The door slams before I can answer and Ivy’s husband steps over to stand beside his wife. Their size differential is insane.
“Did someone say raspberry jam cookies? My favorite,” he says, greeting Ivy with a sweet kiss on the lips. They sharea secretive smile, and it feels like I’m intruding on an intimate moment.
The uncanny resemblance to my wild cowboy from last night is distracting and I stare for longer than is appropriate.
Dark eyes instead of gleaming green ones. Dark auburn unruly hair instead of messy blonde locks. Much darker stubble on his face. Slightly broader build. I can’t quite put my finger on what makes them seem so inexplicably similar, but the way this man moves feels familiar when it shouldn’t.
Maybe the night of hot sex rewired my brain.
Ivy’s husband reaches out to shake my hand with a grin. “Wyatt Logan. My wife has been beside herself waiting for your arrival.”
His voice does the same thing on wife that Ivy’s did on husband. It’s so sweet my chest aches.
I grip his hand gently, thankful there’s no weird sparks like with the other cowboy. “Elena Ortega. Nice to meet you.”
I let out another slow, silent breath of relief, settling after the shock of mistaken identity.
“Here, sweetheart,” Laurel Logan hands me a small plate containing several cookies that look too pretty to eat. “Try these. I have juice too if your sugar is low.”
Ivy pulls her attention from her husband and turns to me. “Would it be okay if I let the production crew know about your blood sugar? Just so they can have snacks on hand if needed?”
“Sure,” I say, feeling like an idiot for not thinking of that myself. “I usually manage it well, but traveling got to me.” And the hours of riding the sexiest cowboy in Montana instead of sleeping. And missing breakfast.
I’ve just taken a huge bite of the best cookie I’ve evertasted when the door opens again and a man in a cowboy hat enters.
“I brought you that contract, city girl. Signed and everything,” he says, striding toward Ivy while removing his cowboy hat. “I even read it first. Most of it.”
I choke on my cookie.
There’s no case of mistaken identity this time.
It’s him. The guy from last night.
Holy fuck, I must have done something very bad in a past life to deserve this.
I swallow as much of the cookie as I can manage, wishing like hell I’d taken Laurel up on that juice.
I cough, stifling the actual urge to let crumbs suffocate me so I can die right here, right now.
Green eyes meet mine and widen instantly. The shock and disbelief I feel are reflected back at me.
“Isaac,” Ivy says excitedly as he hands her a manilla folder without taking his eyes off mine. “This is Elena Ortega. She’s playing the lead inWelcome to Paradise. Elena, this is Isaac, one of Wyatt’s brothers.”
I can’t breathe. My heart pounds, rushing blood into my ears.
I know exactly what’s in that manilla envelope. He got the same contract I did.
What we did was against the rules. We blew the whole damn thing before it even began.
“Mouth full of cookie, sweetheart? Been there.” He smirks and I want to slap it off his handsome face.
“Isaac,” Ivy warns, but his smirk only grows to a grin.
“Isaac Logan,” he says, reaching a hand out while his assessing eyes rake over me like he’s remembering every sordid detail of last night.
“Elena,” I say softly, shaking his hand and doing mydamnedest to ignore the sparks zinging through me at the contact.
Isaac.I like his name—it suits him. I search my memory because the name is familiar.Isaac Logan.Then it hits me. “You’re the one running the cowboy training camp.”