She hums to herself.
“What?” I ask, turning back to her.
“Nothing. I just didn’t know you were so up to date on his whereabouts.”
I glare at her, but she just keeps grinning.
“So wait. If you don’t have your car, how are you getting home?”
I sink back into the patio chair and hold my drink to my lips. Licking off some of the salt rim, I look down and mumble into my glass again.
“He left me the keys to his Porsche.”
She sits straight up so fast she almost spills her drink. She looks at me, speechless and blinking rapidly. Her shock only makes me shrink further into my chair. OK. Maybe he isn’t as much of an asshole as I like to make him out to be.
“Excuse me, what?” she asks finally.
My eyes flit beyond the balcony, toward the parking spot in the alley below us. She follows my gaze and her lips part when she sees the black luxury SUV sitting next to her and Jason’s truck. She shakes her head and slowly, her smug grin returns.
“Woof,” she says, taking a sip of her drink and looking out toward the mountains in the distance. “What a freaking man.”
I roll my eyes at her, but deep down part of me knows she’s right. By anyone else’s standards, Sutton is an extraordinary man. Just not for me.
I lookover my shoulder at Felix in the backseat. He’s curled up in a ball, completely passed out after a day at Cowgirl Coffee and spending the rest of the evening with Jason.
He looks absolutely adorable like this—snuggled into the wool blanket I found in the hatch of Sutton’s SUV, and laid down. Even if I’m still pissed about the entire thing, I don’t want Felix to damage the nice leather upholstery.
I mean who just takes someone’s car? I don’t care if he said he was going to fix my brakes. I don’t care that it be might the nicest thing someone has done for me in ages. He can’t drop in to save me like that when I don’t want him to.
I groan in frustration, slamming my hands against the steering wheel. A second later, I feel a pulsing sensation under me and along my back.
No way.
My eyes scan the buttons on the wheel and sure enough, I see the little icon of a seat with squiggly lines. I want to be mad, but these massaging seats might be the greatest invention ever.
After dialing in the settings and vowing to myself that I will own a car this nice one day, I see the roundabout that leads out of town to the mountain pass road. Almost immediately, I slam on the brakes when I spot the sheriff’s cruiser, lights flashing, blocking the entrance to the road. I pull forward and stop when the sheriff in a bright yellow safety vest approaches. I roll down the window and he tips his hat to me.
“Evening, ma’am. Where are you heading?”
My eyes drift past him and I point in that direction. “Well, I was trying to head to Rodgers. When’s the road going to reopen?”
The corner of his mouth pulls into an apologetic smile. “Not anytime soon, I’m afraid. You’re going to need to take the South Pass.”
Shit. Taking the southern mountain pass adds a full hour to my drive home, but it’s the only other option to get to Idaho from Jackson. Guess that’s just my luck tonight.
“Got it. Thanks.”
He nods. “Sorry. Wish I had better news.”
I start to roll up the window, thinking about the times this has happened in the past. This pass is notoriously bad in the winter, when avalanches can cover the road and make it impassable for hours while they clear the snow. That thought makes me pause in my tracks.
“Wait, Officer. Why is the road closed?”
This time, he grimaces at my question. “A landslide came down near one of the creeks that crosses under the road. All these heavy spring rains have really done a number on the mountain side in that area.”
Basically an avalanche with dirt and mud. Taking a detour tonight sucks, but it’ll be back to normal after they clear that.
I nod. “What time should it be open tomorrow morning?”