Page 34 of The Book Club Boyfriend
I decide to leave her to sulk and head to the counter to order. “See you soon, Calloway.”
Chapter Twelve
Enemies with Electricity
Scarlett
The storm rolls in fast.
One minute, the lake is calm, the sky painted in soft pinks and oranges from the sunset. The next, the temperature drops—that sudden, skin-prickling chill that makes the hair on my arms stand up. The air grows thick and electric, heavy with the metallic scent of approaching rain.
Through the windows, I watch the lake transform from placid blue to angry gray-green, whitecaps forming like bared teeth. A wall of gray clouds barrels in, and the wind starts whipping my patio furniture around the deck. I rush outside, barely managing to drag the chairs closer to the house before the first fat raindrops splatter against my arms—irregular plops that quickly become a deafening drumroll against the roof.
I’ve justmade it back inside when—boom!
Thunder doesn’t just sound—it vibrates through the floorboards, rattling the dishes in the cupboard. The whole cottage groans against the wind, wood creaking like an old ship at sea.
Then, violent and sudden, another crack of thunder shakes the air, and the power cuts out completely.
I stare into the now pitch-black interior of my house. Are you freaking kidding me?
With a sigh, I grab my phone and turn on the flashlight. I manage to scrounge up a single candle, but no matches.
I grab my laptop, thinking maybe I’ll write. The faint glow of the screen is barely enough to see by, but I try to make the best of it.
With the Wi-Fi out, it’s actually every writer’s dream—the Internet can be a massive distraction.
But my laptop is low on battery, and a warning flashes on the screen.Great. I close it. No writing tonight. And no Netflix either. No distractions from my own miserable thoughts.
Maybe it’ll come back on soon.
It doesn’t.
I give it fifteen minutes, then thirty. Nothing. Just the sound of rain hammering the roof, the wind lashing at the windows. My phone battery is at a tragic 18%, and I left my portable charger in my suitcase. Somewhere in the dark abyss that ismy bedroom.
Perfect.
I mutter to myself about how this was supposed to be a peaceful, distraction-free summer. A chance to recharge, to figure out what the hell is wrong with me and why I can’t write this damn book. Now, I can’t even charge my laptop, let alone my brain.
I grab a blanket, throw myself onto the couch, and try to convince myself that this is fine.
Except it’snot fine.
Because it’s muggy as hell with no AC, my phone is dying, and worst of all… I’m bored.
I pace the small living room, stopping dead in my tracks when I see lights glowing from next door. Chase’s house has electricity. I flip the light switch a few times to make sure I’m not losing it.
Nothing.With an irritated groan, I storm over to the door.Fine.If the universe wants to screw with me, then I’ll screw right back.
I’m going to knock on Chase Remington’s door, demand to charge my cell phone, and leave without engaging in a single second of unnecessary conversation.
This is survival.Not some excuse to see him again.
Not at all.
I yank open the front door, immediately regretting everything.
The wind practically body-slams me, sending my hair flying into my face, rain pelting my skin like tiny bullets. I stagger forward, pulling my arms around myself as I stomp across the small stretch of sand and grass to his annoyingly well-lit rental.
