Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“Goodnight, gorgeous,” I murmur. “Get some rest, okay? Our babies need it.”
“Aye-aye, Captain,” she teases, even giving me a mock salute, but her eyelids flutter shut before any of us even reach the door.
We pull it mostly closed, leaving just a crack so we can hear her if she needs anything.
Downstairs, Chance cracks open a beer and hands us one each. We all sit in the living room with the glow of the fireplace bouncing off the first real snowstorm of the season. The wind picks up, whistling through the eaves.
November in the Montana mountains. I take a long pull from my bottle, bracing myself for what I have to say now that it’s just us.
“We’ve got a problem, boys.”
Boone’s gaze sharpens on mine.
“Tessa showed up today,” I say.
Chance straightens immediately, groaning as he rubs a palm over his face. “Here?”
“Tried to walk right into the damn house like she owned the place.”
Boone’s jaw tightens. “What did she want?”
“The same thing she always wants,” I murmur. “Anything she thinks she can get her hands on. But she’s also heard that you’re doing well. Naturally, that means she suddenly remembers you exist and now she wants you. Or your money.”
Boone’s hand curls around his bottle before he sets it down so slowly it’s like he’s afraid it’ll shatter if he isn’t careful. “Fuck. That woman…” He shakes his head. “I’ll handle it.”
Chance mutters, “Did she go near Roxie?”
“Unfortunately,” I say. “She came downstairs before I could get rid of Tessa, and obviously Tessa tried to be cute, but Roxie handled it fine. She was a little shaken, but she’s okay now.”
“That’s all that matters,” Boone says quietly.
I watch the snow hammer the windows, thick flakes piling up fast on the porch rail. “We can’t let her get anywhere near our girl again, but now that she’s shown her face, she’s not gonna disappear without trying something.”
Boone scrubs a hand over his jaw, then looks at both of us, his eyes clearer now. “I’m done letting her take anything from me. I was done years ago, and she sure as hell doesn’t get to touch what we’re building with Roxie.”
Chance lifts his bottle. “Then it’s settled. But you need to do it fast, brother. Dillon’s right. Tessa is for sure going to try something, and she knows us. She knows we’ll close ranks to keep her out, which means she’ll move fast.”
Boone straightens to his full height and downs the rest of his beer. “Don’t worry, okay? I know what she put me through before, but I won’t fall for it again.”
26
ROXIE
While the guys are out running errands, I curl up on the big leather couch in the living room, a blanket over my legs, and a mug of peppermint tea warming my hands. Madison’s face fills my phone screen.
She grins up at me. “Well, you look better than you did the last time we spoke,” she says. “I’m assuming things went well when you told them and that you’re happy now?”
“I am,” I admit, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Things have been amazing, actually. Better than I ever expected. I’ve been spoiled more since then than in my entire life.”
She laughs. “Domestic goddess energy. I love it.”
I laugh, but my retort dies on my tongue as something flickers past the front window. Movement. A shape. I lean forward, squinting.
The wind pushes the snowfall sideways, and through it I see a silhouette near the edge of the porch lifting what looks a hell of a lot like a phone, snapping pictures.
“I gotta go,” I murmur.
“Rox? What’s—”
“I’ll call you later.” I hang up before she can say anything else and set my phone down.
My heart thuds but not with fear, exactly. Just that sudden, instinctive tension that tells me something isn’t right, even if it isn’t dangerous.
Besides, I recognize that silhouette. I’ve only seen it once, but the image is burned behind my eyelids, and the guys won’t be happy she’s here. Standing up, I tug on my boots by the door and step outside.
Cold slaps me in the face as snowflakes cling to my hair and eyelashes a second after I close the door behind me. Wind hums through the trees, but Tessa keeps snapping pictures of the house like a nature photographer stalking a lazy bird in summer.
Her pitch-black hair is perfectly curled despite the weather, her lips painted a deep red, and her phone is still raised. When she sees me, she looks me up and down, slow and disdainful.
“Well,” she says flatly, lowering the phone. “I’m surprised you came running out. I thought you might be hiding inside, rolling around in all their money.”
My stomach twists, but anger rises right behind it. “What are you doing here?”
She smirks. “Just checking in on Boone. Seeing where my husband lives these days.”