Page 28 of The Route to You

“Sweetheart, I’m so popular with the ladies that the woman who brought me as a date to your wedding would rather hook up with other chicks.”

She huffed out a quiet laugh. “But that’s not because of you. If anything, it’s just proof of how nice you are—that you were willing to come be here for her, knowing how her parents are.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m an excellent friend,” he said. “I show up, I smile, I wear the tux, I get emotionally ambushed by my ex.”

She yawned, exhaustion finally winning, but her features had softened as though he’d managed to calm her. “So, you’re okay with me staying around for a few more hours?”

“Let’s just say that my plans for the day have changed.”

“Ugh.” Sloan dragged a hand down her face. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you need . . . until I check out tomorrow. Then I kick you to the curb. Lovingly.”

“Wow, so generous⁠—”

A sharp knock rang through the cabin.

Kyle exchanged a look with Sloan, but his shoulders had already tensed. Why would someone be knocking on his cabin at this hour?

He stood and strode toward the door, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach as he glanced out the peephole.

Sloan’s fiancé stood on the porch.

What the actual fuck?

9

SLOAN

“It’s your ex,” Kyle whispered.

Sloan sat upright, the hair on the back of her neck lifting like it had been yanked by a string.

What the fuck?

How in the hell did he find me?

“I don’t understand—” Her eyes widened, anger coursing through her hotly. “Did you tell Davy I was here?”

“What?” Kyle brows snapped together. “No, I—” He stepped back toward her, palms up. “No. I didn’t. What do you want me to do?”

She’d deal with the sting of her accusation later . . . if he was telling the truth. And even if he was, she hadn’t actually asked him not to tell Davy, she’d just assumed he’d read her mind.

Either way, she had bigger things to worry about.

Like what I’m going to tell Evan.

Another knock rattled the cabin.

“Do you have to answer?”

Kyle crossed his arms. “Between my car parked outside and smoke coming out of the chimney, he knows someone’s here. If I don’t answer, he’ll probably keep knocking until he wakes up a bear.”

“Well, can you find out what he wants?” She stood up from the bed and grabbed the first pants she saw—a pair of his sweatpants from the heap on the floor. She yanked them on, rolling the waistband twice to keep them from falling off her hips. “He might not know I’m here, if you didn’t say anything.”

Kyle stared at her for half a second. “You are wearing my sweatpants.”

“That’s not the crisis,” she hissed, fully and now painfully aware that she was fully garbed in Kyle’s clothing.