A Killer Retreat by Tracy Weber Page B

an avid biker’s lean body, Sam was the six-foot-tall Ken to Rene’s brunette-haired Barbie.
    Bella couldn’t fault his personality, either. Somehow Sam had managed not to inherit the pretty boy jerk gene. He was sweet, kind, and—most importantly—he adored Rene to a fault. Add Sam’s brilliantly successful software company to all of that personal yumminess and he was—as Rene told anyone who’d listen—the perfect husband.
    The disgusting, fuzzy, caterpillar-like growth marring his upper lip was his only glaring flaw. Someday I’d sneak up behind him and shave it off—if I could ever manage to get close enough to touch it without getting sick to my stomach.
    Rene waved her hand dismissively. “Ignore her, Sam, and consider yourself lucky. At least Bella doesn’t bark at you.” She flopped on the sofa bed. A Pigpen-like cloud of dirt, dog dander, and dust mites swirled around her. She sneezed uncontrollably into her hand and looked around the room. “This place is tiny . Where’s Sam’s and my bedroom?”
    â€œYou’re sitting on it,” Michael replied.
    Rene’s eyes widened. “You have got to be kidding me.” She sneezed again. “This will never do.” She stood up and brushed the newly acquired layer of dander and dog fur off of her pants. “Tell you what, let’s go have lunch. Sam and I drove past a Chinese place in Eastsound that looked pretty good. A slice of chocolate truffle pie from the pie shop around the corner doesn’t sound half bad, either.
    â€œWhen we get back, we’ll stop at the office and see about getting Sam and me our own place.” She scratched Bella’s ears. “Maybe Sam will even splurge for a larger cabin for all five of us.”
    _____
    The rest of the day went by in a heartbeat. We started at the Chinese restaurant. Michael, Sam, and I stuffed ourselves full of stir fry, while Rene made small piles of fried rice and pushed them around on her plate. After that, we spent the afternoon wandering around Eastsound. Sam and Michael weren’t exactly enthusiastic about our choice of girlie activities, but Rene and I enjoyed browsing through the town’s many quaint stores.
    My budget allowed primarily for window shopping, so Rene spent enough money for us both. She wasn’t in the mood to try on clothes—a first for her—but she indulged in a multitude of books, trinkets, and designer chocolates. She even managed to nibble on that coveted slice of pie.
    I tried to make good on my promise to buy Bella a new crate, but the local pet boutique didn’t carry any large enough for my horse-sized German shepherd. Bella would have to make do with the space Michael had created behind the bed.
    Now, five minutes before our six o’clock dinner reservation, we all meandered along the path to Eden, the center’s on-site restaurant. Well, three of us meandered. Rene stomped. She pouted and griped and whined and lamented, acting like a starving three-year-old who’d been denied a pink frosted sugar cookie.
    â€œSold out? How can the entire property be sold out?”
    â€œIt isn’t, Rene,” I replied for the thousandth time. “Sam said there were plenty of campsites available.” I nudged her ribs with my elbow. “You might have even been able to score a yurt!”
    She grumbled an unrepeatable reply and accelerated. I hurried to keep pace beside her. “I told you, this week is special. It’s the grand opening of the new construction, and the site managers are getting married. I’m sure they have a ton of out-of-town guests.” I shrugged. “You’ll have to live with the sofa bed.”
    Rene pouted her way up the staircase. “Did you see the dust that came out of that couch? I’ve already taken a double dose of Benadryl, and my eyes are still swollen like grapefruits!
    â€œRene, honey,” Sam said from