The slamming of my car door sounded incredibly loud in the peaceful quiet of the forest.
We'd driven southwest out of town a little ways and parked at a trailhead, somewhere that had across-the-board one-star reviews online for being poorly maintained, isolated, fraught with sliding rocks and crumbling cliffs, and inconvenient.
Perfect for us, in other words.
Colin leaned his arms on the roof of the Cadillac and looked across at me. "Are you sure about this, Newt?"
The late-afternoon sunlight struck little glints of gold and peachy-pink in his sandy hair, which had tufts poking up in all directions; he had a massive case of hat-head, having just removed his cap and tossed it in the car.
He definitely did not look like the type of dangerous, sinister predator that would cause my body chemistry to go haywire and start frantically combing through its genome looking for creative means of escape. Honestly, I was trying to hide a grin.
