Page 53 of Axel Martin

No strings. No names. No awkward next mornings where he made coffee shirtless and asked if I liked dogs.

Fast forward to now, and guess what?

He lives here.

Onthismountain. Where my twin sister lives.

With a dog, named Hank. And a cabin. And a body that still ruins my focus when I’m trying to yell at him.

Which I’ve done. Twice. Okay, three times.

The first time I saw him at Axel and Lark’s wedding, I nearly dropped the wine bottle I was carrying. ‘Damn he’s hot.’ He looked smug. I looked horrified, realizing I said that out loud. He said, “Nice dress.” he said, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

And now… I’m stuck.

I’m here for a few weeks—maybe longer—because apparently I need “rest,” “recovery,” and “time to process the cartel situation.” According to Lark, I’ve “earned a break.”

According to me, I’ve earned a stiff drink and a punching bag.

Preferably shaped like Frasier.

And the worst part?

The mountain’s big, but not big enough for both of us.

Fraiser

She’s back.

I knew it the second my dog Hank ran down the trail like he’d spotted a ghost in a sundress. He remembered her from that other time.

Marley Bennett.

The woman who wrecked my head for three nights in Tunisia and vanished without a phone number, a goodbye, or even a fake name that wasn’t a reference toIndiana Jones.

And now she’s crashing weddings and slamming doors onmymountain.

I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t.

But here’s the thing—

I never stopped thinking about her.

Not once.

Not when I came home to Fraiser Mountain. Not when I got Hank, my dog. Not even when I tried to pretend she didn’t exist and focused on saving lives instead of wondering what happened to the hurricane in a halter dress who wrecked my peace.

Now she’s here, again.

Pissed. Gorgeous. Avoiding me like I’m contagious.

And if she thinks I’m gonna play nice and keep my distance?

She’s got another think coming.

Because I want answers.

And I wanther.

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