Page 33 of The Reason I Married Him
Wyatt:I don’t even think jaded is the right term. She was something else.
Laurel:What do you mean?
Wyatt:For one, she was not happy to see me. I’m pretty sure she growled and sneered at me when she recognized who I was. Like a feral animal ready to attack its prey.
Laurel:Aw, your future wife.
Wyatt:Yeah, if I’m fucking lucky—or unlucky. Not sure which one it would be.
Laurel:Have you done anything to her in the past that would make her so angry with you?
Wyatt:No, we’ve barely interacted. I’ve been to a few of the family gatherings and helped Cassidy and Clarke move into their farmhouse, but I’ve never done anything that would have made her mad at me. She’s younger than me, and I never thought to interact.
Laurel:Huh, so if it’s not something you did in the past, what would make her so angry?
Wyatt:She’s incredibly protective of the farm. She was calling me out for being there today. Asking why I would show up when I had no interest before. Honestly, she’s smart. She can see right through me. I tried to act like I cared. She gave me a tour, and I was spouting off shit, acting like I knew what I was talking about.
Laurel:Did she buy it?
Wyatt:I think she did. I mean, I knew some things, but I mainly talked out of my ass, hoping for the best. I was surprised with some of the things I came up with. They made sense.
Laurel:The author brain is a scary place.
Wyatt:I never believed that until today. Because while talking about cherry almond baklava, I was thinking to myself, how are you coming up with this? Where did cherry almond baklava even come from? It was impressive. Then when she ditched me because she’d had enough, I walked back to the half-finished chicken coop, looked at the plans, and started building. I got a blister.
Laurel:Aw, look at you getting your hands dirty. How cute for you.
Wyatt:I only wish I had a tool belt. It would have completed the outfit.
Laurel:I would have given anything to have a picture of you in a tool belt building a chicken coop.
Wyatt:Maybe I can muster something up for you tomorrow. Oh . . . hey, how did the second date go?
Laurel:*blushes* Good.
Wyatt:Yeah? Like . . . really good?
Laurel:Let’s just say she’s really good at kissing.
Wyatt:I assume there will be a third date?
Laurel:She told me she’s already planning it.
Wyatt:That’s awesome. I’m happy for you. Do I get to meet her?
Laurel:Maybe when you’re done building chicken coops something I never thought I’d say.
Wyatt:LOL. Me neither.
Laurel:So everyone else likes you besides the one person supposed to like you. How do you plan on fixing that?
Wyatt:Well, as far as I see it, I have two options: I can kill her with kindness until she wants to murder me, and that’s when I strike up the deal. Or I can annoy the shit out of her until she wants to murder me, and that’s when I strike up the deal. The latter seems more fun.
Laurel:The latter seems like it could end in slow, deadly torture for you.
Wyatt:It would be worth it.
So I’ve spentmy fair share of time in small towns because the best thriller novels take place in towns just like Almond Bay, where it seems like everything is pristine and perfect. In fact, there are deep, dark secrets no one knows about. But Almond Bay hits differently than any other small town I’ve visited.
