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)
His voice hit me like a physical blow, and I froze.
Tommy?
It couldn’t be.
He turned then, and our eyes locked across the crowded room. I blinked in shock.
Tommy fucking Marian was standing at the front of the room, looking just as stunned as I felt. For a moment, he faltered, the words dying on his lips as he stared at me.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Six months. Six months of trying to forget, and now this. The one man I never thought I’d see again. Didn’t want to see again.
Asshole.
Tommy recovered first, breaking eye contact to address the other people in the room again with a small clearing of his throat. “But it also means we need to be ready for the unexpected, which I’m sure you already know.”
The rest of his words faded to background noise as I tried to process what was happening. What were the odds? What was he even doing here? He was supposed to be a hotshot ER doctor on the verge of selling out to anesthesia. He was supposed to be in New York, playing happy family with his poor, unsuspecting bride.
I felt a tug on the leash and looked down to see Chick sitting alertly, head tilted as she studied Tommy with great interest.
Great. Even my dog was captivated by him. The traitor.
When orientation ended, people began milling about, talking in groups, and I turned to go. Maybe I could use Chick as an excuse to get some fresh air.
A friendly woman with a clipboard and a name badge that said Robyn stopped me and introduced herself as one of the program coordinators.
“Sheriff, welcome to SERA. Trace will come find you as soon as he has a free minute. In the meantime, here’s your room information and key, as well as a property map. Don’t hesitate to let me know if you have any questions. We’re so happy you could join us!”
“Thanks, sorry I was late. But, uh… can you tell me what Tommy Marian is doing here?”
Her face lit up. “Oh! He’s the temporary medical director. His family helped Trace start SERA. In fact, the land we’re on was originally part of the Marians’ property. They donated it to the program. You’ll love Dr. Marian. He’s amazing.”
I could tell she was the victim of a little hero worship, and part of me wanted to ruin her pretty image of the man by explaining he wasn’t quite as amazing as she thought. Instead, I nodded and murmured my thanks.
As I made my way back out to my truck, Chickie trotting at my heels, I tore open the flap of the envelope and pulled out my room key, along with a couple of folded pages.
“The fuck?” I breathed, staring at the rooming assignment.
Cabin 8: Dr. Thomas Marian, Director of Emergency Medicine, and Foster Blake, Director of Search and Rescue.
I stared at the names to see if my brain or eyes could possibly be playing tricks on me. But no, the words were there.
The two of us were sharing a cabin.
I ran a hand through my hair and huffed out a humorless laugh. Seriously, what were the fucking chances?
Actually, probably pretty good if Desi had been shacking up with the previous medical guy. Fuck.
Chick looked up at me with those trusting brown eyes, completely unaware of the shit storm brewing. I took a deep breath and tried to get ahold of myself.
Maybe I should leave. Maybe this was a sign I should go back to Majestic and focus on my own damned career instead of my SAR obsession.
I gritted my teeth and shook my head. I’d be damned if I’d let some selfish-as-fuck, married city boy take away my opportunity to teach and learn about one of my favorite topics.
No, I wouldn’t be leaving. If Dr. Marian didn’t want a reminder of his indiscretions, then he would have to be the one to leave.
“Come on, girl,” I said, tugging gently on her leash.
I walked out of the main hall without looking back to see where the good doctor was, but there was no need. The image of Tommy Marian’s beautiful fucking face had been seared into my memory six long months ago.
It was going to be an excruciating summer.
6
TOMMY
I was freaking the fuck out.
The moment Foster Blake walked out of orientation, my professional facade cracked. My hands shook as I gathered my papers, barely registering the confused looks from the other instructors as they filed out.
How was it possible this man was here right now? He was a sheriff in a completely different state—okay, fine, the state right next door, but sheriffs didn’t have time to go off teaching wilderness courses, especially during peak tourist season. Did they?
And how had I known it was his peak tourist season? I might have googled Majestic, Wyoming. I might even have bookmarked the sheriff’s office page and spent several hours going down rabbit holes until I found a gap-toothed photo of him holding up a silvery-scaled river trout: “Local legend in the making! 14-year-old Foster Blake snagged ‘Biggest Catch’ at this year’s Majestic River Round-Up.”