Let’s do this.
I ducked under the boom barrier, crept along the brick wall, then simply turned around and walked right back up to the outpost. Casual as fuck, as if I’d been strolling up the road this entire time.
Toward a sanitarium. At seven in the morning. As one does.
The guard did a double-take to see me, his eyes widening, and his feet dropped to the ground.
“Hi,” I said, snapping my gum.
“How did…?” The guard looked all around, over his shoulder and then back to me. “Can I help you, miss?”
“Maybe,” I said with a flirty smile. I folded my arms on the window, pushing my breasts up.
Hell, it worked for Erin Brockovich.
“I think I’m lost,” I said. “I’m in town for the Celebrity Rabies Fun Run Race for the Cure? They said it was supposed to start around here.”
I held my breath. If this guy was a super-fan of The Office I was toast, but it was all my brain could come up with on the fly.
The guard squinted. “The what?”
“Haven’t heard of it? Bummer. Wi-Fi up here is shitty. My GPS must’ve sent me the wrong way.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “It’s a long wrong way up this hill.”
Slow down. Be cool. Act natural.
“You’re telling me.” I smiled bigger, leaned closer. “What is this place, anyway?”
“Blue Ridge Sanitarium,” he said. “Brain injury cases.”
I widened my eyes and lowered my sunglasses to show him I had nothing to hide. “No shit?”
He nodded, and his glance went longingly back to his TV. Immune to my charms. And, apparently, my boobs.
“No shit,” he muttered. “Hope you find your fun run.”
“Me too.” I blew a bubble and let it pop. “Have a good one.”
I patted the window frame in parting, turned, and sauntered down the winding road as fast as I could without looking like I was trying to hurry. When the curve took me out of sight of the outpost, I ran like hell. Any second, the security guard was going to wonder who in their right mind did a fun run for rabies.
Michael Scott, that’s who…
A relieved laugh burst out of m
e and morphed into a gasp as I rounded the last bend in the road and came to where the sanitarium drive met the main road. I stopped short, staring.
Jimmy leaned against the driver’s side door of an old green pickup truck, mind-blowingly handsome in his leather jacket, jeans, and boots. His hair was slick with a morning shower. He nervously checked his phone then glanced around. His arms fell slack when he saw me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He pushed off the door. “I heard you needed a ride to New York.”
I stared, happiness exploding across my heart. “I thought you left me.”
“And I told you I’d never give up on you.”
Tears threatened, and I crossed my arms, refusing to turn into a complete puddle at his feet.