Ash purses her lips. “It’s not healthy to run like you are. You’re freaking pregnant. You can’t pour from an empty cup.” Her cousin places a hand over hers, her voice softening. “You’re gonna crash and burn. You only have three months left.”
Tessie shakes her head, not wanting to deal with her anxieties about parenting right now. Or the blunt life lesson Ash is dealing. Her cousin has this uncanny ability to know exactly what she needs. Typically, she loves her for it. But right now, it scares her. Everything about this pregnancy scares her.
Scanning her small apartment, she chews her bottom lip. She worked her ass off for this. Anywhere else, she’d be well off. Not LA. The majority of her money goes to rent. Soon, daycare. That she scraped enough together for this vacation is a miracle.
Still, her apartment’s her sanctuary. Pops of pink. An emerald-colored wingback chair. Funky antique store frames. A vintage record console beneath the window. A three-foot stack of vinyl beside her bed. A happy, harmonious, positive space.
It’s why she became an interior designer. So she could give people safe spaces of their own. Even on a tight budget, she and her mother made their own comfortable space in their little home, decorated with thrift store trinkets and cans of spray paint. Tessie has always had a good eye for a steal, for the vibrant and unique. She knows how to make a room feel special and beautiful. Everyone deserves that.
And Bear will have it.
Only he doesn’t.
Not yet.
Because she’s been so damn busy with her job, she hasn’t had time for her son.
All she’s done so far to prep for the baby is clean off a spot on the wall where a crib will go. Hell, she still needs to get a crib. A baby monitor. And what else? She has a long list, a baby planner, and she hasn’t even opened it since she got this promotion. More evidence that she isn’t ready. A great, overwhelming hopelessness rises in her chest, and she has to blink back tears for the second time today.
She almost acknowledges her worries, her fears, aloud: What if I can’t do this? What if I’m a bad mom?
But she doesn’t have to. Her cousin, her best friend, knows them.
“We’ll get everything done.” Ash squeezes her hand. “Don’t worry.”
“We better.” She laughs bitterly. “Or Bear will be sleeping in a dresser drawer.”
“How very old-timey.” The bed creaks as Ash hops to standing. “What you need to do is finish packing, then we’ll eat.” She nods at Tessie’s stomach. “Feed the little urchin.”
That’s right. Vacation.
Inhaling a rallying breath, Tessie grabs her planner off her suitcase. “You ready to hear tomorrow’s game plan?” she asks, ticking off checkboxes with her pen. “I’ll do a quick Peloton ride in the morning, and then we’ll meet for brunch at El Diablo before heading to the airport—what? What is it?”
At the counter dishing out Lo Mein, Ash waves a spoon in the air, sending oyster sauce splattering across the counter. “I might have had to change my flight.”
Tessie deflates. “What, why?”
Ash presses her lips into a line and focuses on the food in front of her. “I’m so sorry. An emergency funeral came up. They’re paying me double. Think how many virgin margaritas that can buy us.” She lifts her head and offers an apologetic smile. “I booked the next flight. I’ll be right behind you.”
Tessie sighs, setting her planner aside. “I wish we could fly together.”
“I know.” Her cousin’s lips twitch into an expression Tessie can’t place. “You’re going to have the best time.”
She is. She really is.
With a fresh manicure, five new bikinis, and the best suite at the resort waiting for her, she is so ready for this vacation. She scrimped and saved for it. Finally, finally, she’s treating herself. Finally, she’s relaxing.
No stress.
No interruptions.
Just her and Ash.
Paradise.
Luxury.
Sanctuary.
She is here, for seven glorious days, ready to bask in her champagne dream of a vacation.
Heart fluttering, hands clasped to her chest, Tessie click-clacks her way through the glossy lobby of the Corazón del Paraíso Resort. Already, she approves. Mightily.
The resort is gorgeous. Upscale. Lush and tropical. A lesson in everything she loves. Breezy accents and neutral dreamscapes. Funky yet sparse without being cold. A pleasing palette of soft pinks, golds, and creams. Marble floors. A huge gold bowl of fresh flowers sits on a circular table in the middle of the lobby. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the beach outside. Palm trees sway in the breeze. A burbling waterfall behind the reception area evokes a sense of peace and calm. There’s not a thing she would design differently in here.
“Oh, hello,” she says to a terra-cotta-uniformed man who’s popped up beside her bearing a tray of bright green drinks that look like smoothies. “Are these—” She points, and the server nods at the drink, at her belly. “Thank you,” she says, taking a mocktail. “Gracias.”
Reinvigorated, drink in hand, Tessie inhales the scent of the ocean. Salt and sea. A recharge of her soul.
An escape.
A kick.
Smiling, she rests a palm against her stomach. “You like it too, huh?” she murmurs to Bear.
As she sips the cucumber fresca drink, excitement wiggles into Tessie’s heart. An excitement she rarely allows herself to feel. When was the last time she did something like this? Escaped? Had fun? She cannot wait for Ash and her pale-ass skin and surly attitude to slither in. She’s ready for the sun. Ready to work on her tan and wrangle one of those freakishly garish pineapple drinks fancified with a little neon umbrella and towers of fruit garnishes. And the room. Oh God, she cannot wait to see the room. Against the advice of her budget, she splurged on a suite. A way to say thank you to Ash for putting up with her, for helping her with this pregnancy every step of the way. She couldn’t have done it without her.
Tessie turns on her phone to check the time. Stiff from the plane ride, her hips ache, and all she wants is a power nap. Or two.
The device immediately pings in her hand. She groans. Is she insane? Turning it on is only asking for Atlas to harass her. Still, her fingers itch. To work. To fix. When she sees the first text, a heavy weight settles on her shoulders.
Suddenly, the time isn’t important.
After a beat, she shoves the phone into her purse.
Juggling her bags—the travel record player in her hand, the duffel slung over her shoulder, the suitcase rolling behind her—Tessie wobbles in her heels as she navigates her way to reception.
Midweek, the lobby’s mostly empty except for a couple arguing about whether lobsters feel pain when they’re boiled alive and a—
Tessie stops. Gawks.
Holy shit, there’s a bear.
A big burly bear in the lobby. And it’s turning. It’s lumbering. It’s coming her way and—
It’s bearded.
Tessie gulps.
Oh God.
It’s him.
At first, the sight doesn’t compute. Her brain scrambles, then locks up. And then it screams bloody murder.
Here, here, the mountain man from Tennessee is here.
“What—why—” Her mouth is permanently unhinged, emitting nothing but a steady stream of gobbledygook. “What—are—you—how—what—”
His eyes clash as he stalks up to her. All six foot four of him in blue jeans and a thick red buffalo plaid flannel fitted over broad shoulders.
“You took my shirt,” he grits out.
“I did not.” Tessie presses a hand to her mouth, stumbles back. Her heartbeat is off the charts. Stratosphere status. “Don’t come any closer,” she warns. Then, noticing his attention on her belly, she twists her hips, moving her duffel bag in front of her stomach to block his view.
“You’re accosting me.” She looks at the lobster-fighting couple for help. “This man’s accosting me.”
They ignore her, still locked in a heated battle PETA would approve of.
He grunts, an unhappy look settling across his rugged face. “I am not.”
“Look up here,” she says, jabbing a neon nail at him to direct his gaze away from her stomach. She doesn’t like the way he’s looking at Bear. Like he’s here to put a claim on him. “Not here.”
“Where else do you want me to look?” he mutters.