My Three Way Florida Escape by Tessa Kelwyn
My Three Way Florida Escape
Description
What if the worst moment of your life stranded you in a cabin with three men who look at you like you're something they could claim-and for the first time, you don't want to run? After a betrayal that costs her everything, Kelly escapes into a storm with nothing but secrets and a future she's not ready to face. A crash leaves her trapped in the middle of nowhere with three rugged strangers-older, intense, impossible to ignore-and suddenly survival isn't the only thing at stake. Forced into close quarters, surrounded by heat, tension, and watchful eyes that miss nothing, Kelly finds herself unraveling in ways she never allowed before... especially when every glance feels like a choice she's not supposed to make. But some desires don't come one at a time-and neither do these men. Each of them pulls something different from her: control, curiosity, hunger. Together? Something far more dangerous. As lines blur and jealousy sparks beneath the surface, Kelly is caught between the life she's hiding from and the one unfolding around her-one where she isn't asked to choose, only to feel. Yet secrets don't stay buried forever, and when her past collides with the fragile world inside the cabin, she'll have to decide: walk away before it consumes her... or risk everything for a connection that was never meant to exist.
Chapter 1
Apr 2, 2026
Kelly's POV
Running away loses its glamour when you're running toward Florida in June and every weather app is screaming warnings you ignored because emotional devastation makes you stupid.
My knuckles are white against the steering wheel. Rain hammers the windshield like the sky has a personal vendetta, and the wipers are losing the battle.
"Come on, come on, come on," I mutter, leaning forward as if two extra inches will help me see through the wall of water.
I should have stopped two hours ago. I should have done a lot of things differently.
But here's the thing about catching your fiancé with his hand on another woman: time doesn't slow down the way movies promise. It speeds up.
One second I'm standing in Mason's doorway with a positive pregnancy test still warm in my pocket and a speech rehearsed about how scared I am but how maybe this could be good, and the next I'm watching Brittany's lipstick smear across his jaw.
I was stupid enough to blurt it out right there on the threshold: "I'm pregnant."
"God, Kelly, you absolute idiot," I whisper to my reflection in the rearview mirror. Even now, weeks later, I can hear how pathetically hopeful my voice sounded.
Three syllables. That's all it took to seal my fate.
I watched Mason's expression shift from irritation to calculation in under two seconds. He did the math fast: if I'm pregnant and he's the cheating ex, he loses everything.
His position at my family's company. His access to the Goodwin fortune he'd spent years positioning himself to inherit.
So he struck first, and he struck hard.
The headlines came within forty-eight hours: "Kelly Goodwin tried to babytrap me."
"Shit!" The car hydroplanes for a terrifying second before the tires grip again. I exhale hard through my nose. "Get it together, Kelly. Dying in a ditch is not the revenge arc we planned."
And my father—Edward Goodwin, the man who spent thirty years wishing I'd been born with different chromosomes—looked at the man who betrayed me and saw a safer bet than the child he raised.
I was removed as CEO of the company my grandfather built with his own hands.
Mason became interim CEO until my younger brother "comes to his senses" and returns from whatever European country he's pretending to find himself in.
"Interim," I spit the word like it's poison. "Interim my ass."
The GPS announces I'm fifteen minutes from my destination. Relief floods through me—three months of isolation in a remote cabin rented under my assistant's name.
The pregnancy is seven weeks along. I don't know what I want yet.
Keep it. Don't keep it. Raise it alone. Disappear entirely and become the kind of woman who makes pottery in a small coastal town and tells no one about her past.
Every option feels like a trap with teeth, and I'm already bleeding from the last one I stumbled into.
The only certainty burning in my chest is this: Mason will never come anywhere near my baby.
If I decide to keep it.
The road curves sharply, and the rain chooses this exact moment to upgrade from aggressive to biblical.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me—"
My tires lose traction.
The car spins. The world tilts. Metal screams against something solid, my body jerks against the seatbelt, and everything goes dark.
I wake to knocking—loud, insistent, urgent.
A man's face appears through the rain-streaked window: steel-gray eyes, dark hair plastered to his forehead, jaw tight with concern.
He's shouting words I can't hear through the glass.
When my fumbling fingers finally find the lock, he yanks the door open and leans in, rainwater dripping from his face onto my arm.
"Are you hurt?" His voice is deep, cutting through the fog in my head. "Can you move? Look at me—are you injured?"
"No." I blink, forcing my vision to focus. "No injuries, I think."
He studies my face like he doesn't believe me, gaze sweeping over my forehead, my neck, my shoulders. His hand hovers near my arm but doesn't touch.
"Any dizziness? Nausea? Did you black out before or after impact?"
"After." I swallow hard. "Just for a minute, I think."
"Can you stand?"
He offers his hand. I take it—warm, calloused, steady—and pull myself out of the car. The moment I'm vertical, the world tilts sideways. I grab his arm to keep from falling.
"Easy." His grip tightens, holding me upright. "Have you been drinking?"
The question offends me so deeply that my spine straightens of its own accord. "Excuse me? I'm not that irresponsible, and if you knew anything about me—" I stop myself. Clamp my mouth shut.
What am I doing? I owe this stranger no explanations.
He watches me, one eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for the rest of the sentence.
"Forget it," I mutter. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. Your car's half in a ditch." He gestures toward my rental, and I finally see the damage: front end crumpled against a tree, back wheels suspended uselessly over mud. "It's nearly dark. The rain's getting worse. Nearest tow won't come until morning."
"What exactly are you suggesting?" I raise an eyebrow.
"My cabin is ten minutes from here. You can wait out the storm there." He pauses, reading the suspicion on my face. "I'm not a serial killer. Just a guy who happened to be driving back from town when I saw your headlights spin."
"That's exactly what a serial killer would say."
"Fair point." His mouth twitches. "But your other option is spending the night in a wrecked car in a Florida thunderstorm, so I'd say your odds are better with me."
I hate that he's right. I hate that my options have narrowed to trust a stranger or drown in my own rental. My hand drifts to my stomach involuntarily.
You're exhausted. You're pregnant. You're stranded. Make a decision.
"Fine," I say. "But if you murder me, I will haunt you forever."
"Noted."
He moves to the trunk without another word and extracts my two Louis Vuitton suitcases, loading them into the back of his truck.
If he has opinions about the designer luggage, he keeps them to himself.
The drive is tense, rain pounding the roof like fists. His truck smells like coffee and pine, and the heater blasts warm air against my soaked clothes. I shiver anyway.
"I'm Jake." He doesn't look at me, eyes fixed on the road. "Jake Sanders. I'm here for fishing."
"Kelly." I hesitate. Through the rain-streaked window, a bird darts past—a flash of dark wings against the gray. "Kelly Bird. I'm a tourist. Just passing through."
"Bird?" Now he glances at me, skepticism written across his features. "That your real name?"
"Is Sanders yours?"
"Touché." He returns his attention to the road, but I catch the ghost of a smile. "Well, Kelly Bird, tourist extraordinaire, you picked a hell of a time to pass through. Storm's supposed to last for days."
"My timing has always been impeccable."
"I can tell."
The truck stops. Through the rain, I see the cabin: warm light glowing from within, smoke curling from the chimney, shadows moving behind curtained windows. My heart stutters.
Shadows. Plural.
Jake cuts the engine and turns to face me.
"My buddies are inside. They don't bite." He pauses, something unreadable flickering in those steel-gray eyes. "Unless you ask nicely."
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My Three Way Florida Escape
30 Chapters
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