Drama Started

As she turned, Trisha spotted an older model pickup truck ascending the hill. With the rain falling and dusk settling in, she vigorously waved her arms, hoping to catch the driver's attention. The beat-up truck gradually slowed its pace, eventually coming to a stop. Rolling down the window, the driver peered out.

Instead of a grandmotherly woman, Trisha was surprised to see the familiar face. It was the man who had saved her at the ferry before. She attempted to swallow, but her throat felt tight.

Using a finger, Dashiell pushed back his sweat-soaked baseball hat, his other arm resting on the steering wheel. "Need a ride, ma'am?"

Swallowing her pride, Trisha brushed the wet hair away from her eyes, resisting the urge to scold him. "I, um... ran out of gas."

He grinned, his teeth standing out white against his dirt-streaked face. "That's not what I asked." 

Glancing toward her car, her mind raced. "Actually, could you help me get some gas—"

He let out a gentle chuckle, his eyes sparkling.

She straightened her posture. How dare he laugh at her!

"Listen, ma'am." His flawless smile faded into a thin line, his voice laced with impatience. "I get your concerns about getting into a car with a stranger. Can't blame you for that. But if I go down to get gas and come back while you're out here alone, it'll be dark. Then you'll have more reason to be afraid."

She covered her mouth with her hand, contemplating his words. It made sense, but could she really trust him?

A faint smirk appeared on his lips. "Black bears, cougars, and coyotes can be pretty troublesome around here. You really don't want to be stuck out here after dark. Especially all alone."

Black bears? Courgars? Coyotes?

Trisha quickly tugged at the door handle and pulled herself onto the dirty seat. Taking a breath, she wrinkled her nose, detecting an odd smell. Was it the scent of sweat?

She turned to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on her, his face hinting at suppressed laughter.

He didn't have to find it so amusing. She nervously adjusted the seat belt, holding it with one hand to prevent it from running across her nose.

Dashiell glanced at her, observing her awkwardness, and then spoke, "I get it. Earlier wasn't the best introduction."

With a slight flush coloring her cheeks, she retorted curtly while suppressing her embarrassment, "I'd rather not dwell on that, thanks."

He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Fair enough. Let's leave it in the past, shall we?"

Trisha remained silent, expressing her annoyance with a disdainful snort.

"I guess luck isn't on my side."

"Why do you think that?" Dashiell regarded her with a look suggesting she might be mentally unbalanced before shifting the truck into gear.

"It's been a tough day. Feels like bad luck is following me around," she explained.

He arched an eyebrow. "Seems like fate must favor you, or I wouldn't have taken this route. Not many folks use this road these days."

Trisha drew in a sharp breath. Could it be true? She shook her wet head, causing water droplets to scatter onto the worn seat. No one could truly love her.

As the rain continued with its steady downpour, drumming loudly against the truck's roof, the conversation fell silent. However, the truck's engine hum persisted, unaffected by the storm's noise.

What might have happened if he hadn't come along? The only bears, coyotes, or cougars she'd ever encountered were in science videos at school. A sudden shudder traveled down her spine, unexpectedly followed by a shiver that made her teeth chatter.

Dashiell turned towards her, his dark eyes fixed on her drenched jacket. "You must be cold."

"Great detective work," she quipped sarcastically. "Was that the dripping clothes or the blue lips that gave it away?"

He chuckled heartily, the sound somehow lifting her spirits. "Seems like you're a bit touchy," he remarked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Lowering her head, partly out of embarrassment and partly to hide the unexpected smile forming on her face, she murmured, "Sorry."

Trisha jumped slightly when he reached out, but eased as he pulled a dark blue suede leather jacket from behind the seat. "Here. This should help keep you warm."

"Thanks." She held the coat with two fingers, inspecting it for any signs of pests, but none that she could see. "Looks, um... warm and cozy," she remarked, snuggling into its comfort and catching a whiff of men's cologne.

Damon Cooper.

She shut her eyes, the unwelcome memories and emotions surging within her.

The feelings caught her off guard, creeping into her thoughts at unexpected moments. Had she not been good enough for him? Was that why he betrayed her? Her mind drifted back to their last argument. Damon had been keen to outline the traits of his ideal woman he preferred to be with.

"By the way, I'm Dashiell," the stranger's smooth baritone voice interrupted her thoughts.

She blinked, finding his hand extended towards her. "Trisha," she replied, clasping his hand. It wasn't as calloused as she'd expected from a rural islander, almost soft and well-tended.

"You shouldn't really be on these back roads with an empty tank, you know," he said, his expression stern yet gentle.

She resisted the urge to make a sarcastic response, forcing a forced smile instead.

