Up in Flames (Rosemary Beach 13)

Cope was a mean-ass, cold-hearted, lethal soldier. Not a Casanova. I had to figure something out, because his idea was a bust.

As if he was currently reading my mind, my phone buzzed.

Her house right now. Take the blue envelope.

Stupid bullshit. It’s obviously not working, I replied, sitting on my kitchen counter with a soda.

Do it was his response.

Fucker. I might hate the bastard.

I was positive I hated the bastard. Control freak.

Nan

My bowl of popcorn with milk chocolate morsels scattered throughout sat in my lap, and season three, episode five, of Gossip Girl played on my flatscreen. This was escaping. I was happy here. Like this. No damn letters showing up, no one watching me and judging me. Assuming they knew all about me when they knew nothing. Small-minded idiots. I needed a Chuck Bass. He’d get me. He’d understand me. We were one and the same, Chuck and I.

My doorbell rang, and I set my bowl of goodness to the side and sighed in frustration. This had better be good if it was interrupting my perfect afternoon.

I should have peeked through the hole or glanced out the window. But no, I was in a hurry to get rid of the person on the other side of the door. So when I opened it and Major was standing there with a blue envelope in his hand, I wanted to scream in frustration.

“What is with you and these damn envelopes? Is it not enough to hunt me down in public? You have to come after me in private, too? Maybe I could start texting you my daily whereabouts so you don’t waste your time tracking me down. Would that be helpful?”

I snatched the envelope from his hand, expecting him to respond. But he didn’t. He just turned and walked away. Again.

Damn him.

I tore open the envelope and pulled out the same stationery. The very sight of it was beginning to annoy me.

Smart quips. Another thing that makes you beautiful.

I jerked my gaze up, hoping to find him still in earshot so I could yell curse words at him and see how smart he thought those quips were. But he was already in his truck and pulling away.

There were four envelopes now, and I tried not to look at them as I walked past them. I tried to figure out a place to hide them or possibly throw them away. But I did neither. I kept them there; the idea of tossing them didn’t sit well with me. They were my letters. They didn’t say much, but they were mine. They were about me. Something someone saw in me and thought enough about to write it down.

I might be done with Major Colt, but the letters were important.

No one had ever given me letters before. No one had taken the time to point out things about me that they had noticed. Even if my tight clothing was one of those things. It was something. Something more than I imagined anyone would say to me in such a unique way.

Written words were touching, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, they struck a chord in me. They made my walls crumble a little more with each note. They made me feel less untouchable and more real.

I wasn’t sure when the letters would stop. When he’d give up on me. I didn’t want them to. I was beginning to look forward to them. They were getting under my skin, and I wanted him to say something. Anything. Tell me why he was doing this.

But more than all that, I wished it was Gannon. And that was where my problem lay.

Major

I wasn’t doing that again. She had yelled at me and been furious yesterday. Waiting for Cope’s instructions was pointless. I was going after him to tell him how this wasn’t working and I needed to do things my way. Not his dumb-ass way. I probably wouldn’t call him a dumb-ass, though. I wanted to live. I liked life.

The old motel he used for surveillance was rough, but he liked it. He thought he drew less attention at places like this. He also knew all about the man who owned it, his family, and how long he’d been running the place—all kinds of shit. The owner didn’t seem like a chatty guy, but he was curious about others around him and asked them questions about themselves. Surprisingly, they answered him.

I knocked once, knowing he was well aware that it was me out here. He had cameras all over the place and had seen me the moment I drove up. Possibly sooner.

The door opened, and he looked at me like he was bored with my presence already. “Sugar Shak with Nate in one hour. Give her the mint one,” he said, then closed the door in my face.

Was he shitting me? I didn’t drive out here to get my next marching orders. He knew that, too. I knocked again and tried to curb my temper.

He didn’t open the door back up.

I knocked one more time.

Nothing.

Fucker.

I hated this son of a bitch.

Nan

“Aunt Nan? Why is Major putting something on your car window?” Nate asked, as he stared out into the street where I’d parked my car and licked at his chocolate chip ice cream cone.

I turned to see Major walking away from my car and back to his truck. There was a pale green envelope tucked under my windshield wiper. Interesting. He hadn’t come to hand it to me today.

“Maybe he needed to leave me a note and didn’t want to bother us,” I suggested.

“We could’ve shared our ice cream with him. Don’t he know that?” Nate replied sincerely.

“Maybe the temptation to ruin his dinner was too much, so he decided to stay away from it.”

Nate thought about that and nodded like it made sense. “Guess adults think about that. I just want the ice cream.”

I smiled and licked my orange sorbet. “Honestly, Nate, I do, too.”

Nate beamed at me, and the touch of ice cream on his upper lip was precious. “That’s why we’re buddies, you and me. We think like each other.”