Page 41 of Stolen for Keeps
A rustle.
I turned, scanning the tree line. It was not just the wind. It could’ve been an animal, but it didn’t feel like one.
Then, it stopped.
My phone beeped.
Mr. No-Show.
I’m on my way. So so so sorry. Where are you?
Typical!
Another rustle. Closer this time.
Guess he figured it out after all.
I shrugged my shirt down to my arms, letting the tank top underneath do the talking. If I forgave him—and that was still pending—he could at least work for it. I angled myself on the log. Relaxed. Disinterested. Strategic.
Footsteps followed.
Then—
“Oh, hello there!”
It was not Noah.
Who the hell…?
The man smiled, his hands raised. “Sorry—sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was smooth. “I’m Napoleon.”
Napoleon?
At least the name matched the outfit. Polished leather shoes, cream trousers, and a navy jacket. He looked like someone who’d been dropped here by a drone.
I didn’t take the hand he offered.
Didn’t smile either.
He kept going. “I’m scouting for venues. Word is, Bitterroot Valley’s crawling with untapped charm. I plan weddings from coast to mountains. From Beverly Hills to Bridger Canyon. People book flights to places they couldn’t find on a map just to attend. Then they post, and suddenly the whole world’s heard of the place.”
Bridger Canyon.
That name alone iced through my bloodstream. Too close to what I’d run from.
“Good for you,” I said flatly. “There’s plenty of room out here.”
I gestured widely, hoping he’d take the hint and give me breathing room. He didn’t. He was still hovering. Still looking at me.
“People always ask why I scout alone. I could bring my assistant, sure. But there’s something about being in a place by yourself. I become the newlyweds—feel what they’d feel, see what they’d see. Trade secret.” He let out a short laugh, then added, “Not that I mind the company.”
I tugged my shirt back on, his gaze dragging along my arms.
His attention shifted to the bluff. “This might not be the best place for a wedding arch,” he mused. “But a photoshoot? Now that has potential. Rustic. Raw. Ideal for those adventurous couples.”
Then his eyes landed on me again. “Mind if I take a photo of you? You’d be perfect in the light.”
He didn’t wait for a yes.
