory patty topped with pickles and melted cheese.

"They are," Jerica confirms. "And the fries are extra crispy too, if that's your thing. I love them."

Once our orders are placed, I take the time to let my gaze wander over the rest of the establishment. It catches on a familiar figure bent over a pool table, aiming his stick with what looks like expert precision. Perry appears cleaner than he did earlier now that's he dressed in a fitted red tee and jeans. No hat this time either. His auburn hair gives off mega Devon Sawa from Casper vibes with its middle part and the way it drapes over the tops of his ears. It too looks clean—freshly washed, I imagine—even from this distance. Though his expression is locked on the ball he's trying to hit into the pocket, it's more open than it was this morning, less tense. His biceps flex as he pulls the stick back and then lets it go. Balls scatter across the table as he straightens, and a dark-haired guy gives him a good-natured slap on the shoulder.

"Figures my brother is here." Jerica's voice cuts through my fascination.

"Hm?"

She sighs, and I turn toward her. "He likes to come here with some of the guys he went to high school with," she clarifies. "Not to hit on chicks, though. They mostly just eat and play pool."

I nod absentmindedly as my attention flits back to Perry. At that exact second, his gaze crashes into mine and I force my eyes away.

"Want me to call him over?" One of her auburn eyebrows cocks as she asks the question.

"Ah, no." I clear my throat. "Please don't. Let him have fun with his friends." Part of me wonders if, now that I'm here, he'll hightail it out the back door. It's obvious I ruined his lunch— probably his entire morning—today. No need to add insult to injury. At least not tonight.