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She’s back.

I knew it the second my dog Hank ran down the trail like he’d spotted a ghost in a sundress. He remembered her from that other time.

Marley Bennett.

The woman who wrecked my head for three nights in Tunisia and vanished without a phone number, a goodbye, or even a fake name that wasn’t a reference to Indiana Jones .

And now she’s crashing weddings and slamming doors on my mountain.

I shouldn’t care. I really shouldn’t.

But here’s the thing—

I never stopped thinking about her.

Not once.

Not when I came home to Fraiser Mountain. Not when I got Hank, my dog. Not even when I tried to pretend she didn’t exist and focused on saving lives instead of wondering what happened to the hurricane in a halter dress who wrecked my peace.

Now she’s here, again.

Pissed. Gorgeous. Avoiding me like I’m contagious.

And if she thinks I’m gonna play nice and keep my distance?

She’s got another think coming.

Because I want answers.

And I want her.