Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24934 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 125(@200wpm)___ 100(@250wpm)___ 83(@300wpm)
Bear’s leash tightens in my hand as we step out of The Devil’s Brew. The late afternoon sun stretches long shadows over the quiet streets of town. The scent of pine and snow lingers in the crisp air, a reminder that winter is settling in for the long haul. I glance down at Bear, his tail wagging like he’s got somewhere important to be.
“Settle down, old man,” I mutter. “We’re going home.”
He gives me a look, his ears twitching as if to say not yet.
We head down the sidewalk, the rhythmic thump of my boots echoing in the stillness. My mind drifts, the conversation with Ridge, Fox, and Liam replaying in my head. Their teasing about the mail-order bride ad doesn’t bother me—not really. I’m used to their ribbing. It’s the uncertainty gnawing at me. Tomorrow, my so-called bride shows up, and I don’t know what the hell to expect.
“Practical,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than Bear. “That’s all this is.”
Bear suddenly freezes, his nose twitching as he sniffs the air. His whole body tenses before he bolts forward, nearly yanking the leash from my grip.
“Damn it, Bear!” I shout, stumbling to keep up as he drags me toward the scent that’s caught his attention.
We round the corner, and that’s when I see her.
She’s standing outside The Whistling Pines Bakery, a box of cookies balanced on one arm as she digs through her purse. Her blonde hair catches the sunlight, glowing like a damn halo, and her smile when she sees my old sheepdog lumbering over—warm, easy—makes the tension in my chest loosen for the first time in months.
Bear has no such appreciation for subtlety. He barrels toward her, tail wagging like mad, and before I can stop him, he jumps, sending the box of cookies flying.
“Oh!” she yelps, stumbling back as a flurry of cookies scatters across the sidewalk.
“Shit,” I growl, jogging over. “Bear, sit!”
To my surprise, she laughs, the sound light and genuine as she crouches to pick up the mess. “Well, someone’s got a sweet tooth.”
Bear wags his bushy, black tail furiously, his guilty face buried in what’s left of a sugar cookie. I yank him back, muttering curses under my breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “He’s not usually this...enthusiastic. He’s got a thing for the puppy cookies Ellie makes,” I mention the owner of the bakery, “she uses real bacon in them–he goes nuts for them.”
She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s fine. He’s adorable. I can’t be mad at that face.”
She stands, brushing crumbs off her coat, and I get a better look at her. Curves in all the right places, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, and a smile that’s too damn genuine for someone who just had their cookies ruined by a rogue dog.
“These were for your kids, weren’t they?” I ask, noticing the box says Ms. Gerard’s First Grade Class.
She nods, her smile never wavering. “First day of school tomorrow. I thought cookies would be a nice icebreaker. But I think your dog had other plans.”
Bear whines, wagging his tail like he’s proud of himself.
“I’ll replace them,” I say quickly, not sure why I feel so desperate to fix this. “I can—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupts, her smile softening. “I can get more. And it’s nice to meet a friendly face—and a friendly dog—in a new town.”
“New in town?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just moved here last week. Needed a fresh start.”
Something about the way she says it makes me pause. There’s a quiet weight behind her words, like there’s a story she’s not ready to share.
“I’m Sarah,” she says, extending a hand.
“Grady,” I reply, taking her hand in mine. Her grip is firm but warm, and I can’t help noticing how small her hand feels in mine.
“And this troublemaker?” she asks, scratching behind Bear’s ears.
“Bear,” I say, my voice softening. “He’s usually better behaved, I swear.”
Her laugh bubbles up again, and damn if it doesn’t hit me like a punch to the gut. It’s been years since I’ve felt this kind of pull—this spark—and it scares the hell out of me.
“Well, Grady and Bear,” she says, stepping back. “It was nice meeting you. Try to keep this guy out of trouble.”
“I’ll do my best,” I mutter, watching as she turns and heads back into the bakery. Bear whines, his eyes following her until the door closes behind her.
For a moment, I stand there, staring after her like a damn fool. Then I shake my head, tugging Bear’s leash. “Come on,” I mutter. “We’ve got stuff to do.”
But as we walk away, I can’t stop replaying the sound of her laugh or the way her smile lit up the sidewalk.