Chapter 1
Chapter One
CASSIA
Six Weeks Later
"We're going to die," I announce, hanging onto the oh-shit handle in Clover Thompson's rental like my life depends on it. I think it might. She's careening around curves as if there aren't patches of ice on the road and no barriers standing between us and certain death.
I have no idea why I suggested Lake Tahoe for our annual writers' retreat. Actually, I do know why. Because Cord Decker—hot, bossy cowboy extraordinaire—has turned me into a madwoman since he started emailing me six weeks ago to complain about my books.
It should not be legal to be that fine and that damn grouchy at the same time. He's a beast of a man gatekeeping cowboys like he owns the trademark. His emails drive me nuts.
And yet I still suggested Lake Tahoe for the retreat.
Why?
Because I'm a crazy person, that's why.
Ever since learning that he's a genuine cowboy, I've been borderline obsessed with seeing him in action.
Nothing about him makes sense to me. He hates my books but continues to read them.
He's bossy and a little rude, yet he keeps flirting with me too.
He looks mean enough to go toe-to-toe with the devil yet doesn't even bat a lash when I tease him about things like knitting for kittens.
I'll never tell him, but he's the unwitting inspiration behind my next hero.
I need to see him in action just once so I can get back to work.
It's a necessity at this point. I may go to jail for what I'm about to do.
But it's a sacrifice I'm prepared to make in the name of science.
Or research. Or unrelenting curiosity. They're basically the same thing, right? Right.
But I would have rethought coming had I known the drive here involved being suspended miles above the earth on narrow, rickety lanes with no barriers to keep us on the road and out of the thick tangle of trees that drop hundreds of feet to the bottom of the mountain.
Actual landslides seem safer than this mountain with Clover behind the wheel.
"We are not going to die," she says with a laugh that fills the car. Her shoulders shake, her round face lit up with amusement. "We'll be at the resort before you know it. Just close your eyes and meditate or something."
I shoot her a quelling look. "Do I look like I know how to meditate?"
"Good point." She takes her green eyes off the road to smile at me.
"Eyes on the road, crazy lady!" I cry, covering my glasses with my hands. "I can't die yet. I haven't even had sex."
Clover cracks up. "Wait. Seriously? You're a virgin too?"
"Too?" I peel my hands away from my eyes to gawk at my stylish friend. "Hold the phone. You're a virgin? Holy crap." Clover is curvy like me, but she's freaking gorgeous. She's also sassy and playful. She can be a big flirt, and she's not afraid of anyone or anything.
Me on the other hand…well, let's just say I put the mess in hot mess.
What I know about life, I learned from books.
My mom always had big dreams of me being a pageant girl like her.
She even named me Cassiopeia as if giving me the vain queen of legend's name would somehow instill me with her beauty and grace. It didn't. All I got was her big mouth.
I'm cute, sure. But I'm not pageant girl material. I'm curvy and awkward. Public speaking gives me hives, and I'd probably die if I tried to don a pair of heels. The simple truth is, I much prefer the worlds inside my head to the one spinning on outside of it.
At least in there, I understand the rules and control the outcomes. I get to decide what happens and when. And no one expects me to be anything other than I am. I'm not too much or too little of anything.
My friends say I'm dramatic which is probably true, but I prefer animated.
It sounds less like a character defect and more like a quirk.
I have a lot of those. I'm loud and messy and animated.
My mouth moves before I can stop it sometimes, and the most inappropriate, nerdy things come out of it.
But the thing is…I don't care. I happen to like me the way I am.
I have a big heart and I mean well. Maybe I'm not model-thin like my mom.
Maybe I haven't slept my way through half the state of Washington.
Maybe I don't want to parade around in front of crowds or be known for my looks, but I'm healthy.
I'm happy. I have the coolest job on the planet and the most amazing friends. It's enough for me.
It will never be enough for my mom. It doesn't matter how successful I am or how happy I am, in her eyes, the fact that I don't date means I'm defective.
The fact that I'm curvy and awkward makes me an embarrassment.
She wanted a clone. She got a daughter with a brain and her own dreams instead.
I gave up trying to convince her of my worth a long time ago.
Now, I just try to avoid being in the same room with her as often as possible.
