Page 10 of Me and Mr. Just Right

“Let her sleep.”

“But who is she?”

As slowly and quietly as she could, Lia slid her legs off the bed and onto the floor. Her socked feet didn’t make any noise as she stood. If she escaped the house, where would she go? She didn’t have a boat. She imagined these men did, but she wouldn’t know how to drive it.

She’d left the SAT phone on the couch last night. If she could just get to that, she could call … someone. Rose or emergency services.

“Do you recognize her?”

“She looks familiar.”

Lia peered around the door to see three gorgeous men in a huddle right outside the bedroom. The tallest one snagged her attention first. He wore a scowl on his angular face, the kind of face made for magazine covers under a headline like “America’s Top Twenty Boardroom Hotties.” His dark, almost black hair was nearly shoulder-length, and she knew expensive jeans well enough to spot that he had on a very pricey pair.

The second man was a little shorter and softer, but still strikingly handsome. His hair was a lighter shade of brown, and he’d pulled it back into a ponytail that looked windswept. Half of his face was covered in facial hair that appeared to have veered wildly past two-day stubble and intoI lost my razorterritory.

The last one, the one with the sandy-brown, shoulder-length hair, had his back to her. He wore a form-hugging hunter-green T-shirt, dark gray basketball shorts, and worn-out slides. The other two men were barefoot, which was a weird detail to notice but made them appear a little less threatening somehow.

They might be there to kidnap her, but at least they were considerate about not getting mud on the floor …? She shook her head at her own ridiculousness. Well, they could go barefoot all the way to jail.

She crept toward the door. She needed a plan. If only she could go back in time and keep the SAT phone with her. Or her shoes.

Or, as long as she was fantasizing about time travel, not come to Alaska at all. Not believe Gwen when she said she was just extra busy. Not give in to Bo’s intense flirting and slick charms.

Never go to Nashville in the first place.

She loved playing guitar, she loved singing, and she loved writing songs and engaging with an amped-up crowd. But everything else that came with it—the fame, the paparazzi, the broken hearts, the people assuming you didn’t have feelings because you were famous, all of that—she wished she didn’t have to experience anymore.

She’d have to run. Run out to whatever boat these three had come in, and hope for the best. She was in great shape from all of the dancing she did on tour, but these men looked like they were in great shape too. Hopefully they were slow.

“The only way we’ll get any answers is to ask her,” the one with his back to her said. All three men squared their shoulders and turned toward the door.

She paused, stunned as their eyes met. She knew the hunter-green shirt guy. He was her seatmate from the airplane. Mr. Ruggedly Handsome.Had he followed her?This was worse than paparazzi. This was a stalker situation.

With a large inhale, she grabbed her water bottle and unscrewed the top, and as the men took a step toward her, she surprised them by flinging the water on them, throwing the bottle, then darting past them in the fastest, most adrenaline-filled run of her life.

“Hey!” one of them yelled.

Beside the front table, a pair of keys sat in a bowl. She hoped it was boat keys as she grabbed the set and yanked the front door open. She’d only made it one step onto the wooden slats of the front patio when a strong, tanned arm wrapped around her middle and jerked her to a stop.

Mr. Ruggedly Handsome, she mentally growled.

She fought with everything she had, kicking and screaming, and if she could turn around, she’d have bitten him. “Let me go, you stalker!”

“Stop! Calm down!” He held her firmly, but his grip didn’t hurt, even as she knew her kicking had to be leaving bruises on his shins.

“Women don’t like to be told to calm down,” Beard-man said. “It makes them want to punch us in the face.”

“Right. But she can’t take off with your trawler.”

“Not in this storm,” the stern-looking one said.

They argued back and forth about if she could, in fact, take the boat she didn’t know how to drive, into a storm that was already making her shiver.

She yanked herself from his grip. “Why are you following me?”

His brow furrowed, much like it had when he’d comforted the old woman on the plane. “I didn’t follow you. I don’t even know who you are.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. Her mind worked through the possibilities. “On the plane, you must have figured out who I was and—” Her heart raced, her socked feet were soaking wet from the rain, and her body was shaking with adrenaline and cold. To her horror, her eyes stung with tears. “I’m going to have you all arrested for this. Stalking. Kidnapping. Assault. Ruining my vacation. Whatever they can get you on.”

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