A car raced past and sprayed her with water. She yelped and whirled around, but the driver didn’t even slow. Cursing, she glanced up and down the highway. This end of the island was fairly desolate—mostly campgrounds and nature parks. She’d passed a marina, but that was a ways back.

When she’d planned her trip down here, she had wanted seclusion. After weeks of scouring listings, she’d been ecstatic when a long-term rental popped up on the island’s north end, just footsteps from the beach. The idea of being away from town, surrounded by sand and waves and the soundtrack of nature, had been immensely appealing. But now she wasn’t sure. Maybe she should have followed Josh’s advice and rented an apartment in town for the summer.

Macey shivered and rubbed her bare arms, chilled from the rain despite the warm temperature. Her tank top and jeans were already soaked through, and she was out here alone and stranded.

I can handle it.

Ha. Famous last words.

She went back around and reached inside once again, this time to pop the trunk. It was a new-to-her car, and she didn’t know the spare tire situation, but surely there was something in the back. Macey had helped a boyfriend change a tire in college once. Well, maybe not helped, but she’d watched, and it had seemed pretty straightforward.

She tromped back to the trunk and slid aside the tripod and the suitcase filled with camera equipment. After finding the corner tab, she peeled back the layer of carpet.

Score! A spare tire, along with a heavy metal tool—a lug wrench?—and what had to be a jack.

But the spare seemed . . . off. She frowned down at the anemic-looking tire. Pressing her fingers against it, she confirmed her suspicion.

The spare was flat, too.

“Crap,” she said again.

Macey checked her phone. Still nothing from Josh. She hated asking a man to rescue her, but it was freaking pouring, and she was out of options.

Another lightning strike, followed by a clap of thunder. Then a jagged white bolt zapped down from above.

She looked up at the sky, awestruck. The ferocious beauty of it reminded her of why she’d been attracted to Lost Beach in the first place. She’d been lured by the film project, of course, which would pay her bills while she got her life sorted. But beyond that, she’d been attracted by the dramatic juxtaposition of nature and people. She’d been lured by the rugged Texas coast and one of the last long stretches of untamed beach and twenty-foot dunes.

Rainwater trickled down the front of her shirt, reminding her of her plight. She stared down at the useless tire.