Dotted Line (Love, Camera, Action Book 1) by Elise Faber

Author:Elise Faber [Faber, Elise]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946140531
Publisher: Elise Faber
Published: 2020-02-29T23:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Olivia

We crested the top of the hill on horseback like the stars of some western movie—I smiled internally as I thought about little Cole watching The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly on repeat.

But then that inner smile disappeared, and my breath went alongside it.

The valley was spread out below us, green and lush due to the river snaking through it. Quaint cabins were tucked along one edge, larger buildings on the opposite end. It was a hidden nirvana in a sea of rolling brown hills. I spotted a huge circle of rocks surrounded by benches for campfires, along with a shed near the river that I imagined contained life jackets and swimming gear and fishing equipment. But the most startling visual wasn't the buildings, but nature itself. The way it wove through the camp, the cabins almost blending into the trees.

It was an oasis.

Clink.

One of the chains locked tight around my heart fell to the ground.

Yes, I knew it was a mental manifestation. Yes, it probably meant I was going insane. But no, I also couldn’t begin to pretend that what I saw in front of me didn’t just mean that Cole McTavish had stolen a piece of my heart.

Fuck.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, swallowing against the panic.

I’d kept my distance before because I’d had a good excuse. I didn’t shit where I ate, and I was a fucking professional. Now, keeping that distance was harder.

Because I’d leaped.

Because the only thing that was keeping my heart safe was the knowledge that he was good, and I was bad, and I couldn’t have him permanently.

But was I bad?

Was I really?

I’d gone through my whole life with a chip on my shoulder, having spent my childhood being told I was no good, that I wasn’t worth much, that I was rotten inside. I’d found my worth in work, but it was also all tied up in that. The job, getting my clients the best deals at any expense.

I worked hard because it had been the only thing I was good at.

And now I wondered if that was gone, who would I be?

I’d always told myself that I was going to work hard and fast and intense until I was fifty, and then I’d retire on a beach somewhere, having done my time. But that imagery never contained another person—or at least not one aside from a cabana boy. Now I wondered if it would be enough. If without the work, I could find my worth in other things.

Was I even capable of that?

Without my career, what was I?

A card house, beautiful and intricate on the outside, but empty and crumbling on the inside?

That was what worried me.

I’d thought I was strong, but then plunk me back into circumstances similar to my childhood and I was losing my mind, breaking down at a nickname, crying over a long-gone horse, fucking a man who’d I’d purposefully kept at a distance because he deserved to find his happy . . . and not with a woman who at thirty-two still didn’t really understand the person she was inside.

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