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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“Let it be,” he says without moving. “Don’t let all the hot air out. It won’t cook evenly. Come on, you can talk to me. It’s only a little weird that it’s my best friend since I was five and my baby sister.”

I wince and then sigh. “You saw us at the party last weekend.”

“And when Ryan and I brought gas to your car,” he replies.

“So, you don’t really need me to spell it out for you. We’re seeing each other.”

“I hope that it goes well because if he hurts you, or you hurt him, I’m gonna have to do something about it, and that’s just weird.”

“No one’s hurt.”

“Yet.” Mac sighs and shoves his hand through his hair. “Look, you’re both good people with strong work ethics, and I care about you both, but you’re my sister. Don’t make me take sides if it all falls apart.”

“I am an adult,” I remind him. “I don’t need you to swoop in and save me from anyone, even your best friend. I like him, Mac. We have chemistry and…I just like him. And for now, that’s good enough.”

“Okay.”

“I’m surprised you’re not trying to warn me off him. You probably know all about his sordid past, and maybe you don’t want him with your sister.”

Mac considers it, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “I don’t think Ry has a sordid past. He’s too business focused to fuck around with women.”

I raise an eyebrow, and Mac rolls his eyes.

“He’s no monk,” he admits. “He’s done his share of dating, but he’s not a snake, Poll. I don’t think he’s left a wake of broken hearts in his past. You’re fine. But he’s married to his businesses, and he works more than he does anything else.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common,” I reply. “His work ethic doesn’t scare me.”

“Where’s the food?” Dad asks as he steps outside. “Everything else is ready. How are the steaks?”

“I’d say they’re about done,” Mac replies, our earlier conversation obviously finished, much to my relief. I don’t mind talking about Ryan. I’ve been asked more times than I can count if there’s something going on between us, and I’ve been honest.

I don’t know any other way to be, and the man kissed me in front of his family, so I’m assuming that it’s no secret that we’re seeing each other.

But talking about it with my brother is…weird.

Usually, Mac threatens to kill a guy after we’re done dating.

“Come on, you guys,” Mom says, poking her head out the door. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

Once a month, Mac and I come over to the house we grew up in and have dinner with our parents. Although we were raised here, the house doesn’t look much like it did when we were young.

My mom loves to change things. There’s always a project in the works here, and she’s made no secret that it drives her nuts to go to my house and see the paint swatches on the walls with no progress made at all.

Mom and I couldn’t be more different.

But I love her to death.

“I have to go wash my hands,” I say as I walk through to the hall bathroom and then stop in my tracks. “Uh, Mom? Where did the bathroom go?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. I tore that out yesterday. It was time to update it.”

“Didn’t you just update it three years ago?” Mac asks.

“I painted it three years ago,” Mom counters. “But it hadn’t had a good overhaul since you kids were little. Polly, go use the bathroom off our bedroom.”

I hurry through the house, through the bedroom that I don’t even recognize, and wash my hands in the en suite, which is also newer and decorated like it belongs in a magazine.

Yep, the apple fell really far from the tree.

With a smile, I return to the kitchen and help set the last few things on the table before we sit down to eat.

“So,” Dad says as he passes me the twice-baked potatoes. “I hear you’re seeing Ryan Wild.”

My eyes lock with Mac’s across the table. He laughs. I sigh.

Here we go again.

I miss him.

I’m lying on my back, naked as the day I was born, staring up at the ceiling, sweating, and not for any fun reasons. It’s moments like these that I question my life choices of not having air conditioning installed in my house. Sure, the hottest part of the summer is short, but it makes for uncomfortable nights.

I have two fans pointed at me, and I’m still too warm.

And it doesn’t help at all that I can’t stop thinking about a certain billionaire who’s currently sitting in an office halfway across the world, probably in a power suit, buying Egypt or something. The vivid picture of it brings a grin to my lips.

I regret not inviting him to be my date at the IWC party earlier than I did. He probably would have still had to go on this trip, but I still wish I’d mentioned it. I won’t make him feel guilty about not being able to go with me because it’s just a party, and he has important things to do. There will be other opportunities to take him as my date. But man, I wish he was going with me.


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