Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22667 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
My heart leaps into my throat, throbbing there as I weave around the trees, heading south. The water is already nearly up to the second story of the old cabin and still rising. Her uncle’s place is bigger, but not that much bigger. I may not be able to get in through the ground floor and there’s a chance the entire structure has already been swept away.
I tell myself that isn’t the case—if the shack is still standing, the newer, bigger structure will be okay—but I don’t draw an easy breath until I hear the sound of rain on the metal roof.
I hear it before I see it and then, in the glow of my floodlight, the cabin emerges from the gloom. The ground floor is indeed under, but the small balcony on the second floor is clear of the flood and will make the perfect dock.
I slow the motor, guiding the boat carefully toward the right side of the balcony, heart pounding as I realize I’m probably within seconds of seeing Macy again. I’ve been so worried, so focused on action, that I haven’t had time to think about what that will feel like.
Will it be awkward?
Strained?
Will she regret that message once she sees my face?
Or will it be like no time has passed at all?
Before I can form an opinion or talk my heart out of my throat, the sliding glass door leading out on the balcony opens and Macy steps out into the drizzle. Her dark hair is longer than it was before, her cheekbones more defined, but other than that, she looks exactly the same.
Same heart-shaped face, same confident, athletic grace, same big green eyes that look for the beauty in the world, desperate for a reason to believe.
She lifts her hand to shield her eyes, squinting into the glare of my floodlight. As soon as I finish tying the boat to the balcony railing, I cut the light and the engine and shout over the rain, “It’s me. Theo.”
I can’t see her face in the darkness, but I hear her relieved rush of breath. “You got my message?”
“I did,” I say, climbing out of the boat and over the railing.
“And you came to help us? All this way? All by yourself?” she asks, her voice trembling.
“I did.” I jump lightly down beside her on the aging wood. “And to tell you I feel the same way.”
Then, I do something that’s out of character for me.
I’m not a shy guy by any means, but I’m not a steamroller, either.
I’m a person who likes to stand back and get the lay of the land before making careful, informed decisions. But when it comes to Macy, I don’t have time for any of that. I just need to get my arms around her—STAT.
One second, we’re standing face-to-face in the rain. The next, I’m crushing her to my chest, lifting her off her feet as she wraps her arms around my neck so tight it leaves no room for doubt.
She’s home for me.
Just like before, just like she always will be.
“Love you so much,” I whisper into her hair as her ribs begin to shake against mine. “I’ve loved you every single day you were gone.”
“Me, too,” she says, her words thick with tears. “Every day, Theo. Every single day. I’m so sorry I left without saying goodbye. So, so sorry.”
I’m about to tell her it’s okay, that everything is okay now that she’s back where she belongs, when something hard and ruthless takes hold of the bottom of my jeans.
I cry out, but before I can warn Macy to get inside to safety, I’m whipped off my feet. I hit the wooden balcony floor hard, knocking most of the breath from my body. Seconds later, a dense, shockingly heavy little animal plops down on my chest, finishing the job.
For a moment, I think it’s a dog, but then my eyes adjust to the darkness enough to make out triangle ears and an upturned snout.
I vaguely recall someone mentioning that Macy had a pet pig who makes frequent appearances on her travel channel. I’m about to assure the creature that I mean its mistress no harm, when the beast squeals like a feral banshee, directly into my ear.
Chapter Four
MACY
“Pippa, no!” I reach down to grab her under her front legs, but she hunches lower on Theo’s torso with a menacing grunt. She’s in full “defend my herd” pig mode and there’s only one way to get through to her when she’s like this.
I drop my voice as low as it will go and enunciate clearly, “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. I repeat, Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.”
By the time I get to the second “Peter,” my Mama Bear of a pig has turned to look at me over her shoulder.