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Kenna
I jammed another one of Aunt Maeve’s trucker hats on my head to cover up my current disaster. This hat said Salt Life, which, even though I still didn’t understand it, seemed better than the other one that had Florida Man embroidered across the front. I glanced at myself in the mirror above the fireplace, shaking my head at my image. I honestly did not recognize the woman staring back at me. She had dark smudges under her sunken eyes, neon hair poking through the back of the borrowed hat, and an ill-fitting T-shirt instead of office wear.
With a sigh, my gaze dropped to the ceramic urn sitting on the mantel. The busty mermaid had had the last laugh last night when I’d opened her up as part of my exploration of the house, thinking I might find a key to a hidden safe full of money Aunt Maeve hadn’t told anyone about. When I’d gotten a puff of ashes to the face, I’d barely held in the scream.
“You are a hideous urn. Not a proper resting place at all.”
The mermaid stared back at me with one eye. The other was sending me a perpetual lusty wink. A manic giggle bubbled up and I let it loose, happy to know I could still laugh.
“Ah, Aunt Maeve. You seem like you were a character.” Not for the first time did I wonder about the true roots of her falling out with my mother. Mom said they just didn’t get along, but I’d seen enough old photos growing up to know there was a time when they did. Considering our lack of family, I thought Mom might have tried harder to stay close to her sister before it was too late.
Mom had always been far too fanciful for my tastes. She’d be more likely to spend her last dollar every month on a new crystal or a candle she just had to have than on practical things like groceries. Or rent. I looked around at the plants that were taking over Aunt Maeve’s house. Perhaps the two sisters were more alike than I’d ever considered.
The knock on my door saved me from further conversations with the urn. Or my dead aunt.
I swung the door open, letting in the morning sunshine and a waft of wet heat with it. Florida didn’t play around in the summers. It was hot and humid every hour of the day and night. And Florida wasn’t the only thing hot. Dec leaned his muscular shoulder against the frame of the front door, all confident and ridiculously good looking with his hands shoved in the front jeans pockets and arms flexing in a form-fitting T-shirt. The baseball hat was back and there was a sketch of a fish on it.
“Hey.” Yep. That was my greeting. I’d lost the ability to flirt somewhere between college and being knifed in the back by my husband, but I hadn’t lost the ability to appreciate a fine male specimen when I saw one. I could have done without the awareness that prickled my skin though.
A single eyebrow kicked up and those whiskey eyes that had looked at me with nothing but judgement, sparkled. “Ready to unglow yourself?”
I frowned at him, but that only made him smirk harder. I reached for the crossbody purse I’d packed and swung it over my head. The credit cards I’d stashed in there wouldn’t do me much good, but if a gator got me, a driver’s license to identify my body would be helpful. I also tucked a potted plant under my arm. One down, three hundred to go.
Dec stepped back to give me room to close and lock the door. I tucked the key in my purse and followed him to his truck. The fishing poles were still in the back of the truck.
“You fish a lot?” The question was one step above asking about the weather.
Dec shrugged and went to the passenger side to open my door. I looked at the running board and the height of the truck, backing up to give myself a runway. I’d need to build up speed if I was expected to jump up into that thing.
“I fish most mornings.” He held out his hand, and after a second of hesitation, I slipped my sweaty palm in his. He helped me up into the truck like an actual gentleman, which flew in the face of what I thought I knew of him. He waited until I was settled before closing the door and heading over to the driver’s side.
“I guess you eat a lot of fish, then.” Yes, still with the inane stilted conversation. I couldn’t seem to help myself.
I almost missed Dec’s shrug as I was staring out at the tiny town flicking past my window. The place was quaint. The broken sidewalks, patched up with planks of wood here and there made me relax. A few people were out and about, but most of the place seemed sleepy. After the hustle and bustle of San Francisco, this place was a beachy ghost town in comparison.
“Not really. I let the dockhands have whatever I catch.”
I spun in the fancy leather seat, eyeing Dec yet again. No, not because he was hot in a way I shouldn’t be noticing, but because I was beginning to catch on that Dec Boggs did not have to worry about money. This truck alone was worth more than the Tesla SUV Justin had insisted he needed to drive in the city.
“Are you retired?”
Dec kept his gaze on the road with one hand on the steering wheel. “You could say that.”
That was it. No further explanation. No turnaround in the string of questions to keep the conversation going. Which was fine by me. I’d said enough already. Crap, I’d practically given him my entire life story yesterday.
Dec pulled the truck into a parking spot in the main downtown area. I hadn’t gotten down this far on my bike yesterday. The storefronts were a little nicer, the paint fresh and the sidewalk no longer a trip hazard. The store right in front of us said Hair Today Dye Tomorrow and I instantly loved it. Anybody who can weave in a good pun was all right in my book.
I pushed the truck door open and slid out, landing on the one and only pair of sandals I brought with me. “Thanks for the ride!” I shut the door before Dec could respond, which probably wasn’t very nice after he’d given me a ride, but I couldn’t think of any further conversation starters.
“Wait.” Dec came jogging around the back of the truck. “Take my cell number. Call or text when you’re done and I’ll come get you.”
We exchanged information and I felt bad for almost running off. He even walked over and held open the salon door so I could stroll into the place with my potted plant with ease. Who knew Dec had a hidden gentleman under that baseball hat? The air-conditioning worked on cooling the sweat that had kicked up on the back of my neck while in Dec’s presence. The salon was all white and glass, looking bright and cheery and modern, which was a relief. I watched Dec walk back to his truck, filling out those jeans like a Wrangler ad out on the range in Montana.
“You must be Kenna!”
I spun back around to see a woman coming from the back room, her bright red hair the most beautiful thing I’d seen on a woman in years. She had it styled with full-body curls and a little scarf that matched her black high-top Converse shoes as a headband.
“Hi.” I gave an awkward wave and offered her the plant. “Yes, I’m Kenna and I probably have the worst home dye job you’ve ever seen.”
