The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (christmas read aloud TXT) 📕

If the third time is the charm, what is the fourth? I call it stupidity.”

Tammy nodded against Freya’s collarbone. “Lots of people find happiness without needing to get married to find it.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

She backed up a few steps, ready to finish unpacking so she could get started on that wedding gift. “Invite me to breakfast Saturday?”

“Will do.” She hugged her mother again and waved from the porch as Tammy strolled down the path, then halted. “By the way. I already gave Seth’s mother your number.”

Shaking her head, she laughed. “If he calls, and if he seems likeable still, I’ll see if he’s up to attending a wedding with me. Have a good day at work.”

3

Which is More Dangerous?

Freya sat bolt upright in bed. A loud crack shattered the quiet of the night. Taking up half the volume of her chest, her pounding heart was about to bust through her ribs.

What the hell was that?

Scanning the back field, she climbed out of bed, staying in the shadows and peering outside. The half-moon was high in the sky, its glow illuminating only the most reflective leaves and rocks. Hearing nothing more, she sat on the foot of her bed and watched the darkness through the French doors that led to the back field.

Okay. It was nothing. Just her imagination, right? Her pulse was still ticking at twice the speed of the hall clock, but it was probably just a weird dream.

She was about to lie back down, when she caught a glimpse of a figure rustling the shrubs across the yard. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes and looked again.

Nothing. It’s fine.

No, that was something. And it wasn’t a deer. Nor was it hunting season.

Tiptoeing out of her room, she went to wake Sophie. Bedroom door wide open, bed made… Shit. Her pulse kicked up a notch as she remembered Sophie was crashing at Asher’s tonight. Great. What was the point of having a roommate when there was a potentially violent, armed creep in the backyard, and she wasn't home to tell you it was just your imagination?

Keeping to the shadows, she snuck back into her room and grabbed her phone. She leaned against the headboard, scanning the field through her window as she called her cousin.

Asher answered on the second ring. “Freya? It’s after midnight. You okay?”

Whispering for a number of foolish reasons, she said, “I’m fine. I just… I think I heard a gunshot, and I think I saw someone outside.”

She heard the sheets moving as he sat up. “Are you sure? Call 911.”

“I’m not sure. It could totally have been my imagination, then I’ll feel stupid for having called.”

“Call anyway. No one would fault you for being cautious.”

“But why would anyone be shooting guns and sneaking around in the middle of the night?”

“Just call the police.”

“No. I’ll feel stupid.” She felt stupid for even worrying about feeling stupid. “They won’t find anything, and I’ll feel like an idiot for calling.”

Grumbling on the other end, he said, “You have a Navy SEAL living above your garage. Call Zane.”

“No. He’ll think I’m crazy, and I don’t have his number anyway. You’re my cousin, a SEAL, and are about to be a police officer. And you’re sleeping with my roommate, and she’d want to know what’s going on. Can you see why I called you?”

“I’ll take care of it,” his gravelly voice relented as he clicked off.

Feeling even sillier as each passing second raised more doubt that the entire thing had been her imagination, she was at least going to be smart in case she wasn’t hallucinating. She snuck from room to room, checking that all the doors and windows were locked tight.

Tapping her fingernails on her teeth, she stood in the hallway, unsure if she should just go back to bed, or wait to hear back from Asher.

Another minute went by, according to the sixty ticks of the hall clock.

The doorbell chimed chipperly, echoing from wall to empty wall before buzzing her eardrums. Wow, that was fast. Leaping up, she rapidly tiptoed to the front door and whispered through the dense wood, “Asher?”

A growl on the other side said, “It’s Zane.”

Great. Asher’s genius plan was to call Zane. Huffing an exhale big enough to shift her hair out of her face, Freya accepted that her new neighbor was going to think she was a fraidy cat.

Unlocking the deadbolt, she opened the door just enough for him to slide inside.

Knocking her on her metaphorical ass like a meteor plummeting into her chest, a wallop of blazing-hot pheromones rocketed at her. Like a photon blast or superhero serum, the effects of it fueled her veins. He was…

Tall. Built. Ripped. Okay, so maybe she was being dramatic, but holy shit, she’d seen attractive men before, but Zane emitted one hundred percent Freya-altering pheromones.

Midnight forest eyes held dark secrets. Those lips were somewhere between pouty and stern, yet hinted at a wicked sense of humor… and could kiss all night without coming up for air. Big hands that would fit perfectly over her…

She nearly choked on her own saliva as she tried to remember how to breathe. How to stand. How to use her useless brain that would be irreparably rewired.

Okay, Freya, stop staring at the Norse god standing in front of you. Holding back the blushing giggle she hadn’t heard herself make in a damn long time, she bit her lips together and tried not to pant. “Hi.”

Middle of the fucking night, and his new neighbor, great ass that she may have, got spooked and needed someone to come scare away the big bad wolf. He tossed his phone back on the bed and contemplated the many ways he was going to kick Asher’s