He peered behind me as I pulled the door closed. “Where is your overnight bag?”
“You’re scaring me, Vern. Am I leaving town? Do I need a passport?”
“Not tonight.” He abruptly stopped talking and tried to cover by quickly adding, “Great shoes! The car is right this way, and of course I’ll drive you back home this evening when you’re ready.”
He held open the back door of a dark car with tinted windows—the same vehicle from my first date with Dalton, but not the one Dalton had been driving himself in LA.
“How many cars does the ol’ Dalt-meister have?” I asked as I settled into the back seat. The glass divider was only open a crack. “And please lower this. I’m not a fancy person.”
The window lowered silently. “Mr. Deangelo has a few vehicles.”
We began driving, the car’s luxurious suspension making the pothole-filled street feel like a runway. Vern guided the vehicle north. I guessed we were heading to Dragonfly Lake, but I played it cool and didn’t ask. Instead, I amused myself by probing the limits of Vern’s confidentiality boundaries.
“How many turtlenecks does Dalton own?”
Vern chuckled. “Zero. He doesn’t like how broad they make him look.”
“Nobody looks good in a turtleneck.”
“I’m sure you do, Miss Monroe.”
“Does he have any food allergies?”
“Just an imaginary one to fresh-baked bread, but I’m sure you’ve heard all about that.”
“Does he date many women?”
Vern stared straight ahead at the road, the edge of his face, from what I could see, not giving away any clues.
I added, “Just stay absolutely silent if it’s a lot of women.”
“Not many,” he said quickly. “Between the series and now these films in the summer, Mr. Deangelo has a very busy schedule.”
“He doesn’t have time for a girlfriend.”
“Not really.” He turned and glanced back at me apologetically. “But he would make time for the right girl.”
“And if he has to stay late on set, then what happens? Do you order pizza with the girl and watch a movie together?”
Vern laughed in response.
I continued, “But you do live in the house with him, right? If a woman moved in, you’d be a threesome. Just a cozy little family of three.”
Still laughing, Vern reached for a button, and the glass divider between the seats began to rise.
I clicked my seatbelt undone. “Vern! Don’t you dare! I will Indiana-Jones my way over that glass and into the front seat.”
The barrier moved back down again.
We gave each other a hard time (mostly me bugging him) all the way to the woods. I pulled out my phone and was pleased to note my wireless connection actually worked. They must have put up the extra cell phone tower that had been in the works for a while.
Using GPS, I got a good look at where I was. We didn’t have this technology back in my childhood, when Shayla and I were braving the tadpole-infested shoreline. I could see that the southeast edge of Dragonfly Lake had what looked like a miniature lake, extending out like a bubble. A clump of trees lay between the water and the Veiner cabin, which explained why I hadn’t realized the cabin was lakeside, back when we visited on a school field trip.
“Everything okay, Miss Monroe? If your battery is low, I have several formats of chargers.”
“I’m fine. Just a bit nervous about—oh, HELL, NO.”
He parked the car on some grass and turned off the engine. “What’s wrong?”
“That.” I jabbed a finger through the air at the glinting UFO-shaped object. “Why did he buy a cabin if he’s going to hang out in that little sardine can?”
Vern exited the car and circled around to hold my door, but I was already out.
A good look around answered my question. The serene setting was now a construction zone, with three bright green port-a-potties, various trailers with piles of lumber, and bright orange excavation and landscaping vehicles.
The Veiner cabin, constructed of local logs, appeared to be levitating, propped up on metal legs.
A dark-haired man appeared in the doorway of the cabin and carefully stepped down the muddy plywood ramp leading to the ground. Because of how he was dressed—steel-toed boots and a red-checked flannel jacket—I thought he was a construction worker, until he flashed me that million-dollar smile.
Banging and sawing noises continued from inside and around the cabin.
“We’re running late,” he shouted over the noise, striding toward me. “This noise will stop within the hour, and these guys will skedaddle out of here.”
He waved to Vern, saying he had everything he needed, and the assistant/butler got back in the car and drove away.
“I’m glad you decided to stop by.” He stood before me, swaying slightly, as if he wanted to hug me but needed a sign.
“Like I had a choice.”
An alarming ringtone came from his pocket, and he hurriedly retrieved his phone. “I have to take this.”
He turned his back to me, the phone held to his ear. “Yes, Jamie, I know.” He kicked a rock from side to side between his boots. “These things take time, and I’m doing everything I can.” His shoulder slumped. “Of course.” He seemed to shrink down by an inch. “Hold off on the press release. She’s here now, and she doesn’t look happy. Gorgeous as always, but not happy. Blue dress that matches her eyes. Yes. I know, I know.” He said goodbye and put the phone away.
I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms, regretting that I hadn’t bought a jacket. The summer sun hadn’t gone down yet, but the wooded lake area was always cooler than town.
“Should I even ask who was on the phone?”
“Probably not,” he replied.
“You always keep me guessing, don’t you?”
Dalton slipped off his flannel jacket and swept it around my shoulders without asking. He gazed at my mouth, looking like he might kiss me, but he didn’t.
With a nod of his head, he turned and led me over to the barbecue set up near the round, silver Airstream trailer.
“We’re just having burgers tonight, but they’re excellent, and I got buns for you because… I want to show you I’m a thoughtful guy.”
I rubbed my cheek against the collar of the flannel jacket, pretending I had an itch, but really just taking in the smell of Dalton’s skin on the warm fabric.
Finally, I couldn’t take the curiosity anymore.