Page 172 of His Hungry Wolf

“Sure, why not,” Quin said with a smile.

“Excellent. The place is run by Sonya. She likes it when you call her Dr. Sonya probably because Tom hates it. “She’s not a medical doctor,” he says. I keep telling him, you don’t have to be a medical doctor to be called a doctor. But he’s just a grump,” Glen said with a smile.

Slipping on our jackets, we returned to the truck feeling really good about the town. Glen made a great first impression.

The bed and breakfast was a half-mile away. It was easy to imagine the walk into town being a relaxing experience. It was now dark, but even in shadows, the place looked like a postcard.

The bed and breakfast had to be the highlight. It was a converted farmhouse and looked expensive. There was a large veranda surrounding the mocha, shingled, exterior, and a short flight of stairs that led up to it.

Standing outside the main door was a petite woman in her early 60s who wasn’t wearing a jacket. She had to be freezing as she hugged herself for warmth.

“Welcome!” The woman said with an engaging smile.

“Hello,” I said waiting for Quin and putting my arm around him as we approached. If people were going to mistake us for a couple and Quin was going to play along, I was going to make the most of it.

“Glen told me you would be heading over. Come in, come in. It’s cold out here.”

Stepping inside, the interior didn’t disappoint. It was quaint but clean and very well put together. The floors throughout and the walls of the entrance were dark honey wood. The living room furniture was beige with floral print and comfortable looking. And the small tables that lined the room were dark wood and elegant.

“We can’t afford to stay here,” I whispered to Quin before remembering that he summered on a private island. “I mean, I can’t afford to stay here.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Quin said sincerely. “Affording places like this is the upside to my crazy life. Let me share it with you,” he said with a smile.

I felt uneasy watching him pay for our room without me being able to help. But I knew the only alternatives would be driving the two hours back or sleeping in my truck. I wasn’t about to make Quin suffer to satisfy my pride.

“Okay,” I told him knowing the only issues were in my head.

“Glen said you’re in town to see the falls,” the energetic woman said in a faint Jamaican accent.

“Quin?” I said not sure what he was going to say.

“We’re actually in town looking for somebody. Glen said you might have seen him.”

“You’re looking for someone? What does he look like?” She said focusing a suddenly intense gaze on Quin.

Quin described my father again.

“I haven’t seen anyone who looks like that. Why are you looking for him?”

I looked at Quin unsure what he wanted to say.

“He’s Cage’s father. He’s missing and we think he passed through here.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Just a hunch,” Quin replied.

The woman’s green eyes narrowed on Quin. “Do you get hunches often?”

I turned to Quin wondering how he would respond to the unusual question.

“Not more than anyone else,” Quin said brushing the question aside.

The woman relaxed. “Me neither. But, you know who might be able to help you, Titus? He gives tours of the falls. I could have him give you a tour in the morning if you want.”

“Titus?” Quin asked.

“He’s someone about your age. He’s a great guy. You’ll love him. I’ll let him know.”