The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3) by Piper Sheldon (e book reader android txt) 📕

warm and sticky, such a far cry from the dry air of the mountains back in Denver. The sweet, earthy smell was intoxicating. These mountains didn’t have the grandeur of the Rockies, but there was something heady and mysterious about them. These were the mountains that held ghosts and secrets.

Also, mozzies. Mozzies everywhere. Only five minutes into my walk and already the little bloodsuckers were eating me alive. Walking may have been a poor decision and I was beginning to understand why there were no footpaths anywhere. I thought I left the worst of nature’s creatures behind in Australia. The worst I’d found in Denver were unironic hipsters.

The map made it look like the theater was just up the road, but the darker it grew and the more the mosquitoes tried to eat me, it felt like miles and hours had passed. Maybe I should have taken the shuttle with the others.

Breaks squeaked as a car slowed to idle alongside me. “Hey. You tryna get run over?” Gretchen LaRoe called out to me from her window.

I grinned. “In some countries, call me crazy, they have these things called footpaths so people can walk places.”

“Crazy.” She popped the locks. “Get in.”

Noting the passenger seat was already taken by a dark-haired woman, I climbed into the seat behind Gretchen and said, “I’m not supposed to get in the car with strangers.”

“Your mother tell you that?” she asked.

“She did. She also said redheads were trouble.”

“Your mother sounds wise,” the dark-haired woman said.

The typical jolt at the mention of my mum struck a chord but I had learned to hide the reaction over the years. I had also definitely learned not to bring her death up unless I wanted to face the awkward pitying faces. I forced a grin and extended my hand. “She was.”

The passenger was strikingly beautiful with emerald eyes and short jet-black hair. She turned around to shake my proffered hand. “I’m Suzie Samuels.”

“Sanders Olsson. Pleasure to meet you.”

“I like your accent,” she said.

“I like yours too.” My typical response.

Suzie turned to Gretchen. “Old friends?”

“Nah, we just met the other day when I drove him into town. He’s gonna be here for a bit for work. I thought he should get to know the locals.”

Suzie said, “Ah,” and gave her friend a look that could only be described as What exactly are you up to? Which was exactly the look I’d felt myself giving during my own brief interactions with the redhead. I was starting to understand that Gretchen LaRoe didn’t do anything without thinking four steps ahead.

After only another two minutes of driving, we slowed onto a turnoff I would have never thought was an actual road. Just a less dense area of forest. I probably would have made the walk but was not so secretly glad for the rescue.

“I don’t suppose I could hitch a lift back later?” I asked with no shame at all. “These roads are treacherous at night, I imagine.”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Gretchen said.

Her friend shot her another suspicious look.

“This movie isn’t some deviant thing is it? It’s starting to feel like the start to a bad slasher flick. Two way too beautiful women. Scary backroad in the middle of nowhere. I better check my phone for signal. The second I hear banjo music, I’m running for it.” I teased but, honestly, what had I gotten myself into?

The two women threw their heads back and laughed.

Not encouraging to say the least.

The pseudo-road opened up to a field filled with about fifty cars. On the farthest edge, backed up against the dense forest, was a large screen propped up on wooden stilts that were peeling paint. A few food trucks lined the perimeter and people near the front picnicked on blankets or out of the back of their cars. The families on blankets relieved me of any weird stress I’d been feeling.

“See, we’re here. No masked murderers,” Gretchen said.

“Not yet,” I mumbled.

“Why don’t we get out and walk around a little. Oh, Patty is here. I wanna see if they’re still doing open mic night.”

“I’m not getting out of this car.” I scratched at a new bump on my neck. “The mozzies are eating me alive out there.”

“Mozzies?” Suzie asked.

“Mosquitoes,” I explained. “I’m too sweet. I can’t help it.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes and Suzie raised an eyebrow. My usual charm fell a little flat on these two. Maybe I was off my game. I so desperately wanted to ask if they knew Roxy Kincaid but worried about showing my hand. I glanced around the field for the shuttle bus that carted over the Lodge guests. If she was running this event …

“Looking for someone?” Gretchen turned to face me, arm braced on the passenger seat.

“Nope. Just checking out the sights.”

“Make you a deal,” she said. “You go get us some snacks, then you can hide out in here the rest of the night.”

“That sounds fair.”

“And I’ll drive you home later.”

“Deal,” I said.

Suzie watched this exchange with narrowing eyes. “I’m gonna go find Ford. Whatever this is I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“No snacks?” I asked.

“I’m good, doll. You two go crazy.” She was out of the car but bent and gave Gretchen one last look. “Whatever is up your sleeve … be careful.”

“Go find your man and come back later for the show,” the redhead responded.

Suzie shook her head and was gone.

I asked, “Anything in particular you’d like, madame? My treat for the lift, of course.”

“Such a gent. I think the Lodge is handing out popcorn to the kiddies. That sounds good,” she said.

With the windows down, the smell of popcorn and fried food wafted through the air. I got out of the car and stretched, observing the area. The crowd hummed with excited chatter and laughter. Children ran around chasing each other, screaming with glee. Something about small-town living made all of this seem charming without being kitschy.

Gretchen got out of the car too. Today she was dressed