“Yeah. He’s got efficiency going for him,” Saylor grumbled.
She couldn’t fault him for that, not with how focused she was. Julie smiled at her cousin’s exasperation, then sobered. Until they knew what was going on, Julie would be in a knot of nerves.
“Listen, I’m going to turn in. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Patting Tolstoy on the head, she headed into the bed-and-breakfast, glad the owners were friends and let her keep her lead dog with her.
“Yep. Love you,” Saylor said.
“Love you too.” Julie would thank God every day for Saylor.
Walking in the back door of the inn, she stripped her mittens off in the sudden heat and tucked them into her pockets. If Mason’s back-up plan worked, the next few days would be full of preparations that she needed to focus on. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by her doubts and fears.
She shrugged out of her coat and hung it on an empty hook, exhaustion from her emotions making her arms feel like lead. She needed sleep and maybe a good amount of prayer if she expected to make it to launch day.
“Come on, Tolstoy.” She scratched behind her friend’s ear. “Let’s go turn in.”
Turning the corner to the bedrooms, she ran into a solid body with a grunt. Her hands splayed across a well-muscled chest as she tried to keep from falling over. How could her skin tingle under her layers of sweater and shirts where strong hands kept her upright?
“Sorry.” Her face heated at her clumsiness, and she tucked her head.
Could she escape to her room without making a complete fool of herself?
“Jules?” The hands tightened around her waist, stopping her retreat.
The voice she hadn’t heard for seven years, but that had tortured her in her dreams, whipped her head up. Dark, almost black eyes stared at her in shock. So, Gunnar Rebel was back in Alaska. Could his timing be any worse?