I'm Not Your Enemy (Enemies 2)

The lot I’d found was on the eastern outskirts, essentially as far away as one could get from the marina that jacked up the prices in the area. Past the last houses on Marten Lane, blurring the line between civilization and forest, I found the place.

I was so used to thinking in terms of acres, but that wasn’t possible here. 16.000 square feet of overgrown grass, shrubs, and a few trees. The back of the property was cut off by boulders and a cliffside that melted into the forest, creating a natural fence that a kid certainly couldn’t climb. Still, I pulled out my pocket-sized notebook from the glove box so I could jot down safety netting. We couldn’t risk falling rocks.

“All right, boys. Welcome to our temporary home, I guess.” I dropped the notebook on my lap and drove past the property line, making sure I didn’t hit anything on the way in. The best part of the deal was that all utilities were ready and waiting at the edge of the lot—water, electricity, gas, sewer. Permits were in place too.

This was gonna be good for me. Something to take my mind off Rosie and my folks.

There were times I definitely didn’t mind waking up to the feel of a tongue on my skin. Spending the nights at Sebastian’s place came to mind, for instance. He came to mind way too often…

This was nowhere near as exciting, unfortunately. I just had two dogs that needed their morning walk.

“All right, all right.” I grunted and sat up, and I squinted at the orange canvas above me. Rain was splashing down on the tent, as it had for the past three days I’d been here.

Pop-up tents for trucks were a brilliant idea if you were going hiking. You could sleep in the bed of your truck and make it real comfortable—but when it wouldn’t stop raining, it got old fast. I couldn’t work. I couldn’t use the grill I’d bought and set up right outside. Unless I bought an umbrella… I’d do that later today.

After pulling on my jeans, I stuck my feet into my boots and opened the canvas door. Raindrops hit my shoulders. It was cold too. Fucking hell, we weren’t in Georgia anymore. Then I lifted out the boys and let them do their thing on the lawn. Or what would be a lawn.

I rolled my shoulders and reached for a tee inside the truck, followed by my jacket and Bulldogs ball cap. According to the weather forecast, it was going to be a nice weekend, and I was ready to work at full speed around the clock if I had to.

Everything was here. Equipment, the cabin kit, supplies—I’d gathered it all under tarps along the fence of the only next-door neighbor around.

I took a big breath and inhaled the forest. It was probably what I liked the most about Washington. Not getting bit up by red fire ants and the forest. Rosie and I used to hunt deer together in the fall; she’d been an amazing partner, and she’d loved the woods too.

“Daddy’s ready for breakfast,” I declared. “We’re gonna check out some nearby hiking trails later too. Y’all lazy little shits need to exercise.”

Oppy and Percy yipped and ran around my feet as I grabbed my essentials from the tent. With a snap of a string, the top of the tent collapsed, and I was able to roll the cargo cover over the whole thing. Then I picked up the boys and opened the door to the back. My belongings fit into four duffels that filled the floor, and it kind of worked out. With the bags creating an extension to the seat, I’d bought a travel pen that fit perfectly and gave the dogs room to move around. And I didn’t have to worry about them falling between any cracks or whatever.

I was a worrier when it came to these two rascals. They were basically rats.

Once I’d strapped their carrier into place, I got behind the wheel and peeled out of there.

Daddy needed a shower today too. I fucking reeked.

“Maybe a hotel wouldn’t hurt one night,” I muttered to myself. Did they even have hotels in this tiny-ass town?

The goddamn rain made everything worse. It caused me to wake up in a bad mood, and not being able to work made my mind wander. I’d almost driven over to Sebastian’s house on the beach last night.

I needed something to do.

I drummed my fingers along the wheel and drove through the stretch of forest that led to a neighborhood called Cedar Valley. Soph had once recommended a couple gay-friendly bars there. It reminded me of a miniature version of Seattle, and I could admit they had some fantastic food in the area. They knew their burgers and their seafood.