“You okay?” Bethany’s hand went to Lucy’s forearm. “I don’t think you’ve spoken or taken a breath in the past six minutes. I’m beginning to get concerned that the lack of oxygen has cut off the supply to your brain.”

Her best friend was hilarious.

“I just remembered that I forgot to leave food out for Daisy-Mae. I need to go.”

Yes, she was being dramatic, and no, her cat did not need to be fed, but she didn’t care. She lived a relatively drama-free life, so she was allowing herself one tiny little freak-out.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Bethany narrowed those big green eyes at Lucy. “I’m not letting you run just ’cause the mysterious Jack has arrived.”

Jack Jones, the hottest man Lucy had ever seen in real life, had indeed just entered the room. With floppy dark hair, piercing blue-green eyes, and a ridiculously symmetrical face, he was darn right dangerous. Throw in height, muscles, and a designer suit, and he was practically a health hazard.

The sight of him alone was clearly enough to break her. But the sight of him currently being introduced to his three-month-old nephew? She wasn’t sure she’d ever recover.

Annnnnd … my ovaries just exploded.

Cool, cool.

Who was she kidding? There was nothing remotely cool about her. Which was exactly why she needed to get out of there. Before she melted into a puddle, in her friend’s living room, on her pretty abstract rug.

That wouldn’t be a good look.

It wouldn’t be. Yet, she wouldn’t put it past her traitorous body. Apparently, it had control issues around this man. Which was stupid, because she’d only met him once for Pete’s sake. Three years ago. When he’d shamelessly flirted with her at the diner where she worked.

Oh no. He’s coming over.

Abort! Abort! Get out of there now!

Only she couldn’t. Her so-called friend had noticed Jack’s slow-motion swagger toward her, and amid Lucy’s internal panic, Bethany had sneakily grabbed hold of Lucy’s arm and was keeping it hostage.

“I hate you,” she whispered to Bethany, her voice full of the venom her friend deserved.

“You love me.” Bethany had the audacity to laugh.

As soon as their gazes locked, she felt it. That same feeling she felt all those years ago, one she had started to believe she’d imagined. Until now. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Her body flushed. And her stomach swooped. Deep down, a part of her accepted that this was just her body enthusiastically reacting to an attractive man. But still, the knowledge that she’d gone thirty years without ever feeling this instantaneous chemistry before made it feel significant. 

The closer he got, the hotter Lucy felt. It may be January, and Woodvalley Pines may be under a blanket of ice outside, but under her off-the-shoulder cream sweater, there were some questionable things happening. She may even be forced to throw out her bra.

I love my bra.

Wow. That was a sucky thought. Great. Now she was angry, flustered, and sad. Just in time for Jack to enter her space. Close enough for her to see the fierce intensity in his eyes, giving her the overwhelming urge to find the nearest blanket and crawl under it.

“It’s Lucy, isn’t it?” His voice was deep and smoother than silk. Did she mention he had a British accent, too? Because … of course he did. “We met a few years ago … at the diner.”