A week and a half later, Connall still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

In just seven more days, he’d be on his way to Montana. To stay with Bernadette. For an entire week.

If there was a traditional way to start a relationship, old chap, you’ve certainly blown it out of the water with this one.

He and Bernadette could count only four in-person meetups before he went to go live with her in what he could only imagine was a suspended treehouse dangling above the forest floor. He only had her daily emails to rely on anymore, since she was so deep in the wilderness that cell phone reception was still something of a fantasy. She drove forty-five minutes every day to reach a tiny village so she could connect to her email account.

If that wasn’t love, he didn’t know what was.

He chided himself as he pressed the refresh button on his email client. It was only four o’clock, but sometimes her emails came just before five p.m., though usually they came after seven. After eight days of this routine—emailing, preparing for his trip, wondering what the hell he was even doing—he was sure that one of two outcomes awaited him: abysmal disappointment or lifelong commitment.

He feared the former might be the most practical. After all, what was he hoping for? Bernadette was delightful, witty, the embodiment of sweetness, and too sexy for words. But in the back of his mind, he doubted that he could truly understand what she did and why.

They’d attempted to call a handful of times, but each time the connection cut out after a crackly start. Email was more solid, and it allowed them to really dig into certain topics. He’d implored her on more than one occasion to keep herself safe. Not being able to see the dangers she faced bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. She always wrote back that she was fine, she’d been doing this for years, she knew more than well enough how to handle herself.

When no new emails came through, Connall leaned back in his seat, locking his hands over the top of his head. “Deb?”

A moment later his assistant came through the open door of his office, perky as usual. “Yes, boss?”

“Have you received confirmation from Paulie that he’ll be comfortable in control while I’m on vacation?” Paulie was the new research and development guru, hired to replace Alistair once he’d stepped down to marry Jess and work at the university. He and Paulie had conferred about this one week, off-the-grid adventure he had planned for Montana. Even though Paulie seemed ready for the task at hand, Connall had trouble relinquishing control.

“He signed the list you sent over, the daily responsibilities sheet that you drew up,” Deb said.

“Good.” Connall steepled his fingers, looking out the window. There was no harm in being overprepared. Especially if he was going to be out of contact for so long. “Did you send over the list of contacts in descending order?”

“Yes, he’s had that for a few days now.”

Connall racked his brain one more time. He knew he had it all covered—and furthermore, a whole week left to finalize details—but he’d never walked away from his company for so long before, with such a remote chance of being available should an emergency arise. He imagined this was what leaving behind a child might feel like. It might completely unravel him.

“Thanks, Deb.” His computer pinged with an incoming email, and his stomach flipped. That had to be Bernadette. “That’s all for now.” He offered a smile and he waited until he was alone in the office to open her message. Devouring it was a special treat…the equivalent of his smoke break.

Connall!

Why are these emails so fun to write? I’ve never had such a consistent pen pal, not even Diego Ladino, the schoolkid in Columbia whose literal only task was to be my pen pal. I think we fizzled after two letters. But you and I…we’re eight deep and going strong.

I resisted the urge for a sexual joke right there. Feel free to fill it in later if you’d like.

Today has been good. I got up extra early to include another hour of observation, and the wolves have been exhibiting a strange interest in part of the sanctuary that is usually ignored. I’m not sure what that’s about. But the wolves, if observing me, might also notice that I have been exhibiting a strange interest in this particular little town so that I can fiddle with my electronic apparatus. It’s because of you. Though the wolves don’t know about you, yet.

You asked me in the last email where I see myself in ten years. I stayed up late thinking about that question. I even had a dream that I was a circus performer—definitely NOT where I see myself in ten years, to be clear. But it’s hard to say. I can see a variety of futures. But if nothing changes, I will probably still be here. Working with wolves. Collecting data. Publishing papers. Surviving the frigid Montana winters as best I can.

I’ve had other dreams, other fantasies, but they don’t always come to pass. I once wanted kids, even. But life leads us down certain paths. I realized, after too much heartbreak, that it was best for me, personally, to remain just outside of society’s gaze. I haven’t mentioned it yet, and maybe this is TMI for an unencrypted email server, but my first love was also my first heartbreak. I guess that’s usually the case, but this guy was one of my college professors. He told me everything I wanted to hear, and I fell for it, not even realizing he was married. (Oh, by the way, please tell me you’re not married.) He was the first in a long string of men out to “keep” me, if you catch my drift.

