Wildest Dreams (The Wilds of Montana #3) Read Online Kristen Proby

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Wilds of Montana Series by Kristen Proby
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 500(@200wpm)___ 400(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
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“Mac would be right, kiddo.” I laugh and then glance at Ryan. “Do you want to chat with your dad?”

“Yeah, I probably should. When do you guys come back?”

“In just a couple of days. We have a full day tomorrow, and then we fly out the next day.”

“Okay, cool. I guess I’ll talk to the old man.”

I pass my phone to Ryan and listen to the banter between the two men. It sounds like Jake is trying to get out of going to school on Monday, since we’ll be home by then, and Ryan is having none of it.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. Call if you need anything. Yep. Love you, buddy. Bye.”

Ryan passes me back my phone.

“He sounds good,” I say.

“He’s ready for me to get back,” he replies. “I can hear it in his voice, but he’d never say that. He’s not the guilt trip type, you know?”

“We can just go, Ry. I told you, I don’t need to buy anything tomorrow. I have so much new stuff, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“It’s just one day,” he says and points to a place with a view of the Louvre called Café Marly. “Let’s eat there.”

“I’m in.”

We cross the street and walk up the stairs to request a table, and before long, we’re seated outside on a patio with a view of one of the glass pyramids of The Louvre.

“Seriously,” I begin once we’ve ordered and have fresh bread and butter on the table. “Let’s go home tomorrow. Or tonight.”

“I’m not cheating you out of the best part of the week,” he insists. “Polly, those fashion houses have appointments to bring their stuff to you, in our suite, where they’ll set up in that second bedroom and offer you a bunch of cool, new things. I want you to have that. You’re not missing it.”

“And it does sound fabulous,” I admit with a grin. “Let’s compromise. We’ll do fashion stuff in the morning and leave later in the afternoon when it’s all finished. Let’s do both.”

Ryan takes a bite of his bread and watches me. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. As fabulous as all of this is, I’m ready to go home to our lives. I promise.”

“Then I can live with the compromise,” he says and passes me a buttered piece of bread. “Thank you.”

“No. Thank you, Ryan. For all of it. I’ll never forget it.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RYAN

I’m supposed to be working.

We’re headed home after a long day of fashion houses wooing my girl, showing her new items and offering them all to her, and Polly trying things on and taking her time to ponder what she truly wanted for her closet.

The little worry lines between her eyebrows were adorable as she considered, then finally decided on several items from each house.

She didn’t go crazy, and I like to think that’s because she was being practical, not because she was worried about spending my money.

When all was said and done, I even walked away with some new shoes, some shirts, and a jacket. I think Polly slipped a belt in there somewhere, too.

I think she had more fun shopping for me than she did for herself.

And, of course, rather than work like I’m supposed to, I’m sitting here at the desk on this plane, watching Polly sleep twenty feet away from me. She curled up on the bed not long after we ate and has been out cold ever since. Her deep red hair fans out behind her, and her hands are curled up under her chin as she lies on her side and dreams.

I want to wrap myself behind her and join her, but it’s time that I pay attention to my work, so I sigh, take my glasses off to rub my eyes, then replace them and open my email.

Jesus, there are over a thousand unread files.

So, I dial Arthur’s number.

“Sir?” He sounds surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. We’re headed back to Montana, and I just opened my email. Arthur, there are more than a thousand unread messages. I’m going to need some help.”

“I can do that,” he says immediately. “But before we continue, may I just ask, did you and Polly enjoy yourselves in Paris?”

I glance over to where Polly rests and feel my heart go to mush. “Yeah. We had a great time.”

“Good. Listen, sir⁠—”

“How long have we worked together, Arthur?”

He’s silent for a moment, and then, “About a dozen years, I suppose.”

“Don’t you think it’s time you called me Ryan?”

I hear him clear his throat on the other end. “Perhaps, once we reach fifteen years. Now then, I owe you an apology.”

I frown. “You do?”

“Yes, sir, for the way I behaved a couple of months ago, during your trip. I said some things on the plane that were unacceptable and out of line.”


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