Page 1 of Don't Want to Fall
Chapter One
Devin
“No social media until we board the plane home,” Alanna, the maid of honor, insists. Well, ex-maid of honor considering the wedding’s been called off. She’s eyeing me, of course, because I’m the one breaking the rules.
“I swear this has nothing to do with our trip,” I tell her as our shuttle van pulls into the parking lot of the mountain hotel we’ll be staying at for the weekend.
The original plan was Cancun, when this was still a celebration. But when that all went up in smoke earlier this morning, Alanna called in a last-minute favor with her brother for the five of us to stay at his lodge in Montana.
I glance at Erin, the ex-bride-to-be, sitting in the seat in front of me, her head resting against the window. Since we left the Omaha airport earlier, she’s worn this mixed expression that’s both calm and zoned out. She hasn’t cried, but she also hasn’t spoken more than ten words. As a nurse, I’ve seen all types ofreactions to shock. My guess? Erin has shut down because the situation overloaded her nervous system.
Can’t blame her. I’d be numb too if the man I was supposed to marry cheated on me with my stepsister.
Just…gross.
Hopefully this weekend away in the mountains will help her start the healing process before she has to return to reality and deal with the shitstorm sure to follow calling off her own wedding.
I make a mental note to send her some book recommendations before we head home Sunday, if only so she has the fictional escapes on standby. It’s a language we both speak. We met at a book club two years ago and became instant friends because of our mutual, slightly unhealthy, obsession with morally gray men.
More than that, I’m hoping this time away will helpmefigure out what I’m going to do with my life since I got unceremoniously fired three days ago.
Fucking men.
Correction: fuckingboys.
I’ve read enough romance novels to know that a man in his healthy masculine is a night and day difference from a self-absorbed boy who wouldn’t understand following through on a commitment if it bit him in the ass with razor-sharp puppy teeth.
In hindsight, I knew the risk I was taking going out on a date with a patient. But that doesn’t excuse the asshole for dining and dashing on said date. My bank account is a hundred and twelve dollars emptier thanks toJerek withJ.
And it was just my luck that my Director of Nursing was in the same restaurant and recognized him before he pulled a Houdini.
“Can we all agree?” Alanna announces to the group of women in the van as it pulls up to the entrance of a log cabin style lodge. It’s hard to make out the details in the dark, but from what I can see in the glow of streetlights, it looks very fitting for a mountain town. It’s all toasted marshmallow colored logs, green metal roof, and dashes of fall flowers in hanging pots. I bet it’s a sight to behold in the morning sunlight.
“No social media until after the trip,” Stormi, the ex-bride-to-be’s sister, agrees.
“We don’t need to tip that bitch off,” Gabby, a cousin of Erin’s, proclaims. If she had it her way, we’d be in Vegas right now dumping Chad’s body in the desert. It’s not a terrible idea, but I do like my life outside of a prison cell. Even if my current situation sucks more than a little bit.
Alanna is still glaring at me, so I click my screen off and stuff my phone in my pocket. I’ll finish my post once we’re all checked in.
“Whoa, this place is magical,” Stormi coos as the group migrates toward the front sliding glass doors of the Cinnamon Creek Lodge. All except Alanna, who hangs back by the shuttle.
This trip will be good.
I’m sure of it.
Seriously. How could anything go wrong in a town named Cinnamon Creek?
It’s as though we’ve been transported into a Hallmark movie. Maybe there’s even a hunky hero for each one of us, because that’s definitely how a movie like this would work. I could really go for a nice, rugged mountain man about now.
I should hate men after my string of bad luck with them.Jerek with a Jis just the most recent disaster of an embarrassingly long series of mistakes. And while I’m ready to slam on the brakes when it comes to finding a future husband, I’m still a woman who enjoys a real-life cock from time to time.
Since we’re on a vacation, I think it’d only be punishment to myself if I ruled out a nice spicy fling with a small town, flannel-wearing man. Preferably one with a beard. Oh, and tattoos.
“Devin?” Gabby looks at me expectantly, then glances at the elderly woman behind the check-in counter.
“Yeah?”
“I just need your ID to get you checked into your room,” the older woman—Winnie her name tag reads—says to me, a patient smile spread across her slightly wrinkled lips. As though she has nowhere else in the world to be but right here attending to us.
