Free All In by JC Szot Page A

a pending spring. She hadn’t really been paying
attention to those fine details, not really having a set routine like she did
at home.
    The Hollow was long gone, slipping back into the
recesses of her mind. Ever since they’d left, she hadn’t looked back. Cara
traced the scar on her arm, a souvenir of their first hours on the road. The
skin was candy-heart pink, feeling thin and delicate.
    Pebble Beach was a small shore community with
simple, saltbox houses that lined the streets. Though the trees were still bare,
Cara could envision a lush canopy of foliage gracefully arching overhead,
keeping the sidewalk cool during the warm summer months.
    A center hub came into view, providing all the
basics, a small grocery store and gas station with a bank and post office. Two
motor inns sat on opposite ends.
    “Here is good,” Mick said, leaning over the front
seat.
    “Up to you,” the driver said, pulling alongside the
curb.
    Mick fumbled through his pocket and handed the
driver a few rumpled bills. They grabbed their packs and stepped out into the
afternoon sun.
    “Thanks.” Mick tapped the roof. The driver nodded,
pulling away.
    They stood, taking in their surroundings.
    “Okay,” Mick sighed. “Which place looks the best?” he
asked, chuckling.
    Cara noted that his demeanor had rebounded slightly,
his face free of worry lines. She looked at each end of the main thoroughfare,
assessing his question.
    It was either The Sandpiper or The Beachcomber. Both
motor inns were practically vacant. Cara noted that The Beachcomber had an ice
machine. She also noticed a sign above directing guests to the laundry room. It
was a no-brainer. She hated laundromats . It was an
ugly memory of home, lugging bags of clothing and constantly having to wait to
use the machines, not to mention how dirty they were.
    “The Beachcomber has laundry facilities,” Cara said,
slinging her pack over her shoulder. Mick had been quiet for most of the
morning, making her work hard to achieve any kind of verbal exchange. The issue
of their kiss still provoked a sense of unease. It hadn’t been discussed,
hanging over their heads like an ax about to fall.
    “So … how about The Beachcomber?”
She cleared her throat. “Are you all in?” Cara stifled her laughter, hoping her
attempt at humor would catch.
    Mick’s face contorted, displaying an air she didn’t
recognize. He shook his head, his gaze steady, his brows pulled together in
thought. “Aren’t you funny. Come on,” he muttered,
motioning her with a quick jerk of his head.
    Once given their keys and fresh towels, they made
their way to the side of the building, their accommodations adjacent to the
parking lot. Cara held a local newspaper grabbed from the ‘free’ pile near the office.
It would be another hunt for jobs. It looked like there might be some
opportunities due to rebuilding after the storm, but she wouldn’t know until
they did some research.
    The Beachcomber was an older establishment but it
was evident the owners had been diligent in their upkeep. They passed by
several rooms, the curtains closed. Mick stopped at room number eight, shoving
the key in the lock. His gruff words glued her feet to the sidewalk.
    “Lay it on its side … it means infinity.” His mouth
curled into a grin. His eyes flashed. Was this Mick’s tactic for seeking
revenge for her earlier banter?
    “The number eight?” Cara
said, phrasing her reply to the tone of a question. Her pulse jumped a notch. Why
was she suddenly nervous again? Why was this happening? Her face burned. Her
bashfulness was beginning to annoy her.
    Mick’s eyes glittered, holding every ray of the afternoon
sunlight, his behavior a bit peculiar.
    “That’s right … the number eight. Lay it on its side,
it means infinity,” he repeated as he turned the key in the lock.

 
    Chapter
Eighteen
     
    “I’d like to go to that small market,” Cara told
him, burying her wallet in her pants pocket.
    “I’ll take a walk with