Porter spent the drive back into Eden’s Ridge castigating himself. Why had he opened his big, fat mouth? Why today of all days? Frustration simmered beneath his skin―with himself for pushing Maggie. With her for not being in a place where she could admit there was more between them than friendship. Maybe he was fooling himself believing that was true. Maybe it was exhaustion dimming his good judgment and intuition when it came to her. But there was no calling the words back, no undoing what he’d done.
He just wanted to go home and fall face-first into bed and forget about all of it for a few hours of oblivion. Was that too much to ask?
The ringing of his phone said it was. Seeing Mia’s name flash across the screen, he remembered her messages. Guilt prickled that he’d forgotten about them
