Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86537 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 433(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“Okay, okay.” I put my hands up like dual stop signs. “I understand. You should tell him. I want you to have all the support you need. But…can you hold off for a couple of weeks? I’m still processing this news, and I’m not ready to take on town-wide scrutiny. Or…tell him, but maybe leave out the part about the father living in Wood Hollow.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. I can wait a bit.”
I smiled and shoved that niggling worry to the farthest corner of my mind. My surrogate’s bestie was unimportant in the grand scheme of things. All that mattered was this baby. All these years later…all the time lost, the bridges burned, the relationships faded…it wasn’t for naught. This was my new dream.
Fuck. I was gonna be a dad.
CHAPTER 2
DEXTER
Afew days later, I was still riding the high of impending fatherhood, imagining what life would be like this time next year with my new son or daughter when bottles, diapers, strollers, and car seats became part of my everyday lexicon. Freya was only five weeks into her pregnancy, and according to her doctor, we’d be able to hear a heartbeat at week ten. I couldn’t freaking wait.
This was by far the biggest and best thing that had ever happened to me. It was an exciting, life-altering event, and yes, I wanted to tell everyone. Not yet, though. I wanted the doctor’s assurance, and in the meantime, I hoped to get a read on Viggo Gustafsson and figure out why Freya had lied about him.
There was no way she hadn’t known that her friend lived in the same town. No chance. I wasn’t exactly hiding in the forest. I ran a business, which meant I had a website and a social media presence. She must have done some personal research on top of the agency’s due diligence—if only for the sake of curiosity. I mean…she was having my child, for fuck’s sake. Surrendering her body for nine freaking months for a veritable stranger was a big deal.
I wondered if there was something about this guy she didn’t want me to know. Maybe he was a bad apple. Maybe he’d been in trouble with the law and had an unsavory past. I could have solved the mystery of Viggo Gustafsson with a quick call to Reg. He was the chief of police in the Four Forest area, my good friend, and…my former fuck buddy. Reg could type his name into an official databank and within minutes know Viggo’s date of birth, address, and if he’d had any brushes with the law.
But if I went to Reg, I’d have to share more than I was ready to.
So for now, I was on my own.
That was okay. Theoretically, tracking a lumberjack in Wood Hollow wouldn’t be difficult. They were everywhere. And it wasn’t as if I wanted to talk to the guy. I just wanted to find out a little about him.
First up, Google.
I typed Viggo Gustafsson, Wood Hollow, Wood Hollow mill, logger, and got a big fat nothing. I decided that was a sign that at least Viggo wasn’t wanted for murder. Next step, I hit the coffee shop and snooped…without being obvious.
See, Rise and Grind was a well-known lumberjack hangout. They traveled in groups, migrating like hungry lions up and down Main Street. They were easy to spot. Generally speaking, they were big, burly dudes with grizzly beards who wore jeans, sturdy work boots, plaid shirts, or coveralls if needed. Sometimes they carried gear or hard hats with them, and a layer of sawdust.
Today, there was a group of five congregated at the counter, waiting for the baristas to whip up their drinks. They should have seemed out of place under bright lights with soft jazz drifting from the speakers, but these men were the heart and soul of this town. There’d be no Wood Hollow without the mill, and everyone here knew it.
I recognized Beau, a six-foot five giant; Ted, a rangy-looking older man with salt-and-pepper hair and a long beard; and Micah, a heavier-set guy with ruddy cheeks and bushy eyebrows. The other two were Dirk and Tony, barrel-chested beasts who were regulars in my shop. Dirk loved maple bars, and Tony was a big fan of chocolate glaze.
They had to know Viggo, but I couldn’t just ask them.
I could ask Davey, though—if I was stealthy about it. Davey knew everyone.
“Good morning. How’s it going?”
“Better now.” Davey fluttered his eyelashes as he leaned across the counter. The curly-haired redhead thirtysomething was an over-the-top, lovable livewire who shamelessly flirted with half the town. Including me. “Latte, two pumps, hold the foam?”
“Yes, please.”
“Coming right up!”
I tapped my card on the keypad and studied the coffee-tude of the day written on the blackboard behind the register. “Coffee is a love language.” Agreed. I chuckled softly as I clandestinely turned toward a new gaggle of lumberjacks entering the store. None of them resembled Freya’s description. I should have asked to see a photo of Viggo, but as I mentioned, I hadn’t been thinking straight.