Page 39 of Fraud
This double-life thing was tougher than I’d thought, especially when dating was involved.
Sprinting around the room, I threw on a pair of dark jeans and an emerald-green sweater. Running a brush through my hair, I grabbed a pair of boots and practically ran back into the living room.
I found him in nearly the same spot I’d left him in, staring at old photos near my dining table.
No Laura Stone paraphernalia anywhere.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I made a mental note to buy a filing cabinet.
One that locked.
That was one aspect of my life I did not want to explain—at least, not yet.
Maybe not ever.
“Who’s this in the water with you?” Killian asked, pointing to a faded Polaroid on the mantel.
“Um, no one special. You ready to go?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice my unease.
“Sure, let’s go.”
I followed him out, turning off the lights and locking the door to my apartment.
And all the memories it held.
“This is where we’re going?” I asked as we pulled up to a deserted parking lot along the shore.
“You’ve never had a picnic at the beach?” he asked as the engine cut off.
I could hear the gentle sound of the waves coming in, one after the other. It was peaceful and calming even if I couldn’t see them.
“No. Well, I mean, yes, but usually during the day.”
He smiled, grabbing the keys from the ignition, and then he pushed open the driver’s door. “Exactly, which is why we’re doing it at night.”
I couldn’t find any reason to protest his logic, so I followed his lead.
He popped open the trunk and pulled out several grocery bags. “I did warn you, my knowledge of food around here doesn’t extend much further than fast food or the grocery store.”
I nodded. “You did.” Helping him out, I grabbed the last of the groceries and tagged along behind him down the beach. “I guess this means, no fast food?” I asked.
He took my hand and helped me around a large boulder. The Oregon Coast was rocky, and it took a bit of concentration to navigate the darkened path.
“Not tonight.” He laughed.
Once we made it to the sand, it was much less treacherous. We walked side by side, listening to the waves crash, as he pointed to several other people enjoying the evening.
“I don’t remember the last time I was actually at a beach,” he commented as we found a place in the sand, not too far from the water.
“I used to go all the time,” I said. “I grew up a few hours from here.”
“Is that why you went to Fremont?” he asked. “To be close to your family?”
I’d settled on the task of unloading some of the bags we’d brought down. But, the moment he mentioned family, I faltered, dropping an entire bag on the ground.
“Sorry,” I said, reaching down to survey the damage. Luckily, nothing breakable was inside. Just a few bags of marshmallows and chocolate.
“Are you planning on feeding the entire beach?” I asked.
