A flash of sunlight reflecting off plastic caught his eye as he rode past. Instinct made him slow, curiosity made him turn around.
Five bottles sat perfectly aligned in the shade.
Logan removed his helmet slowly, scanning the empty road. No parked cars. No houses nearby except a distant white cottage partly hidden behind cottonwood trees.
“This feels like a test,” he muttered.
He picked up one bottle. It was ice cold — not cool from overnight air, but freshly chilled. Water droplets slid down his wrist.
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