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“Heck yeah!”
Forty-Nine
CASH
My palms are sweating.I check my watch for the fifty-millionth time since I arrived outside the entrance to Diver’s Point. It’s one minute until eight, and she’s not here yet. She might not have forgiven me.
I hear the crunch and putter of Ol’ Rusty’s approach, and a sense of certainty slides into place.
She’s here.
This is my shot.
June parks the car, and I open the door for her and offer her a hand, and she takes it.
She looks classically beautiful as always, blonde hair tied back, wearing a blouse covered in hot peppers, and a pair of cutoff jeans. She’s tied another ribbon in her hair, and her lips are bright red tonight.
“June, you look stunning.”
“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she says, pointing at her sneakers. “You said the quarry. Which, uh, have to admit I was confused by.”
I laugh. “You think I’m going to make you hike up to it in the dark?”
“Maybe? I don’t know what to expect in Heatstroke. This place turns people crazy.”
“The only thing I’m crazy for is you,” I say.
She takes a breath, looking up at me through those long lashes.
“I wanted to show you something,” I say, and then I take her hand and walk her through the entrance to the trail. “It’s not Diver’s Point.”
“That’s a relief.” She laughs.
“But I thought it was important we meet here instead of at the main gate.”
“Main gate?”
I nod, guiding her along a side trail that runs along the border fence. “You know that the quarry is privately owned property.”
“Sure. Mr. Carter’s place,” she says.
“He owns the land, the ranch house, the quarry itself. He’s getting on in years. Has been struggling to maintain the quarry and Diver’s Point, even to run his ranch. He’s sold all his cattle.”
“Oh.” She sounds mildly confused.
I lead her around the corner, and June gasps.
With the porch lights on, the ranch house, a sprawling, three-story wood cabin, looks cozy as heck. The pathway toward it is lined with lanterns, and the trees that border the house itself have been decorated with fairy lights that twinkle in the darkness.
“It’s beautiful,” June says.
“It’s yours.”
“W-what?”
“Or ours,” I say. “I bought it. I bought it and the quarry.”
She’s speechless, staring at me on the path, shaking her head in disbelief.
