That Second Chance (Getting Lucky #1)(14)

“I do feel really lucky.” Especially after what happened the last time I was in a car accident. “But the picture might be fun to look at sometime. I could stop by the station and thank you all properly for your help this week.” I try to put a light spin on the whole day. Honestly, if I think about it too much, I’ll start to have a panic attack, and that’s the last thing I need right now—especially in front of Griffin.

He rocks on his heels. “The guys would like that.” He nods toward the porch behind him. “Brought your luggage over. Your car has been towed to Brig’s, and if you need anything, I’m three doors down and across the street in that gray house with the shake shingles.” He leans over and points.

I follow his finger and spot a modest Cape Cod–style house with beautiful flower boxes, an American flag at a forty-five-degree angle, and a giant pine tree in the front, providing a blanket of shade beneath it.

“Wow, that’s a coincidence.”

“Yeah.” He eyes me. “Shouldn’t you have someone staying with you tonight since you have a concussion?”

I wave him off. “I didn’t get a concussion.”

“And yet the doctors thought you did.”

“I think they were trying to make things sound worse than they are. You know doctors, am I right?” I nudge him, and he doesn’t move.

Don’t touch him, Ren.

“Anyhoo, thanks for the ride up the hill and the luggage . . . how did you know I was living here?”

Bashfully he smiles. “News travels fast.”

I’m starting to learn that rather quickly. Which reminds me. I lean forward and look around to make sure there are no prying eyes or ears. “Is it normal for stories to be exaggerated in this town?”

He tilts his head back and laughs, the sound rich in my ears. “Yeah, the gossip train is a long one, so be careful what you say to anyone.” He pats me on the shoulder as he starts to walk by. “Welcome to Port Snow, Ren. Let me know if you need anything.”

With that, he takes off down the street, hands in his pockets, head tilted down. I take a few seconds to observe him, his long gait, the way his jeans fit snugly to his high, tight ass, and the broad shoulders that stretch his shirt wide, only to narrow down at his waist.

I might have entered Port Snow with a bang, but at least I was rescued by a man I don’t mind living a few houses down from.



Just as I suspected, there aren’t many kitchen supplies in the house, not even a coffee maker, just some furniture and a sleeping bag that will serve as bedding tonight. Not wanting to go out with a bruised forehead, I order a pizza, which is enthusiastically delivered by Bart . . . the other Uber driver. Looks like he does Uber Eats, too, which definitely gives him a leg up on his competition. Seems to me like Bart might have a better grasp on his business than Wallace does. I give him five stars because I can’t be partial.

After a long, hot shower, keeping the water away from my forehead, I dress in my comfy pj’s and plop myself on the couch with my computer and the pizza box, settling in for a Netflix binge. Thank God the Wi-Fi is already available.

And just when I’m about to cue my show, my phone buzzes next to me.

My mother.

I know I have to answer it, or else I’m going to have a situation on my hands, on top of a damaged car and a cracked-open forehead.

“Hey, Mom,” I answer.

“Ren Juniper Winters. Why on earth haven’t you been answering my phone calls?”

Because I was in the emergency room getting stitched up.

Because my car was lodged between two trees.

Because I was ogling my new neighbor and reminiscing about how he’d effortlessly carried me up a grassy embankment.

But I don’t tell her that. I don’t want to give her a heart attack.

“Sorry, Mom, I’ve been really busy getting settled and meeting some locals.” Not a lie. I met some locals for sure. The EMT ladies, doctors, firefighters . . . you know, the basics.

“Well, you could have at least texted me. I was worried sick over here.” My mom, worried? Nooooo.

“Sorry about that. I’m just sitting down eating some pizza now.”

“Oh, is it good? I bet it’s better than what we have out here. I heard New England has amazing pizza.”

“It’s pretty good. I’m impressed. Glad it’s a place I can rely on when I’m too tired to cook anything.”

“That’s wonderful, honey. How’s the house? An absolute dream like the pictures online?”

“And so much more. I can smell the ocean from the living room window, and I can hear the waves crash into the shore. The entire house is quaint. The walls are covered in white shiplap, and the floors are to die for. Seriously, I don’t know how I was able to score this place for so cheap. Seems like a miracle.”

My mom chuckles. “You’re just so used to Los Angeles prices that this is a shock to you.”

“It really is.” I pause and take in the charming little house, feeling more content than I’ve been in a long time. “I’m really happy I made this move, Mom.” Despite the suicidal moose that will not be spoken of.

My mom sighs on the other end of the phone. “Even though I wish you were still a stone’s throw away from us, I’m glad that you’re happy. It’s all I want for you.” She pauses for a second. “Now, don’t go falling in love out there, you hear me? I couldn’t bear if you had children so far away from me.”