Page 90 of Until It Was Real

“Visitors can’t handle Smuggler’s Hideaway moonshine,” Sadie mutters before clapping her hands to get their attention. “Okay, boys. You have two choices here. Get your asses up and get to your room. Or get run over since you’re laying in the parking lot.”

“No wonder this bed isn’t comfortable,” one of them says before stumbling to his feet. He sways but manages to stay upright.

Sadie and I help the other two men to stand. One of the men wraps an arm around me and leans into me. I nearly fall over from his weight.

Somehow, we manage to get the men into the motel and up the stairs to their room. They can’t find their key but I open the door with the master.

“I’ll alert housekeeping they’ll need extra time with their room tomorrow,” I say once the men are tucked away in their room.

Sadie skips down the steps and toward the door. She spins around before she reaches it to wag a finger at me. “We’ll discuss your bad experience with men tomorrow.”

Darn. I thought I got away with avoiding the conversation. I’ll have to think up some excuse tomorrow.

Chapter 28

“My brothers are assholes.” ~ Rhett

Rhett

“Where are we going?” Dakota asks as I drive away from theMermaid Motel.

I drum my fingers on the steering wheel as I contemplate how to answer. Will she go running back to the motel screaming if I tell her the truth before we arrive?

“You have camping gear in the backseat. Are we going camping?”

Damn. I should have put the gear in the rear. “Kind of.”

“Rhett Raider, tell me where we’re going this minute.”

“Uh oh. The last name treatment. I’m in trouble now.” I pause and decide to take a chance. “Have you heard of the Smuggler’s Grotto?”

“No. Tell me. Smuggler’s Hideaway is fascinating.” She tucks her right ankle under her left knee and settles in to listen.

I’m glad she enjoys Smuggler’s Hideaway, because if I have it my way, she won’t be leaving the island anytime soon.

“Smuggler’s Grotto is a hidden cave system beneath the island. According to legend, it was used by pirates and later by Prohibition-era rumrunners.”

“Really? Sounds cool. I’m surprised I haven’t heard of it. The motel guests are always asking about touristy things to visit.”

I squirm in my seat. “There’s a catch.”

“A catch? What kind of catch? Is it part of a magical system and you need a wand to enter?”

I chuckle. “A wand to enter?”

She shrugs. “I fell asleep watching Harry Potter last night.”

“No magical system, although.” I pause. This next part may freak her out. “It’s supposedly haunted by ghosts of betrayed smugglers who still guard their stolen treasure.”

“Haunted? I’m surprised there weren’t organized tours during theGhost Tide Festival.”

“The area isn’t safe enough for tours.”

She lifts a brow. “And yet we’re going there?”

I frown. “Because I don’t have a choice.”

“You don’t have a choice? Is someone holding a gun to your head?” She checks the backseat for any stragglers. “Unless they’re invisible, I don’t see anyone.”

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