His ex.

His Inn.

His second chance.

Casey Monroe doesn’t believe in second chances. Not the kind that really matter. So, when his ex-fiancé Juliet Foster walked through Bradbury Inn’s front door on a team-building retreat with her police unit, he knew it was an act of providence. If only he could find a way to face her.

But eighteen months of separation seemed impossible to bridge—until a freak accident had her walking back through his door. Alone. Stranded. He’s got one shot. One chance to win her back, or let his future burn up in a fatal case of cabin fever.

“And here I thought we’d made it through this unfortunate reunion unscathed.” 

Juliet Foster froze as Casey’s low voice sounded behind her. She palmed the inn’s main counter for balance then glanced over her shoulder. Irritation creased his brow as he stood in the doorway, arms loaded with firewood. His deep-green gaze bored right through her before he shifted his attention to the fireplace on the far side of the room. 

He angled toward it, his boots barely making a sound on the old wooden floors. “I realize this place is a home of sorts for you, but… Your department’s retreat is over. You really should leave before darkness falls. That road’s a bitch once the sun sets.” 

Anger mixed with pain at his disconnected tone—as if they hadn’t spent three years of their lives together. In the eighteen months since he’d walked away, she still hadn’t gotten close to being over him—the telltale kick of her pulse and the sudden flush of her skin, case in point—even if he’d moved on. Though, nothing had shocked her more than walking through Bradbury Inn’s front door and discovering their new caretaker was her ex-fiancé, Casey Monroe. 

Juliet firmed her stance, pushing the riot of butterflies in her stomach as far into her boots as possible. “Trust me. The last thing I want is to spend more time…here.” 

She cringed at the slight crack in her voice, the lie bitter on her tongue. Truth was, she hadn’t really felt as if she belonged since she’d left Fulton Springs behind and moved to Seattle, where she’d worked her way onto the homicide squad. She’d always pictured herself as more of a small-town sheriff. Someone who knew everyone and the community. Somewhere that felt like home instead of leaving her feeling like an outsider looking in. A voice inside her head whispered that her problem wasn’t the city, or the position that wouldn’t ever feel right—it was losing Casey. 

Losing the best piece of her.