Page 41 of Quarter Miles (Runaway 3)

“She just wanted to check in.”

“That’s good. Did she say anything about work?”

“No.”

My heart sank. I put out metaphorical fires daily at the resort. Didn’t anyone need my help? How was it that I ran myself ragged for days but no one had reached out? No one. Not even Carol.

But that meant she was handling it. I was replaceable.

It wasn’t something I wanted to admit.

Work was my life and without it, who was I? The friends I had were from the resort. Everyone in my life was connected to the Greers. I hadn’t dated a man in seven years because I hadn’t had—or made—time.

I’d been so focused on the tiny sphere of my world that I’d forgotten there was more beyond.

And what a beautiful world.

The highway had been bordered by thick bushes, limiting the view beyond the road. But as the Cadillac crested the top of a hill, the greenery cleared and there it was.

Heron Beach. Beyond the town, the ocean stretched.

White, foamy waves broke against a smooth, sandy beach. On the horizon, blue sky met the Pacific, gray waters and the colors blurring into an ombre line.

“I’ve never seen the ocean,” I whispered, my eyes trapped on the view. The car slowed as I pulled my foot from the accelerator, wanting more time to savor this view. I rolled down my window, wanting to feel the air on my face. The salty air filled my nostrils and I held it in my lungs.

“Really?” Cash asked. “What about California?”

“No.” Temecula was an inland town and it wasn’t like Mom had believed in mother-daughter vacations to the beach. “It’s beautiful.”

And suddenly, Montana’s firm hold, the grip it had caught me with at eighteen, began to loosen.

What if I didn’t live and work in Montana my entire life? What if I gave Oregon a try? I could see myself living here, walking along the beach each morning with a dog who chased his own tail. I could ride a bike with a wicker basket around the quaint, small town. Maybe one of the beach condos would fit into my price range.

Before this trip, I’d never had a desire to travel the world. To smell new scents. To explore new towns. All I’d ever wanted was to carve out a place to stay.

A home.

Londyn had set out in the Cadillac to run away. She’d wanted to create a new life and she’d found one in West Virginia. Gemma had found her place in Montana.

What if I’d been thinking about this all wrong? This trip was for me to clear my head and put my feelings for Cash aside. What if this wasn’t a vacation, but my own fresh start?

The idea startled me. I blinked, forcing it away.

No. No way. I couldn’t leave Montana.

Except I could.

“Cool place,” Cash said, sitting straighter in his seat and pulling me from the craziest idea I’d had in years—crazier even than sex with my best friend.

I hummed my agreement.

From a distance, Heron Beach was exactly as I would have pictured an ocean tourist destination. My foot pressed on the gas, ready to see it up close. As we dipped down the hill, the ocean dropped out of view, hidden by the trees towering above. Buildings sprouted along the highway.

I followed the signs into town, slowing as we hit more traffic near the coast. The downtown streets of Heron Beach teemed with people who smiled as they wandered and shopped.

Flowerpots overflowed with florescent blooms. Sun-soaked shingles covered nearly every storefront. Most businesses were retailers who probably flourished this time of year with the crush of tourists. The hotels along the way were small, likely with a capacity of ten to fifteen guests.

None were as grand as the Greer Ranch and Mountain Resort but they had a different kind of charm. I could own a hotel of that size on my own. I’d been saving for years and my nest egg would probably be enough for an oceanfront cottage. And I had that check Carol had given me for ten thousand dollars.