Thirty-Three
The next day, she met Bash outside Gretel’s Cafe. Another man stood with him, wearing a well-tailored blazer that didn’t exactly scream “Lost Harbor.” Bash introduced him as Jeff Starling.
The man ushered them into his white Volvo and drove them along one of Toni’s very favorite roads in Lost Harbor. It ran along the high bluffs outside of town, then dropped down to the shore. Jeff kept up a running commentary as they drove, but Toni didn’t pay much attention. She was too focused on Bash’s presence in the backseat next to her, his strong thighs straining the fabric of his pants.
“I wanted to show you this place first because it’s my literal fantasy dream home that I would kill to own someday. That last part’s not literal,” he added. “But it’s too out of the way for me. It’s
