Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

“The one by your house?” I digging a little deeper.

“Please just let me pick you up. We need to talk anyway.”

“The one by your fucking house?” My voice rises from the frustration. I know he is trying to protect me, but Sarah is my sister. If he won’t give me the story over the phone, I’ll get it from somewhere else.

“Emma, we need to talk, and not over the phone.”

“I’ll call you when I get there,” I say, knowing that I have no intention of calling him. I’ll see him at the hospital when I get there.

If this is as bad as he says, I don’t want him to leave just to come pick me up. She may pretend to hate him, but I know Sarah, and a part of her still needs Brett.

I hang up the phone and stare into the annoyed eyes of my client.

“Are you done chatting?”

I let out a laugh, turning off my camera and twisting off the lens to pack up. “Yeah, I’m done.”

She rolls her eyes at my non-apologetic answer. “Well good. I’d like to get some more out in the garden.”

“No, I think I’ve gotten everything the magazine will want.” And probably a week’s worth of editing her ugly ass out of pictures.

“But I wanted some in the garden. Our time isn’t up yet,” she whines in the most ridiculous way.

“Something came up, but I have more than enough pictures for the magazine. I took every picture they asked for, and because I’m leaving early, I’ll even send you a few of the stupid ones with the dog in the rocker.”

“What!” she yells, but I just continue to pack up. I can’t be bothered with this forty-year-old spoiled brat of a woman. I need to get home, book a flight, and get my ass to Chicago.

“Sorry. I’ve got to go.” Without another word—and especially not the attitude I want to give her—I head out the door.

I make the short drive back to my house. My mind is racing with plans the entire way.

“Hunter!” I yell when I walk through the front door.

“In here, sugar,” he calls from his office/our living room.

I roll my eyes at his stupid use of the word sugar. You have to be either an eighty-year-old man or a pimp to use that one successfully, and Hunter Coy is neither of those.

“Hey, can you take me to the airport in about an hour?”

“Yeah. What’s up? You planning a little vacation and not inviting me?” he laughs with a sexy grin.

“My sister tried to kill herself last night,” I blurt out.

“Fuck, Em.” He immediately stands and pulls me into a hard hug.

Hunter gives good hugs. He’s a really good guy and hot as hell—a combination so rare that, when I met him two years ago, I snatched him up. Unfortunately, three months later, he admitted that he was still in love with some girl back home. We stayed up all night talking about her and how she ended up with his best friend. Poor guy was really struggling and I’d had no idea. After that, we decided to just be friends, but Hunter has become so much more than that. He’s my best friend. I don’t know what I would do without him.

“She’s okay, I think,” I say to his chest.

“You want me to go with you?”

“No. I don’t know how long this is going to take. You stay here.”

“You sure? I’ve got some vacation days saved up. I’ve never been to Chicago.” He pulls away to look me in the eye.

As tempting as the idea of having Hunter with me is, I know this is something I need to do alone. “I’m sure.” I offer him a fake smile and back away. “Okay, be ready to go in one hour.” I head to my bedroom to pack.

An hour later, I’m Chicago bound to try to help my broken sister, who I haven’t seen in over two years.





“CALEB,” I hear from behind me as Jesse hugs me around the waist.

I can’t help but smile. No matter how tough things get, Jesse Addison always makes me smile. She is so tiny and innocent. If she weren’t my best friend’s girl, I would keep her for myself. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have feelings for Jesse or anything, but she’s low drama and low maintenance. I need a woman like that. Manda was nothing like that, yet I loved her harder than any person should be allowed. If I’m really being honest with myself, I still love her like that. It’s been almost five years and Manda Baker still owns my heart.

But that’s before I was robbed.