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)
“Well, you did kiss him senseless a couple days before you were supposed to be marrying someone else,” she reminded me unhelpfully. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. I just…” I lowered my voice. “What if I say something stupid?”
“Then he’ll know you’re human. Stop overthinking it and talk to the guy. Worked pretty damn well last time, right? So follow your gut.”
That was laughable. My gut had caused me to throw away a prestigious position in New York and fuck off to Montana. I wasn’t sure my gut was in any position to be making important decisions right now.
“What do I even say to him?”
“The truth,” Ella said simply. “You hated that he didn’t give you a chance to explain everything that morning in Hawaii, so now’s your chance. Tell him that meeting him made you realize you were living someone else’s life. That you called off your wedding because of him. That you’re finally trying to figure out who you really are.”
“And what if he doesn’t care?”
“Then at least you’ll know you tried. Jesus, it’s not like you need to marry the guy. Just fuck him. Gotta go!”
My face ignited at the image of a naked Foster Blake moving hungrily against a naked… me. I was so distracted, it took me a long moment to realize she’d hung up.
By the time I approached Cabin 8, the sun was touching the mountaintop, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. I stood outside the door for five minutes, rehearsing what I’d say, before I finally knocked.
From inside, I heard a deep voice—his voice—saying something about “not chewing shoes,” followed by a dog’s excited yip. The sound made me smile despite my nerves. He’d gotten the puppy after all.
The door swung open, and there he was. Foster Blake, even more devastatingly handsome than I remembered. His dark hair was slightly damp, like he’d just showered, and he wore a faded henley that clung to broad shoulders. For a split second, I caught something in his eyes—surprise, maybe even a flicker of the same heat from Hawaii—before his expression hardened.
“Dr. Marian,” he said flatly.
“It’s Tommy, actually,” I said, my shoulders around my ears. If he acted like this, it was going to be a long summer.
His jaw tightened, and he growled, “Tommy.”
My skin prickled. Before I could think of anything to say, the puppy crashed into my legs—all floppy ears and oversized paws, tail wagging so hard her entire body wiggled.
“Chickie, no!” Foster commanded, but the dog ignored him completely, standing on her hind legs to paw at my thighs.
I couldn’t help but smile as I crouched down to pet her. “Hello there. Aren’t you friendly?”
“Ignore her,” Foster muttered. “She’s a mess.”
“I don’t mind.” I scratched behind Chickie’s ears, grateful for the momentary distraction. “She’s adorable.”
“She’s a menace,” Foster said, but there was unmistakable affection in his voice. He stepped back, reluctantly making space for me to enter. “I took the bed on the right.”
The cabin was small—two double beds, separated only by a double nightstand with a coffee maker on top, a tiny table with two chairs, and a small bathroom. It had seemed fine when I’d brought my stuff over from Ella’s house this afternoon, but now there was barely enough room for two grown men to coexist without constantly brushing against each other. This was going to be torture.
I sat on the edge of the other bed and turned to face him. “Foster, I think we should talk about—”
“No need,” he said curtly. “I’m good.”
“I’d still like a chance to explain.”
“What’s there to explain? You were in Hawaii to get married,” he said, voice clipped. “I figured that out when I saw you literally labeled ‘Groom’ standing next to a lovely woman labeled ‘Bride.’ Couldn’t have been clearer, so thanks for that.”
I swallowed hard, trying to figure out how to tell him I’d called off the wedding. That I was single now. That if he would ever want to—
“It’s eight weeks, Tommy,” he clipped. “We’re here to work, so let’s do that.” Foster moved away from me, focusing on emptying his duffle into the nightstand drawers.
My body betrayed me with a strange numbness.
Work. Right. Message received.
Chickie sniffed at my hand before giving it a big lick. I squatted down to stroke her silky ears. “How old is she?”
“Too young. Should have gotten a properly trained dog. I’ll be lucky if she can track anything by next summer.” He didn’t bother turning around. “She has the tracking instincts of that fish in that movie who can’t remember shit.”
I let out a snort. “You sound like those people from the plane who talked about that guy with the dog and the thing.”
He turned just enough for me to see the edge of his lip quirk up. “To Wade,” he murmured, glancing at me for a split second.