Page 60 of Fake Date with the Mountain Man

“I miss you.”

Marlow contorts her face into the exact expression she gets during karaoke night at the bar when someone is embarrassing themselves by shrieking “Livin’ on a Prayer” into the microphone.

“Wow, so clingy,” she says with a smile on her lips. “This is embarrassing for you.”

“On second thought…it will be nice to get a good night’s sleep without the snorchestra playing beside me.”

Marlow shakes her head and laughs. “I miss you, too.”

“Goodnight, Marlow.”

_____

I wake up to the buzz of my phone on the nightstand. The room is pitch-black aside from the blinking blue light at the corner of my phone. When I bring the screen to life, the clock reads 2:14. Underneath, there are two text messages from a number I don’t recognize.

It’s a Tennessee area code. It could be the Incident Command Center. They have about a hundred different phone numbers and extensions.

But they usually call. Getting a text from them is almost unheard of. The whole point of the system is to respond to urgent situations after hours – murder, fires, injured hikers – and a text is obviously not a great way to communicate that sort of thing.

I drag my hand across my eyes, rubbing the sleep away, before typing in my passcode.

The first message is a short line of text: “Missed you tonight.”

The second message takes a second to load, but once it does, I can’t exit out of it fast enough. It’s Kayla pulling a pouty face in front of a bathroom mirror…and she’s completely naked.

Fuck.

How did she get my phone number?

I know the answer immediately: it’s on the emergency contact sheet in the binder at the front desk. She’s always hanging around there flirting with Emmett. She must have found it.

My first instinct is to delete the messages, but then I worry that I need proof. Proof of what…I’m not exactly sure. Proof that this girl is a giant pain in my ass? Proof that I didn’t ask her to send the picture?

Then there’s Marlow, who is probably going to strangle me. And maybe Kayla, too.

My pulse is racing, but my brain is still half-asleep.

This is going to have to be a tomorrow problem.

Chapter 21

MARLOW

Around eight o’clock in the morning, I get a weird text message from Ryan:Heading home soon. Can I stop by later? Need to talk to you about something.

My stomach tilts a bit as I read the last sentence. Ryan isn’t one to carve out time for special talks. I consider making a joke – reminding him that he can’t propose because I’ve already promised myself to Gerard Butler. Then I worry that it’s something serious and decide against it. Maybe his dad’s having health problems, or maybe Blair’s lips got stuck in a permanent fish face from the way she sucks her teeth all the time.

Instead, I type out a quick reply:Sure, call first though. Helping Abby with some stuff out at the cabin this morning.

I get back a simple ‘ok’ a few seconds later.

_____

Abby looks like she just went four rounds with a wild turkey when she swings open the door to the old Forest Service cabin. The bun on her head has flopped to one side, dangling just over her left ear. Her overalls barely stretch over the baby bump that’s beginning to show. Her mascara is smeared below one eye and I’m pretty sure there is a Cheerio stuck to one of her knees.

She greets me by huffing a rogue strand of hair out of her face. Her eyes are laser-focused on the bag in my hand.

“Sandwiches?”

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