Batteries Not Required Read Online Free

dresser along one wall, holding up a TV that still had a channel dial. The bathroom was roughly the size of a phone booth, but it was clean, and that was all that mattered. I wouldn’t be in Parable long. Sit in on the negotiations, sign the papers, and I’d be out of there.
    I splashed my face with cold water and held my hair up off my neck for a few seconds, wishing for a rubber band.
    Going to the window, I pulled the cord and the drapes swished open to reveal the lake, sparkling with June sunlight. There was a long dock, and I could see the four little kids from the office jumping into the shallow end, with shouts of glee, while their mother watched attentively.
    I felt a twinge of yearning. The Bronco backed up to the lake, too, and Mom and I used to skinny-dip back there on Sunday nights, when the tavern was closed and the faithful were all at evening services.
    I was tempted to call her, just to let her know I’d arrived, but I decided against it. There would be a charge for using the phone in the room, and my budget was severely limited; better to wait until my stuff arrived and I could use my cell. I had unlimited minutes, after all, and besides, she probably wouldn’t hear the ring over the roar of the Harley engine. My mother, the biker chick.
    The lake was really calling to me by then. I would have loved to wander down to the dock, kick off my sandals, and dangle my feet in that blue, blue water, but I couldn’t bring myself to intrude on the swimming party. Anyway, I figured being at the fringe of that happy little family would have made me feel lonelier, instead of lifting my spirits.
    I was sitting on the end of my double bed, leafing through an outdated issue of Field & Stream, when the telephone jangled and nearly scared me out of my skin.
    â€œHello?” I said uncertainly.
    â€œJust thought I’d let you know your car is here,” Nancy told me. “It’s parked in the lot, and I have the keys here in the office.”
    I thanked her and rushed to reclaim my suitcase and purse.
    When I got back to the room, I took a shower, scrubbing the pitch off my backside, and put on clean jeans and a tank top. My cell phone, nestled in the bottom of my bag, was on its last legs, making an irritating bleep-bleep sound.
    I turned it off, plugged it in for a charge, and peered out the window again. The minivan family was still in the water. The dad had joined them by then, but the mom still sat on the dock, smiling and shading her eyes with one hand.
    I grabbed my purse, locked up the room, and stopped by the office to return Nancy’s shorts. I suppose I should have washed them first, but that seemed a little over the top, considering I’d worn them for half an hour at the outside.
    Leaving the rental car in the lot, I set out on foot for the Bucking Bronco. I was hoping for a peek inside, though I don’t know what I expected to see.
    Passing cars slowed, so the driver and passengers could gawk, as I walked toward the tavern. Strangers always get noticed in towns like Parable—if I could be considered a stranger. Most likely, people remembered me as the poor girl who thought someone like Tristan McCullough could really be interested in her.
    I waved cheerfully and picked up my pace.
    Reaching the Bronco, I noted, without surprise, that the front doors were padlocked. I tried looking through the cracks between the boards covering the windows, but to no avail. I went around back, hoping for better luck.
    Here, there were no boards and no padlocks. I turned to scan the sparkling lake for watching boaters, but there were none to be seen, so I tried the door.
    It creaked open, and I stopped on the threshold. I thought I heard music, soft and distant. The jukebox? Impossible. The Bronco had been closed for several years, according to Mom, and the electricity must have been shut off long ago.
    Still, my breath quickened. I stood still, listening. Yes, there was music. And the