Page 17 of A Billionaire's Cabin Love

“Will do, Shelly,” Michelle grinned.

Eric removed his arm from my shoulder and chugged his beer.

“So that’s it, we’re moving on. Dating other people?”

His green-eyed gaze held mine and his jaw ticked.

“We’ve discussed not developing a relationship many times. I love you as my friend. Don’t end our friendship, Eric.” I gripped his bicep.

“Don’t look at me with those doe eyes. I love you as more than a friend, Kara.” He stood.

“You guys have fun. I’m going to shoot pool with Carson.”

I didn’t know what to say as I watched him stalk across the bar.

“I’ll need a few of these tonight.”

Chrissy gripped my hand. “I know I give you a hard time. Sorry, I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know.”

“I’ll lighten the mood. How about a crazy animal story?”

I laughed. “Yeah, I’d love one.” Dipping the shrimp into the cocktail sauce, I held onto Christy’s every word.

“Why does Ms. Markel not understand you don’t make house calls?”

Chrissy shrugged. “Ms. Markel opened the three kennel doors, and each of the cats ran around the office. It took thirty minutes to round them up.”

Michelle and I threw our heads back in laughter.

“She did that on purpose.” I stared between Michelle and Chrissy.

“I agree. She’s bitter you won’t make house calls.” Michelle chucked a fry into her mouth.

Chrissy shook her head. “Next time I will carry the kennels to the exam room. If she keeps pulling little stunts, she can have her pets treated in Anchorage.”

I nodded. “That’s a good idea. Was it a routine visit?”

“No, her cats fought with a moose.”

I shook my head twice, and my eyes widened. “What?”

“Yeah, the cats had a scuffle with a moose that was in her backyard. The cats won. Only one of them had a scratch on her neck.”

“I think it was better to treat them at the vet hospital.”

Michelle sipped her drink. “Me too.”

Collin peeked at me and shot a few handsome grins my way through the night. There was no shortage of drinks. My friends and I line danced for half an hour. We had the best time. Normally I had a three drink maximum. I was on number five.

My hands were plastered on my hips as I swung to the left, then to the right. Big, strong hands clenched my waist, pulling me against a tall, muscled frame.

I peeked up at him. “What are you doing? I was dancing.” I slurred.

After nine at night, the DJ played music and flipped on the strobe lights.

“Dog sledding tomorrow, remember?”

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