Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92899 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
As sheriff, I’m the guy people call for help.
But when my solo Hawaii trip gets hijacked by my clingy ex, suddenly I’m the one who needs saving.
My unlikely rescuer?
A gorgeous stranger who plants one breathtaking, reckless kiss on me in the middle of a crowded bar—sending my ex packing… and stealing my carefully guarded heart.
Tommy Marian kissed me like he knew me.
Like he wanted me.
Like I was his.
Like he was mine.
But he’s not.
He’s a straight, ambitious city doctor—here in paradise for his own damn wedding.
And I’m going home alone, as usual.
Six months later, I land a dream search and rescue gig in Legacy, Montana.
One summer. A break from my coupled-up friends. Zero distractions.
Except guess who’s freshly single… and bunking in my tiny cabin? The biggest distraction of my life.
Tommy Marian is still beautiful, still infuriating, and still everything I can’t want.
He says what happens in Legacy stays in Legacy.
I say I’m not even tempted.
At least one of us is lying.
Because when Tommy disappears on the mountain, I realize I’d burn the world to get him back…
And maybe this time, I won’t let him go
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
FOSTER
The emergency call came in just as I was locking up the sheriff’s office for a long-awaited vacation.
Three hours later, I was rappelling down a cliff face to extract a photographer who’d gotten a little too creative with his angle shots. Three hours after that, we’d gotten him to safety, but I’d missed my flight to Hawaii and spent five hours driving through a blizzard to catch the next one. And eight hours after that, I’d made my final connection by the skin of my teeth, but my luggage had not.
So by the time my seatmate sloshed her vodka cranberry all over my chest, it was safe to say I’d lost whatever patience I might have had at the start of my hellish, never-ending day.
Fate was seriously fucking with me.
“And the wors’ part is, I never saw it coming,” the woman slurred, still waving her cup as she spoke, seemingly unaware it was now empty. “But then, I guess no one ever does. I thought he was The One. I thought he and I were the real thing. Like… like daisies in sunshine. Like kit… kin… kinsmin.”
“Kismet,” a low, aggrieved voice muttered from the row behind us. “You mean kismet.”
I covered my snort with a cough. The guy in 9A had started correcting Miss Daisies and Sunshine’s drunken mispronunciations under his breath, but the longer her drama went on, the less he seemed to hold back his commentary.
At this point, his comments were the only thing keeping me sane.
“Did you say something?” she asked, squinting at me.
I thumbed over my shoulder. “I think he said ‘Kleenex.’ Speaking of which, do you have any tissues in your bag?” I gestured from the bulging carryall at her feet to the remains of her vodka cranberry trickling down my chest. “I could use one.”
“Don’t think so.” She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, gosh, you spilled your drink!”
I sucked in a breath. “I didn’t—” A travel pack of tissues suddenly appeared between us with a little waggle, and I glanced through the darkened gap between the seats to see a deep hazel eye smiling back at me.
Mr. 9A to the rescue.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it.”
While I dabbed at my ruined shirt, Miss Daisies and Sunshine kept talking, ensuring everyone around us knew way more than we’d ever wanted or needed to know about the “cheating ass” who “din’ deserve my love.”
“And the wors’ part is,” she wailed, “I never saw it com—”
I jumped in to prevent her from starting again at the beginning. “Look, I know it doesn’t feel like it now, but you’ll move on from this. I dated a cheating ass once, too.”
“Yeah?”
“Matthew-don’t-call-me-Matt.” I rolled my eyes. “High-maintenance, persistent, terrible at karaoke, regrettably bad at monogamy. It sucked at the time, but I learned a lot of lessons about what I want in a partner. And the man had good taste in resorts,” I added. “Hence my trip to Kauai.”
She scrunched up her face. “Yer ex is gunna be here, too?”
“Oh, god no. The opposite. I ditched my ex, but I still love Hawaii, and the only time it’s safe for me to visit is over New Year’s. Matthew hasn’t missed a ball drop in decades.”
“Is that like…” Daisy Sunshine lowered her voice, but not by much. “…a gay thing?”
Mr. 9A snickered.
I pressed my lips together to keep from barking out a laugh. “Uh. No. It’s…” I pondered this. “Well, come to think of it, there are a few gay men involved in that particular event.”
This time, 9A snort-choked so loudly the woman beside him asked if he was okay.
Mercifully, the plane touched down at that exact moment.
“Know whut? I’m gunna take yer advice,” Daisy announced as the people at the front of the plane began grabbing their things. “I’m gunna get a new man. I’m gunna find real love. Like poetry. Like Shakesgere.” She frowned. “Shakes… Gere?”
“Shakespeare,” came from behind us. “For god’s sake.”
“Brother to Richard. Obvs,” I added, turning to grin between the seats at the man who’d saved my mood if not my shirt.
He was clean-cut, with neatly trimmed light-brown hair, bright hazel eyes, and a knowing grin that made my stomach do something interesting.
I also noticed the equally attractive woman next to him, scrolling through her phone, and realized they were probably together.
Figured.
All the best ones were taken these days. All of my friends back in Wyoming had recently paired up, too, leaving me the sole, glaringly single target of my mother’s matchmaking ways.
Hence, my hookup vacation in Hawaii. No mother. No snow. No work. Only me, the sun, umbrella drinks, and a plentiful Grindr app for the next ten days. Ringing in the New Year right.
Daisy turned around and beamed at 9A. “You know him? The poet?”
He bit his lip and nodded, eyes dancing as he glanced at me, inviting me to share the joke. “I know him well. Spent way too much time with him in high school, actually. Wordy fucker.”