"Yep," Clover says. "It's not that I haven't wanted to. I mean, I've been close a few times, but I always chicken out. People think I'm so confident but it's all a show. As soon as I get to that place where I have to be vulnerable with someone, I run."
"Same." I tip my head back to rest it against the seat.
My mom has been married more times than I can count.
I think it made me and my half-brother both gun-shy.
Neither of us are in a hurry to follow in her footsteps.
When I fall in love, I want it to be forever.
I'll wait however long I have to wait to find that.
At least that's what I tell myself. But the truth is…
I'm so afraid I'll end up like my mom—falling in love with every man who comes along, no matter how horrible they are—that I run from any man who even looks in my direction.
"Oh, look," Clover says, lifting a hand from the steering wheel to point one perfectly manicured finger at the cluster of buildings looming into view up ahead. "That's the resort."
"Oh, wow," I whisper, leaning forward to get a better look. The lodge sits off to the side of a dozen small cabins, rising up from the sheer cliff-side like the massive trees that surround it. It's so beautiful. Just looking at it has my heart rate slowing as a sense of serenity washes over me.
"It's a lot bigger than I thought it would be," Clover says.
"I know, right?" I say, a little relieved. Part of me was slightly worried we'd end up roughing it in the woods for a week…and no thank you. The outdoors and I don't get along very well. They try to kill me. I try to avoid them. But this place screams outdoors-adjacent serenity. I can handle that.
"I'm so excited to see everyone!"
"Me too!" I smile. Aside from me and Clover, Zoey Hart, Mina Chance, Paige Turner, and Emerald Lee—Emmy—are all going to be here for the week.
It's been a year since most of us were last in the same room together.
Having your best friends scattered around the country sucks.
We chat online or on the phone a lot, but it's not the same as getting time face-to-face.
Our retreats are always a blast. We spend more time laughing and drinking than working, but the new memories are more than worth the hangovers and lack of productivity. Something about spending time with the girls is just good for the soul. It's rejuvenating.
"Holy crap!" Clover cries, slamming on the brakes.
The tires squeal, the car fishtailing wildly as a massive red bull steps out onto the road ahead of us.
He doesn't even look startled to see us.
He just stops right there, the front half of his massive body in the lane, and turns two black eyes on us.
I cling to the oh-shit handle, certain this is it. This is how I die.
The car jerks to a stop, throwing me forward. The seatbelt locks into place, slamming me backward. I land against the seatback with a grunt as the exact same thing happens to Clover in the seat next to me. Complete silence fills the car.
The bull stares at us, unflinching.
"Whoa," Clover whispers a moment later when the biggest man I've ever seen in person steps out of the underbrush into the roadway.
Two green eyes sweep over the car, pinning the two of us in a stare.
His beard hides most of the scars on his face, but not all of them.
For some reason, he reminds me of Cord, but I can't put my finger on exactly why.
I think it might be his size. He's freaking massive like that infuriating cowboy.
This giant makes a quick assessment of the situation and then mutters something to the bull.
The bull chuffs and then stamps one massive hoof.
The giant doesn't seem particularly worried by the display, but my stomach churns with nerves for him.
Call me crazy, but I'm pretty sure even Goliath could have been felled by horns that size.
The giant says something to the bull and then points back the way they came. The bull chuffs again. Clover and I both gape in shock when he reluctantly turns and heads back into the underbrush without further protest.
The giant gives us a quick salute and then ducks back into the trees after him.
"I'm so glad I suggested this place," I whisper to Clover, my eyes wide. There are actual mountain men here. How cool is that?!
"Uh-huh," she whispers back.
We share a look and then giggle.
"Why did you suggest this place anyway?" she asks, slowly letting her foot off the brake to resume the journey to the resort. This time, she drives a little slower. Thank God. I'm going to be so mad if I die before we even get to the resort. "You hate the outdoors."
"Um…" I squirm, not sure I'm ready to confess my secret.
"Spill it, Cassia Murphy," Clover orders me, eyes narrowed.
"Remember that cowboy who keeps emailing me to complain about my books?" I ask and then wait for her to nod. Of course I told the girls all about Cord. "Well, he lives here."