Page 4 of Me and Mr. Just Right

Chapter 2

Haydnheardhissister’struck peel out of the airport parking lot before he saw the white decal reading Alaska Chic—the name of her boutique in downtown Petersburg—across the back window.

Close call.

He loved his baby sister, but Rosie was a bit like a frozen lake. Beautiful and serene—until the ice cracked and the water sucked everything down into its frozen depths. He’d already blocked off a week to help Rosie in her store, after he’d spent the week with his brothers, but until then, it was better if she didn’t know he was in town.

She could be a little intense, and this week needed to be about relaxing, connecting, and helping Bennett get out of his funk. And most of all, it was about convincing himself he’d done the right thing by turning down the offer to be the features photography editor forNature Adventure Magazine.

Sure, they’d offered him twice what he was earning as a freelance photographer forAlaska Ridges Magazine. And a chance to explore all of the United States, all expenses paid. And his own online journal viaNature’swebsite, with a monthly print byline. But he’d have to relocate to Los Angeles. Which was a nonstarter. He might leave his family for a month or two at a time to photograph different parts of Alaska, but he’d never up and leave them permanently. Not like their father did.

He grabbed his bags—the last on the cart. He’d learned to keep his camera and computer with him at all times, but his tripod was checked on, along with his clothes.

“Thank you again.” The older woman who had been screaming was one of the last remaining people at the airport, along with her adult daughter. “I don’t know what got into me,” the older woman said.

“Fear has no logic sometimes,” Haydn assured her. “And everyone was panicked, not just you.”

“Well, you were very helpful,” her daughter said. “Is there any way we can repay you?” She glanced quickly at his hand, probably checking for a ring, and her smile widened. She was pretty, but Haydn had a strict no-relationship policy for himself. His lifetime commitment load was overflowing with his siblings alone. Taking care of them was a full-time job. And most importantly, he wouldn’t ever put himself in a position to have to leave someone he loved, which—with his wanderlust genetics—was always a possibility.

“No repayment needed,” he told her. “Just have a wonderful time in Petersburg.” He pointed to his phone. “Oh, this is an important text. I’ve got to grab it.”

The woman and her disappointed daughter waved and then left, exclaiming at the sight of a bald eagle, while he opened his brothers’ text thread:

Bennett:You’ve got mail.

Bennett:I hear nothing. Not even a sound on the streets of New York (or Petersburg).

Jules:Just the beat of your own heart?

Bennett:Yessss!

Bennett:I have mail. From you.

Haydn groaned. It was going to be an entire week of this. Whole conversations in cheesy movie quotes, led by Bennett. And he loved it—not that he’d ever admit it. At leastYou’ve Got Mailwas witty—except for this monologue, which didn’t age well.

Haydn:Who even sends emails anymore?

Jules:We do at work.

Haydn:I meant romantic emails.

Jules:Excuse me? Interpretive law emails are the epitome of romance.

Haydn:Talk lawyer to me.

Bennett:People email all the time. I get like a 100 a day.

Haydn:Exactly. So it’s not special. My heart has never raced over an email.

Jules:I turned off my email notifications.

Haydn:Me too.

Bennett:You might miss the love of your life emailing you.

Haydn:It’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Jules:If she doesn’t text, she’s not the love of my life.

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