It doesn’t matter. They’re coming. And I haven’t found anyone to marry yet.
I knew it was only a matter of time before they showed up, but still, the thought of them waltzing into town, flashing their entitled smirks and probably charming half the town into siding with them, makes my blood boil.
What would Mom do? She’d pack up and leave. Start over somewhere new. Again.
But I’m not Mom. I’m not about to let a couple of Timberbridge brothers swoop in and ruin everything. They want a fight? Fine. I’ll give them one.
And we circle back to eighteen months ago. I really should’ve stayed in Italy and gotten Hot Abs’s number and maybe his name. He had the confidence—and the dirty mouth—to agree to marry me just for the inheritance. But no. I’m stuck here, trying to win a battle I didn’t sign up for with no backup plan except Tinder.
I grab my purse and head out, the crisp morning air biting against my skin as I replay every worst-case scenario in my head. If they try anything shady—like questioning my right to Maple Haven or calling me inexperienced—I’ll be polite. Professional. At first. But if they push me, I’ll hit back twice as hard.
Lost in my thoughts, I unlock my car and slide into the driver’s seat. I’m already imagining the confrontation: their smirks, my weak comebacks, and the glorious moment when I send them packing.
I barely notice the shiny black SUV parked ahead of me until?—
Crunch.
The sound of metal against metal snaps me out of my head, and my foot slams on the brakes. My heart lurches as reality crashes in.
“Oh, fuck.”
My car has kissed the bumper of the sleek, gleaming SUV in front of me.
Great. Just great.
Within seconds, the small-town curiosity machine roars to life. People on the sidewalk slow down, craning their necks to get a better look. Someone points, and the faint buzz of murmured speculation drifts through the air.
I crack my window, and the chatter becomes painfully clear.
“Is that the Timberbridge boy?” someone whispers.
“Ledger? Or is it the older one?” another voice chimes in.
“No, the older one’s already here,” a third person adds, their tone laced with intrigue.
Perfect. Because what I really needed today was a public spectacle starring me and my questionable driving skills.
I throw my car into park and step out, already rehearsing my apology. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. I’ll cover the damage. No big deal, right? But before I can get the words out, the driver’s door of the SUV opens.
A man climbs out, and I feel my stomach drop.
No.
It can’t be.
But it is.
Standing there in the middle of Main Street, looking just as broad-shouldered and infuriatingly smug as I remember, is him.
My heart does something stupid and traitorous, skipping a beat like it’s forgotten all the reasons I should hate him. Meanwhile, my brain is yelling,Oh, hell no.
“Yep, Ledger Timberbridge,” someone mutters behind me.
He looks just as obnoxiously attractive as he did in Italy. Those annoyingly defined angles, that lazy confidence, his dark hair slightly messier now. And then there are his eyes—blue, intense, and narrowing as they rake over me.
And as if the universe hasn’t humiliated me enough, his mouth curves into that infuriating smirk.
“Fancy meeting you here, darling,” he drawls, his tone low and mocking, like he’s savoring every second of this. “You really like fucking around with me, don’t you?”
