Page 48 of Beach Reads
I’m in a rut. Need something big to shake me loose. But Miriam gives me thislook, pursing her lips, and my stomach twists.
“No one is gonna tellyourfuture, Betty. That shit’s messed up.” The bell above the door rings as someone walks in, and she sighs and shakes her head. “Here it comes.”
‘It’ is a man in his late thirties, dressed in gray jeans, boots, and a black t-shirt. His face is weathered and tan, his dark hair cropped short and lighter at the temples. Though his clothes are casual, his posture is not.
This is a man who’s always on alert. The sort of man who never, ever gets jumped in an alley—not if the muggers know what’s good for them.
I straighten behind the counter, my heartbeat picking up speed.
Maybe it’s an animal reaction. Instinct, you know? My lizard brain whispering:danger.
Except I’m not scared as he approaches the counter, his dark eyes sliding briefly to the cupcakes then settling back on me. I’m not tensed to run.
It’s weird. I’m… exhilarated.
This is the feeling I used to get as a kid, thrown about by the waves at the beach. The feeling I got from running as fast as I could, sneakers slapping against the sidewalk, the wind streaming against my face. That same thrill. A single look from this man and I’m sparking back to life, my body humming as it comes back online after months on the fritz.Danger, danger.
“All yours,” Miriam murmurs, drifting away to the stock cupboard.
The man stops in front of the counter. I peel my tongue off the roof of my mouth. “Um. Hi. What can I get for you?”
His eyes areintense.So brown they’re nearly black. The man doesn’t smile when he looks at me, but something sparks behind those eyes. Some secret interest, like he’s never seen anything like me before.
Ha. Blonde, tattooed baristas with rumpled aprons? We’re on every block. The city is lousy with us.
“Coffee,” he says. “Black.”
“Like your soul?” I say, teasing before my survival instincts kick in.
The man’s eyes glitter. “Something like that.”
I make his coffee, steam hissing, beans grinding. I’m wearing a goofy smile the whole time.
When he walks away with his drink, I’m sad to see him go—until my eyes widen at the tip jar. When did he slide a hundred dollar bill in there? Andwhy? I’m not that funny.
“Miriam,” I call, “get your ass out here right now. You need to see this.”
And we’re so caught up with his giant tip, laughing and prodding at the jar, that I forget what we were talking about before.
I forget Miriam’s warnings about my future.
* * *
You’d think the higher I climb above the lava, the less intense the heat should be. But no—as I reach the top of the slope, the air is so hot it shimmers. I sway in my leather boots, dizzy from hiking for hours. My running group did not prepare me for this.
“What happens if it erupts?”
Silence. I wave away a bug.
“Echo. What happens if the volcano erupts?” The peak still seems like miles away, and if you looked at it fast, you’d think it was a snowy mountain top. But nope: that’s ash, streaked with fiery lava.
“You must have studied Geography in school.” The agent sounds bored in my ear. “Or watched the news a few times. What do you think happens, Miss Hale?”
I think I die. I die a horrible, gruesome death, and assuming Agent Dawes survives, these jerks move on to plan B without losing a wink of sleep.Tried that, moving on.
“I’ll haunt your ass,” I grumble, trudging closer to the trees. “Don’t think I won’t.” Obviously, compared to an eruption, the trees are no shelter at all—but it still makes me feel better. Less exposed.
“Just don’t wander onto the lava field.” Echo says it like I have exactly one brain cell, and no spares. “Stay near the jungle, and look for signs of Agent Dawes. We didn’t bring you here for a vacation. Get on with it.”
