Page 52 of Falling for the Wrong Guy

“Nah, we weren’t on that level of niceties, if you know what I mean. Two of them and one was as big as you. Maybe even bigger.” He laughed. “Wasn’t sure that was possible. They were hanging around your boat, so I came out on deck and asked what they were doing. The smaller one snapped at me. ‘Mind your own business, old man.’ I stayed right there on deck, with my arms crossed and a stern expression to let them know I was keeping an eye on them. Wouldn’t be the first time someone told me to mind my own business, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“Well, they aren’t friends, Oscar, and stay clear of them. They’re not nice people.” I reached inside the wheelhouse and grabbed my coat and gloves. It was time I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got busy. I needed to find those coins, but first, I needed to find these jerks.

I took off on the motorcycle. The cold wind against my face helped restore my energy. This morning had been a big setback, but it was time to move past it, past Aria, and finish what I started. No more beautiful distractions.

I knew the two men were riding motorcycles, and they were searching around rocky beaches. I’d been south, but I hadn’t gone north past the lighthouse. It would no longer be Whisper Cove, but I was running out of places to look in the cove. I pulled off and rode toward the lighthouse first in case they’d stopped there. Thanks to the two fishermen, I knew they’d already searched the jetty, and I knew they’d been down to the cove below the Lovely sisters’ cottage. Aria had been alone on the beach with them. That thought made me clench the handlebars harder and sent a chill through my bones.

The only vehicle in the gravel patch outside the lighthouse was a maintenance truck. I turned the bike around and headed back to the coastal highway. I reached another turnoff to a vista that overlooked a rugged piece of coastline. There was a short trail that led down to a lower lookout point, but from there, the cliffside looked impassable. There was no sign of the motorcycles. Two teenagers were hiking up a slim path that cut between the rocks. It didn’t look like it was supposed to be a trail, but that didn’t stop them. They were carrying their fishing rods and gear.

“Hey, how far down can you go from here?” I asked.

One boy was wearing a yellow rain slicker, and it was wet, so I knew they’d gotten pretty close to the water. He looked at his friend as if asking permission to let the stranger in on their secret fishing spot.

“I’m just looking to get closer to the water,” I said.

“Walk down this path, then you’ll see a rock with some graffiti. Turn right at that rock. Then it’s up to you to find the best path across. There’s a ridge at the edge with a flat end where you can sit and throw a line in if you have one. But you’ll get wet, and watch out for a rogue wave. One once took my line and all my gear.”

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll keep watch for a big wave.” We shuffled past each other on the narrow path. A rock with a crazy amount of graffiti, every color and lettering style, sat big and imposing in the middle of the rocks. I turned right and found my footing along a series of rocks with just enough flat surface to keep myself upright. I reached the flat edge the kid was talking about. A spray of salt water fanned out over the rocks. He was right. I got wet.

I walked to the right and the left, stooping down to look in deep crevices or splits between big rocks. The hunt for these coins always left me with the same feeling of hopelessness. How on earth was I supposed to find a box of coins in the middle of a rocky outcropping? These rocks were mostly high enough to be protected from a storm surge or high tide, but it was not part of the cove. If Quinn hid the coins in Whisper Cove, then I was really grasping at straws out here. An angry wave splashed against the rocks below sending a salty shower over me. It was going to be a cold ride back.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and rushed to pull it out. A moment of dread flashed through me as I saw Angie’s name on the text. I opened it and was relieved to find she’d sent me a picture of an old photo. Quinn and I had our arms over each other’s shoulders, and I had my spare arm draped over a crutch. I had a blue fiberglass cast on my leg. My phone rang. It was Angie.

“I was going through the kitchen drawer looking for Max’s stegosaurus. He put it in there to sleep for the night. He said he couldn’t stay in bed with the rest of them because the brontosaurus was mad at Stegie.”

“Man, I wish I was a dinosaur living in Max’s world. Cozy bed, amazing acrobatic skills and Max there to referee any arguments.”

“That photo was at the bottom of the drawer. Quinn scribbled on the back ‘when Dex’s dream of being a stuntman died.’”

I laughed. “So true, and you know, I actually thought I could get a gig driving cars through flames and jumping off tall buildings. It all sounded like a cool idea until I decided to try my first real stunt by jumping off the side of the garage. The neighbor had put an old mattress out for trash pickup, and that was all I needed for the dimmest lightbulb to go off in my head. We dragged the mattress over, and I took a running leap. Only I ran too fast and jumped too far.”

I could hear Angie wince through the phone. “Quinn mentioned the mattress stunt to me a few times.”

“Yep, broke the tibia in my right leg. I didn’t want to get in trouble, so I limped around on it for the rest of the night, telling my parents I just sprained my ankle jumping off my skateboard. Quinn came over and told the whole story because he worried that my leg was going to heal in a funny position. He was probably right about that. By the time he told my parents, my foot and leg were so swollen, I could barely feel my toes.”

“Oh, Dex, I can’t wait to see the two of you hanging out together again.” She paused to catch her breath. “It’s so hard. Every day is so hard. I’m just heading out to work. The boss gets mad if I check my phone too often.”

“Even though she knows why you’re checking it?” I asked.

“She’s a terrible boss. Not like the lovely woman you were telling me about yesterday. What was her name? Ariel? I have to say, I’ve never heard you speak so fondly of a woman before.”

I stared down at my legs as they got hit with another spray of seawater. My boots were waterproof, but my jeans, not so much. “Yeah, about Aria and my new job—” I took a deep breath.

“Uh oh, what happened?”

“I misread the whole situation. It’s done. I’m fine. I’m out on a bank of rocks right now looking for that darn box. No luck so far. Hey, Ang, there are some guys in town. They ride choppers and probably give off that outlaw gang vibe. Let me know if you see anyone on a chopper outside the house or work. And stay well clear of them.”

She groaned in frustration. “What a mess we’re in. I’ll never forgive Quinn for this. Gonna give him a piece of my mind the second he wakes up.” It was nice to hear her thinking on the positive side of things. She had a tendency to dwell on the pessimistic end. Not that I blamed her. So far, we hadn’t been given one bit of news that felt positive.

“I better get going. The boss also gets mad if I’m even one minute late.”

“Some people let all that power go to their heads,” I said. “The worst trait for becoming management. I’ll see you later, and as always, let me know if you hear anything. I think I’m going to head over to the hospital once I get back up to the road.”

“Be careful. No more blue casts,” she said with a laugh as she hung up. She rarely sounded so cheery.

I hoped that meant her intuition was telling her better days were ahead of us.

ChapterThirty-Four

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