Paige le Mont

The moment Sela's past arrives:

The doorbell rang.

With Finn padding behind her, no doubt seeking an outdoor adventure, Sela hurried to answer the door. “What’d they forget? Gotta be organized in college.” Blocking the cat with her foot, she opened the door to a man leaning against the architectural stone veneer, his legs crossed at the ankles.

“Oh.” Dammit. Should’ve peeked through the peephole. No clipboard, logoed clothing, or fliers. Scowling, she exhaled an annoyed breath. “Not interested.” She moved to close the door, but the way he shifted his weight and silently regarded her made her pause. Her heart trotted. Weird. She squinted, giving him a once-over. Wavy, mahogany-brown hair fell across his forehead. A close-clipped beard marched down his diamond-cut jaw and expanded into a goatee. Mmmm. Handsome.

Sunglasses rested on his straight nose. He removed them in a calculated, practiced move, revealing striking gray eyes.

No. Her breath whooshed out as if she’d been punched. Fucking hell. She slammed the door, pressing her back against the wood. Aksel? Ragged breathing rattled her lungs. Aksel’s dead. Her thoughts scattered like startled blackbirds. So … a doppelganger? She slumped to the floor. Cryogenics? She covered her mouth. It’s the space-time continuum. What? He’s Aksel’s son. Her lungs seized.