Do I care?
No, I do not.
I wassleeping.
Hard.
I’d sleep here every night if I could sleep this hard, but longer.
“She speaks,” Dylan Wright says. “Welcome back to the land of the living. Gotta get moving. I’m due in Deer Drop for a shower-valve-assembly problem, and I can’t leave you here alone.”
My eyelids refuse to open.
My mouth tastes like I went scuba diving in a landfill.
I’m still wearing my shirt, and I think my pants, too, and my hairstyle today will most likely be full regret.
“Affabammala?” I croak out.
“It’s five thirty. And I also promised I’d get this place locked up. C’mon, princess. Time to go.”
I pry open my eyelids to scowl at him.
Ihatebeing calledprincessalmost as much as I hate that I have to fake my way through one more morning here.
But not as much as I hate mornings.
Ihatemornings.
I hate mornings so much that if Gigi were put in a wrestling match with mornings, I actually don’t know who I’d root for. If hell is real, mine will be an eternity of an alarm clock buzzing thirty seconds after I fall asleep.
My vision is blurry, but I can still tell he’s grinning at me as he prods me. “I thought you loved mornings. Always pass you when you’re out running at six a.m.”
My heart does a slow somersault of excitement at the idea that he sees me every morning.
And my brain translates exactly what that grin looks like when it’s in its full, clear glory, and I want to scowl at him all over again, but that would take effort, and the truth is, Dylan Wright is not the kind of man you scowl at.
He’s the kind of man you toss your panties at.
Not just because he’s drop-dead gorgeous-handsome, which I didnotexpect to find in the Northwoods of Wisconsin, but also because he’s kind and generous and easygoing in ways that I don’t normally find in the men in my life.
For the record, I know attractive people exist outside my social spheres. I’ve traveled extensively, and I know there are attractive people everywhere.
But he’s next level. He makes Calvin Klein underwear models look average. He would stop traffic in LA. If he got a job as a newscaster, the world would be saved, because no one would hear any negative reporting, even if he covered an asteroid hurtling to earth headed straight toward an orphanage full of babies and puppies. They’d be too awestruck with the gorgeous view to process a word he actually said, and all those good vibes would miraculously make the asteroid bounce off the world’s good-vibes force shield.
Or possibly all my brain cells are broken by this massive crush that I have on a guy who doesnotbelong in my world.
It’s like he’s not real, but I want him to be real, and I want to soak him up every single minute of the day until I can finally leave this town—and the people I’m related to—behind.
But Dylan isinvolved with someone.
Off limits.
Taken.
Unavailable.
And honestly?