So if you’re just trying to recruit me to join your harem, you should admit it now so I can bow out gracefully.

Anyway, it doesn’t matter, because you’re about to join MY harem, and it’s way cooler than any other place. I’m positive you’ll love it.

I’m really excited for you to see where I live and what I do. You’re the first man who has ever truly been interested. These letters make me feel like I’m really getting to know you. They’re proof that you’re more than just heart-stopping kisses that I can’t stop imagining no matter WHAT I DO…

On that note, I should go. No use torturing myself when there’s still another week until you arrive.

I hope your day has been wonderful. Tell me all about it. And tell me where YOU see yourself in ten years.

Bernadette

Connall reread the letter three times before he let out the sigh trapped in his throat. He hovered his mouse over the reply button, already feeling an answer forming. I see myself with you in ten years. I’m not married. And I’ll bury it eight deep for as long as you want. But no, his ritual was to let it percolate, respond once he got home, take his time to make the email as perfect as possible.

He closed the message, a smile lingering on his face as he replayed her words in his head. The correspondence had allowed them to grow very close…closer than he might have felt otherwise, after only two weeks of knowing someone. The distance prevented physical intimacy, which drove him to jerking off nightly in the shower, replaying their steamy kisses in his mind while imagining what the weight of her breast might feel like in the palm of his hand. He’d never been so chaste and gentlemanly when dating someone, but something about Bernadette demanded it.

The anticipation was also a delicious torture. He couldn’t wait to get there and have her all to himself. To spend a dark evening fireside, learning all the dips and curves of her body with his hands and tongue. To discover the spaces between her ribs, the undersides of her legs, whether she preferred that he suck on her nipples or bite at them.

The rest of the week went by much the same: emailing, anticipating, wondering. On Connall’s last day in the office before he was scheduled to fly out to Montana, Dale called.

“Your assistant told me you were leaving for a week,” Dale noted dryly.

“I told you that, too,” Connall protested, but he wasn’t sure. Their update calls were something he’d been avoiding since Dale made his proposition.

“I haven’t talked to you since you went on that date with the lawyer’s daughter,” Dale said.

“Oh.” Connall furrowed a brow. Maybe he’d just been imagining conversations in his head. “I’ve been so busy.”

“Yeah, I bet! Getting busy with the enemy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Connall said, clicking dully through various screens on his computer, not really aware of what he was doing. “But her father might be.”

“You haven’t had a sit down with him yet?”

“God, no. Bernadette doesn’t even live in the state. She’s in Montana.”

“Christ. A bit far for a booty call, eh?” Dale chuckled.

Connall sighed. “Men have gone to greater lengths, I’m sure.”

“Well, at any rate, time is ticking, my friend. I need to see that document. If you’re heading to Montana to visit this chick, you need to take this opportunity to see what you can find out.”

Connall deflated in his chair. “She’s not going to be any help. It’s not like her father keeps these documents under lock and key at her place in Montana. Besides, she doesn’t even know about B3 Engines—”

“That she’s told you,” Dale said. “She could be wearing a poker face for all you know.”

Connall harrumphed. “Sure. But she’s not lying. I know her.”

“Yeah, but how well?”

Connall didn’t reply. The truth was, he knew a slice of her. And he really liked what he knew so far…but two weeks talking to someone didn’t mean he could vouch for her entirely.

“Just bring it up,” Dale insisted. “Time. Is. Ticking. I can only do the best job for you if I have the most information possible.”

Connall let his head hang, pressing two fingers to the spot between his eyebrows. “I know. You’re right.”

“Hey, and enjoy yourself, okay? You work too much. You deserve this vacation.”

Connall swiped his phone off, staring blankly ahead. Ignoring Dale’s calls had been a necessary move, an attempt to forget about what he wanted Connall to do. But now, it was back to reality. With two months until the potential destruction of B3 Engines as he knew it, it was time to get his ass in gear.

If you love your workers as much as you say you do, you’ll do anything, right?

He pinched his eyes shut. He just wished it didn’t have to involve a potentially awkward imposition on this beautiful, burgeoning relationship with Bernadette.