Page 38 of When Glitter Meets Gold

I grin. “Thanks. I think.”

Drew scratches his chin, then shrugs. “I guess I understand.” He places a hand over his chest. “Secrets safe with me. Let me know if you need help with the interview.”

Before I can thank him, the phone on the dresser rings.

I discard the empty strawberry bowl and pick up the receiver.

A voice with a slight European accent greets me. “Hello, I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I wanted to let you know that an item addressed to you was delivered to reception.”

I frown. “What’s the item?”

“Hard to say, it’s in an envelope. Shall I send it up? I can deliver it personally.” The voice chirps, and I can’t help but wonder where this friendliness was during my lecture about losing the room key.

“That’s okay, I’ll come down,” I say, deciding that stepping out of the room is good for both of us right now.

When I hang up, I find Drew leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knee and his fists tucked under his chin.

“I have to go downstairs for a second.” I slip into the bathroom and tug on underwear. He grunts in acknowledgement from the bed as I step into a fine knit, off the shoulder, mint green dress with batwing sleeves. Then I push my feet into gorgeous Valentino stiletto boots before looping my hair back into a tight knot at my neck.

When I step out from behind the door, Drew is placing his fingertips to his forehead before slumping back onto the bed.

“Hey,” I say, grabbing a pair of silver hoop earrings from the dresser. “I think I’m going to get out of here. I thought I could stay, but the truth is, I’ve seen more than enough of Maine.” He looks like I’ve driven a stake through his heart. “But why don’t you stay instead? It’s already paid for,” I say a little bitterly. “Someone might as well enjoy it.”

Drew lowers his hands, raising an eyebrow.

“I couldn’t.”

“Seriously, stay.”

Drew frowns but there’s a hint of a smile desperate to break through. “I mean, I’d have to pay you something. This place is awesome.”

“We can figure it out later.” I feel my shoulders relax because I’m just so glad to be getting out of here.

He looks up at me. “Hey, you won’t tell anyone about the whipped cream thing, right?” He circles a finger at his crotch. “We can keep that part secret, right? I mean, if you’re not mad about the whole thing?”

A vulgar snort expels from my nostrils. “I lied about liking sport so you’d notice me, surely that puts me on some kind of CrossFit hit list and makes us even?”

“No such thing.” Drew’s entire face lights up at the mention of CrossFit. “We’re a forgiving community. You should really try it.”

I place a hand on his chest. “Drew, I will never ever try it. And it feels so good to finally say that to you.”

The name badge on the receptionist readsMarco.As soon as he spots me, he places a rectangular envelope on the desk, and then, to my surprise, he hauls my backpack alongside it.

My brows knit together as I tear open the corners of the envelope and find my cell phone snugly arranged in the parcel. It’s on deathly low battery, but it’s alive. I can’t stop myself from squealing at the prospect of endless doomscrolling the moment I exit the lobby.

I quickly scroll through hundreds of unread notifications. A bulk are from Drew, I flick through them, grinning as I skim over his one-sided conversation where he talks himself into flying out here to find me. Then I scroll to the ones from Amber where she considers why Drew wanted to know the hotel I was staying in. They’re followed by a string of questions speculating why I haven’t replied, ranging from dropping my phone in the toilet (again) and kidnapping.

The last one from her readsIf you don’t reply within the hour, I’m filing a missing person’s report.

The message was sent fifty-two minutes ago. I type a quick reply, telling her to calm down and promising to call later.

I shake the envelope and discover a note written in black ink.

It reads:Property of Sara Kirby, retrieved from Jeep Wrangler. Vehicle unsalvageable, appropriate agencies contacted.

I crush the note in my hand as I wonder exactly who the “appropriate agencies” are.

“Did you see who left these?” I ask as I inspect the box, wondering if I’m dealing with Mountain Rescue, cops, or insurance companies waiting to bleed me dry.

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