Page 4 of Heat Advisory

“You don’t want to murder me,” Iris said. “In fact, you’ll probably be thanking me later, so I will go ahead and just tell you you’re welcome right now. However, if he hurts you or treats you bad, then I will personally help you bury the body.”

I rolled my eyes at her just as my phone buzzed with an incoming text. I looked down to see a new message from a new number.

Unknown number:

This is Jay. I’m looking forward to our date next week. ;)

Date?

Jay—the sexiest man I had ever met, and the one I’d had the biggest crush on since I was a teenager—just wrote that he was looking forward to a date…with me.

Oh, God.

Expect the unexpected.

That was what I was learning from Jay Rainer. And I didn’t like it one bit.

2

“The moment you sit down, someone will ask you for something. That likelihood increases exponentially if there is a child anywhere nearby.”

—It’s science

Cora

Twelve Years Ago

I was staying over at my best friend Morgan’s house for what was likely our 490th sleepover. I practically lived there when I wasn’t in my own home, and I loved being there. Her mom and dad were like second parents to me—the good kind that I wish my own biological parents had been.

I was born Cora Marie Carson to a seemingly loving couple just outside San Diego. A few years later, my sister Hazel was born, and we were the perfect little family—until we weren’t. Our father, Craig Carson, was a good dad, but he liked to gamble. He was always into get-rich-quick schemes, and after a while, our mom finally gave up on him. She left, and she did so without taking Hazel and me with her.

Dad tried to take care of us. He loved us in his own way, and he tried to be a caring dad, but it was a struggle. He either couldn’t or didn’t want to hold down a steady job, so he went back to gambling. Unfortunately, he gambled with the wrong people and lost and then got himself nearly killed and put in prison.

Hazel and I were put into foster care, but since the police were concerned my dad’s enemies might come after us for collateral, we were moved to the northern part of the state and put into the custody of Winnie and Tia O’Hara. Winnie and Tia were sisters who had also grown up in the foster system, constantly bumping around because no one wanted two older sisters.

They had dedicated their adult lives to opening their doors to as many foster girls as they could, determined to give them stability instead of endless moves. Some girls hadn’t stayed long, usually because a parent or relative eventually stepped in to care for them. But for the ones whose families either couldn’t—or simply wouldn’t—take them back, the O’Haras made sure we always had a place to belong. Hazel and I were two of those lucky ones.

Winnie—who we just called Mom—and Tia—which was Spanish for aunt, so we’d always called her Auntie—lived on a small property in Stratus Cove, a coastal town in Northern California. The place was beautiful—lush green landscape, salty ocean air, and friendly people who waved at you on the street. Being a small town, everybody knew everybody’s business, but that also meant they knew what the O’Hara women did. Nobody batted an eyelash when another foster kid appeared at their house. It was just accepted.

I had lucked out, not only with the O’Haras, but also with Morgan’s family as well, which was why I enjoyed coming over here so often.

Morgan was sprawled across her bed, flipping through her CDs while we talked about our school dance like it was some kind of natural disaster that we desperately wanted to be a part of.

The homecoming dance. The words alone made my stomach tighten.

I really wanted Morgan’s brother to ask me, but I knew that would never happen. He was a senior, and I was a junior, and while we’d gotten close the last few months as I tutored him, I knew he only saw me as his little sister’s best friend and nothing more.

“My only option is Garrison, and I think that’s only because Becky told him I was a slut,” Morgan said. “I thought about going with him, getting pictures, dancing, and then telling him I wasn’t feeling good and having my loser brother just pick me up, but that’s too complicated.”

“Well, we can go together, then,” I told her.

“Wait…I thought you said that guy from the debate team asked you…What was his name?”

“Chadwick,” I replied. “And no. I don’t even know him.

“He’s kind of a nerd, though,” Morgan said.

“Yeah, well, so am I.” I shrugged because it was the truth.