Page 6 of Dump Tackle My Heart

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Playing fetch with an adopted rescue dog.

Maybe shirtless snow angels if we get lucky with the weather.

Wholesome, heartwarming, thirst-trappy content.

And guess who the featured player is?

Hudson Tank Jackson.

And guess who has to drive to the North Carolina mountains and film the whole damn thing?

That’s right.

Me.

Daniela.

The girl who once rode Tank Jackson like a mechanical bull and then ghosted him harder than a Tinder date with halitosis.

Kill me now.

Please.

Seriously, I’d rather get tackled by the entire front row than spend three days in a romantic cabin in the woods with the man I’ve been avoiding like the plague.

But this is PR.

And the content calendar doesn’t care about my personal drama.

So I’m going.

I’m filming him chop firewood and stuff a turkey and pretend like we didn’t once almost break a headboard with how hard we—nope.

Not thinking about it.

I just have to survive this weekend.

And not fall into bed with him all over again.

Easy, right?

Right?

Say right, dammit!

CHAPTER 2-TANK

I’m walkingtoward the SUV they assigned me for this wholeThanksgiving in the Mountainspromo, and I swear to God, it feels like every pair of eyes in the damn facility is burning holes in my back.

Maybe they are.

Finley’s got her clipboard out like it’s a holy relic, standing next to my little brother Koa—who’s smirking like he knows something I don’t—and there, standing between them like a fucking vision, is her.

Daniela.

Fuck.

My Dani.

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