Prologue
Annie: Mornin’ sunshine!
Dylan: G’day, love. How’re things in your neck of the woods this evening?
Annie: Long-ass day. Started with rain. Ended with rain. The middle bit was filled with my boss calling me Princess in a staff meeting. Grrrrr. I may end up killing him soon.
Dylan: Don’t kill him. I’m too far away to bail you out.
Annie: LOL. Thanks for the offer, but Monet’s already promised to have my back with the bail money.
Dylan: I think I like this Monet.
Annie: Yeah. She rocks. Actually, she might be the only thing rocking in my world these days.
Dylan: That doesn’t sound good.
Annie: It’s not. You ever been sick of your life, Dylan?
Dylan: Me? Sick of life? Nope. Sick of Hunter at times. The bloody bastard’s been giving me a hard time about chatting with a woman in America again. I told him if he says another word, he’s dead.
Annie: Careful. I’m too far away to bail you out. Snort! Sometimes I wish we lived closer.
Dylan: Me too, love. But let’s be serious, a city girl wouldn’t last a day in the Outback.
Annie: What? You must be joking. I’d last a hell of a lot longer on your little ranch than you would in my big city.
Dylan: Station, Annie. Station. We don’t own ranches Down Under. Do you reckon you’d handle the snakes in the loo?
Annie: I deal with the rats in the sewers just fine.
Dylan: I’ll accept your offer of rats in the sewers and give back crocs in the river and spiders on the toilet seat. How’s that sound?
Annie: Deal.
Dylan: Two days. I’d give you two days before you were on a plane heading back to New York. Me, of course, well…I’d make one hell of a city boy. Blend in like I was born and bred there.
Annie: You wouldn’t last a New York minute, tough guy.
Dylan: I tell you what. Let’s see who outlasts the other. A Yank in the Outback or an Aussie in New York. Next week. Game?
Annie: Game on.
Dylan: Let me take a look at the flights online.
Annie: LMAO. Are we seriously doing this?
Dylan: I’ve never been more serious in my life. Okay. I’ll see you in four days, city girl. This Saturday. Qantas. Sydney International. One p.m.
Chapter1
Annie Prince sank on to one of the hard plastic seats at Sydney Airport, giving in to exhaustion. She looked down at her very wet, now defunct iPhone—she vowed she’d never text on the toilet again—and decided this trip had been cursed from the word go.
In the past twenty-four hours she’d run the gamut of emotions—anger, frustration, annoyance, disappointment, excitement, happiness, sheer panic and now…nothing but numbness.
She studied the hubbub of the airport again. How the hell did she get here?
She’d roamed the International Arrivals area for nearly an hour before giving in to the realization he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Dylan wasn’t waiting for her.