"Your husband couldn't come?"

The irony of his question made her grimace. She shook her head and shifted her attention to the passing scenery, noting fields adorned with wildflowers. How many more miles?

Leaning forward, he locked eyes with her. "Ever been to Azure Bay Island?"

Shaking her head, she replied, "No, it's my first visit."

"It's a beautiful spot," he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice. "Do you have family here?"

"No family," she responded briefly.

His brows lifted in surprise. "Really? May I know your purpose here?" 

She wiped her fingers on her damp pants, debating if it was smart to share that detail.

"Never mind," Dashiell interrupted, displaying black beneath his nails. "I know city folks have to be cautious about that kind of thing."

Why did he seem to understand her thoughts? "City folks? It's not like a disease or something, you know." She hugged her arms, continuing, "And how do you even know I'm from the city?"

"'Cause folks around here don't dress so fancy," he explained, his dark eyes shining mischievously as he glanced at her expensive suit and high heels.

"Right. They wear dirty clothes and drive old trucks."

His laughter filled the cabin. "I deserved that one."

Leaning on the door, Trisha rested her hot face on her fist, yearning for a punching bag.

"Which city?"

She gazed at the worn-out truck ceiling and took a deep breath. "Florida." If they didn't reach Azure Bay Resort promptly, she felt like she might lose her patience.

"Should have figured that out," Dashiell's face twisted. "How do you manage to live in a city with all that noise and traffic?"

"I guess the same way you handle stinky old cows and no real civilization," Trisha replied, her voice tinged with frustration. She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth.

She began to apologize, but Dashiell spoke before she could utter a word. "Are you here on vacation or business?"

Where did he get that impression from? "I'm here on a work assignment."

"What kind of work assignment?"

"It's just a project for work," she replied vaguely, opting not to delve into the specifics.

"Seriously?" His eyebrows arched, and he chuckled.

Irritation seeped through her frazzled nerves like water seeping through a cracked dam. She turned her head to glare at him. "Is it that hard to believe?"

A smirk played on his lips. "I suppose not. It's just that those who come here for work usually don't dress as sharply as you. They're more accustomed to getting dirty."

The dam finally broke. "Now, I'm surprised. Didn't think a small place like Azure Bay island had much going on," she said, then quickly covered her mouth. She wondered what was up with her that day.

Ignoring her cynical remarks, he asked, "So, where are you headed exactly?" 

"To the Azure Bay Resort."

"Azure Bay Resort?" Dashiell furrowed his brow. "That place is kind of deserted, isn't it?"

"It's where I've been assigned," she replied irritably, slightly annoyed by his observation.

His expression shifted, recognizing the possibility that the woman might be Trisha Lockhart, yet he needed confirmation.

"Which company do you work for?" he probed, seeking more information about her employer.

"Vanthorn Ventures Holdings." She brushed a hand through her damp hair and cleared her throat, deciding it was time to switch topics and put him on the spot for a bit. "How about you? Have you been living around here for long?"

Dashiell was taken aback as he realized that the woman was indeed Trisha Lockhart, contrary to the image of her that he had in mind, a spinster—an older, rigid woman with loads of experience.

As his suspicion confirmed, he decided to play along and keep his true identity a secret. He maintained a composed expression, concealing any signs of recognition, and continued with their conversation.

"I've been around these parts for a while," he responded casually, avoiding specifics about his purpose on the island.

"No wonder at all," she muttered under her breath, stealing a glance at his filthy jeans and worn-out shirt. She assumed it had been quite some time since he last had a bath. Instant guilt washed over her. Relax, Trish. He did give you a ride, after all.

"Sorry about my look. We had to fix some issues in town today," he explained kindly. 

He had been dealing with an infrastructure problem in the town before heading to the Azure Bay Resort. There was a roadblock due to a collapsed road and he had to work on resolving a damaged water supply system that affected the town's access to clean water.

Trisha felt a flush of warmth rise to her cheeks. She quickly looked away, realizing she hadn't intended for him to hear that last part.

"I happen to be running things over at the Azure Bay Resort," he mentioned casually.

Her surprise was evident as her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really? So, you're in charge around here? What happened to Jeremy Mitchell, the former person in charge?"

"He's the second in command. I'm taking over the responsibility now," he replied calmly, offering a brief explanation about the change in leadership.

"Ah, I see," she responded, nodding in understanding. "From what I heard, there seems to have been quite a turnover in leadership around here."

"Yeah, things have been rather unpredictable recently," he responded with a subtle touch of irony. His expression remained as frigid as an Arctic breeze, revealing no warmth or emotion.