She trips across the room and grabs my wrist. “Wait.”
I freeze, looking down at her hand on mine. Her fingernails are lilac and have little gems stuck on them.
How the hell does she get anything done withgemsstuck on her nails?“What,” I say roughly.
She smiles at me. “Thank you so much for letting me stay, Cameron. I really appreciate it.”
Then she does thethingagain. She sparkles, making her eyes all big and twinkly, leaning in to me slightly so I can’t help but breathe in a lungful of her sweet, heady perfume.
I back out of the cabin and shut the door in her face.
Goddamn princess. Obviously used to flirting and batting her eyelashes and getting whatever she wants.
She’s only staying one night. By morning, she’ll be gone.
And I’ll be happy for it.
THREE
SUMMER
Iwake up slowly from the most delicious dream. Calloused hands parting my legs. A low, deep voice in my ear. The scraping rub of stubble over my chest.
My eyes flutter open with a gasp, and I stare up at the dark wooden beams over my head, breathing hard. For a few long seconds, I don’t know where I am.
I’m certainly not in my bedroom. Nothing is pink. There are no cars honking outside or people yelling in the street. All I can hear is…
Birds?
I sit up in bed, rub the sleep out of my eyes, and look around me, taking in the wooden walls and rug-covered floor. The bed I’m in is piled with soft white sheets. Light curtains flutter around the windows. Across from me is a sofa, a wooden coffee table, and a small kitchenette with an ancient-looking iron stove.
Yesterday comes back to me in flashes. The trip up to Scotland. Getting rejected at the resort. The long taxi drive through the darkness.
Cameron.
My belly heats, and I roll over in the sheets and bury my face in my pillow.
Well, my dream makes a lot more sense now. Even through last night’s exhaustion, it was impossible to miss how unbelievably fit Cameron is.
He’s massive, well over six foot, and…wild-looking. I remember how he growled like an animal even as he gently scooped me up and pressed me against his chest. I sigh.
Tragically, Lulu was right when she said I’m in a dry spell. I haven’t gotten laid in well over a year. I’ve been on dates, but the only men I ever meet are other influencers. Something about the veneers, perfectly coiffed hair, and designer skinny jeans just doesn’t do it for me.
But Cameron was different. Solid. Strong. Rough.
And he clearly thought I was a total ditz.
Groaning, I reach for my phone next to my pillow. I expect the usual barrage of notifications—likes, comments, messages, emails, texts, missed calls…
Nothing. Not a single DM. I stare blankly at the wallpaper selfie of me and Lulu pouting, trying to make sense of it for a few seconds. Then I spot the symbols at the top of the screen. No bars, no Wi-Fi.
Shit.
I have a little panic. I don’t remember the last time I had no internet. How am I going to message anyone? How am I going to know what people are saying about me? What if the video gained traction in the night? How am I going to gethome?I feel sick.
I need to get some signal, stat. I swing my legs out of bed and pad across the room, waving my phone in the air. As I step into the little kitchen nook, I almost trip. I look down at my mud-spattered Chanel pumps, discarded on the floor.
“No,” I whisper, bending to pick them up.
