I glare at him. “Wh–what are you doing here?”
That’s obviously a stupid question because I already know the answer. He’s the Timberbridge boy coming to get the legal issues squared away. Meaning: he’s trying to get my inheritance. And then the realization hits me like a slap.
Oh, God. Is this guy my cousin?
And we in Italy . . . Eww.
He raises an eyebrow, folding his arms across his chest like he has all the time in the world. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who rear-ended me. Not exactly how I planned to be welcomed back to my hometown.”
ChapterEight
Ledger
The crunchof metal still rings in my ears as I stare at the woman standing in front of me. She’s practically vibrating with anger—cheeks flushed, hands clenched into fists—and I’m stuck somewhere between disbelief and amusement.
This has to be a joke. A bad one. The kind my father would’ve orchestrated if he were still alive—or maybe the fucker’s having a good laugh from the other side. Hell, knowing him, he’s probably pulling the strings, just to see how far I can bend before I break.
I’ve had a shitty year, the sort that makes you wonder if the universe has it out for you. My mom died, my career tanked, and now I’m back in this godforsaken town, pretending I’ve got a plan when, really, I’m just winging it. But this? This feels like the universe sprinkling a little extra salt on the wound, just for fun.
Because heresheis.
The woman who ghosted me eighteen months ago. No name. No number. Just one unforgettable night that felt like it was leading somewhere—until it didn’t. We talked, drank, and she leaned into me like she belonged there, like the world outside didn’t exist. Her laugh was low, throaty, the kind of sound that made my dick twitch with the promise of something wicked.
And the way she looked at me? Like she wasn’t just undressing me with her eyes but was halfway to deciding exactly what she’d do once I was naked. It wasn’t just desire—it was daring.
I think it all started with something like, “Truth or dare?”
After so many truths exchanged, I responded, “Dare.”
“Kiss me,” she breathed, her voice a little too composed for someone who’d already drained two bottles of champagne.
Then I wanted to look at her pussy. I was seconds away from dropping to my knees, from burying my face between her legs and making her scream my name, when it all went to hell.
One minute she was playing, challenging me, and the next? She was asleep. Just like that.
Not a seductive fade-out, either. One second, she was there, practically vibrating with need, and the next, her head was on my chest, her breathing slow as I placed her in bed. I covered her with a blanket, muttered a string of curses under my breath, and tried to ignore the fact that my balls felt like they were about to explode.
The next morning, she was gone.
Gone.
There was no note.
No goodbye.
Just the faint scent of flowers lingering on the pillow and the memory of her laugh echoing in my head. For months, I couldn’t decide if I’d been played or if she was some kind of fever dream conjured by a cruel universe.
And now, apparently, she’s in Birchwood Springs. Looking at me like I’m the villain in her origin story.
“You really like fucking around with me, don’t you?” I fold my arms, leaning casually against the SUV, though my mind is anything but calm.
Her glare intensifies, her hazel eyes blazing like I just set her car on fire. “Wh-What are you doing here?”
A stupid question. One I shouldn’t bother answering. But there’s something about her tone—bristling, defensive, like a cat cornered—that makes me want to push just a little.
I shake my head, exhaling through my nose. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who rear-ended me. Not exactly how I planned to be welcomed back to my hometown.”
Her jaw tightens, her nostrils flaring. For a split second, I catch something beneath the anger—embarrassment? Maybe. But she snaps back fast. “Don’t change the subject. Why are you here?”
