Taken: Warriors of Hir, Book 2 Read Free

the table still covered with all that wedding stuff when she’d gone to Asheville—copies of Brides magazine, venue brochures, sample invitations printed in silver and gold. Brian’s clothes might still hang in the closet—or not.  He might have cleared his stuff out with Megan’s help but Hope doubted those two would be thoughtful enough to strip the bed. The sheets would smell like him. And possibly of Megan’s Hermès perfume too.
    Having to walk into that living room tonight, alone, and see all those broken hopes waiting for her, the model brides smiling up from their big glossy pictures, the scent of optimism and anticipation gone sour, that cold, lonely bed—
    Dear God, I think I’m actually better off here with the crazy mountain folk . . .
    “Ah! Here you go, sugar.” Smiling, Dolly held up a key ring and jangled the keys before Hope. “Let me just run in the back and get you the rental packet.”

    Still rubbing her eyes, Hope dragged herself onto the screened-in porch that ran the length of the cabin’s front. She’d managed to fall asleep last night but she still felt tired and raw. Dressed in jeans, T-shirt, and hiking boots, her favorite sweater and a cup of tea proof against the chill, Hope sank into one of the rustic rocking chairs to look out on the Smoky Mountain morning.
    Fog blanketed the woods surrounding the cabin and gave the mountains a peaceful, otherworldly air. Hope wrapped her hands around the cup’s warmth and hunkered down, holding the teacup against the frozen lump where her heart used to be.
    From Dolly’s helmet hair and polyester clothes Hope wouldn’t have expected the woman to own such a beautiful, well-appointed cabin, but this place was even better than the pictures. Three bedrooms—all with king-sized beds—a two-story windowed living room with stone fireplace, gourmet kitchen, hot tub; the place just rocked.
    Maybe I’ll just stay here. Use my severance to rent the cabin out for the whole summer and learn how to fish or make preserves or even do some real art again. Maybe by September I’ll have some clue what the hell I’m going to do with myself.
    Brian was just the latest in a lifetime of crap taste in men but she had good luck with vacation spots, at least. This place was just perfect for a girls’ weekend away. Good place to talk and unwind, to make cocktails and stuff save-the-date envelopes, to strategize about the wedding with her two best friends, it was even nice enough for a honeymo—
    “How about a walk,” she muttered.
    Hope put down her untouched tea, the steam curling above the delicate blue and white patterned china cup, and yanked her sweater tighter.
    The polished wood rail was smooth and cool under her hand as she headed down the cabin stairs. The ground was soft after last night’s rain, her footsteps silenced by the dampness as she headed into the woods. North Carolina pines towered over her head and the mountain air smelled richly of growing things.
    Yep, this is better.
    A mourning dove’s plaintive coo sounded through the trees. Hope quickened her pace, letting the cabin and the mess that was her life vanish into the fog. In no time she was enveloped by cool, clean forest with all the hurt and heartache and pain left far behind.
    I’ll walk for a while then head back and drink my tea. I’ll make pancakes for breakfast and I won’t think about—
    Hope broke into a trot, determined to outpace all those memories, all those nagging feelings insisting that something wasn’t right, all those red flags waving right in her face.
    Like the tiny tuck of smugness at the corner of Megan’s pink mouth whenever she saw Brian. How Brian was always suggesting she invite Megan to join them for drinks or dinner when it really should have been just the two of them alone. How he was a bit too proprietary with Megan, a bit too suspicious of her dates, how he always insisted on walking Megan to her car after dinner, his hand at the small of her