Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
It felt so good to be touched by him, my small fingers lost in his big, masculine ones. “See that girl over there? February Shaw?” I said, looking down at our intertwined hands. “The last thing she wanted was to be sent away to a wellness center to work on herself. She thought it was gonna be the worst experience of her life. Until one morning she woke up staring at a moose head. She realized this small town had a lot to offer, especially one Brock Hawkins, a man who, while grumpy on the outside, continues to warm her heart with the sweet things he does, not only for her, but for almost everyone he comes across. She’s never met anyone like him. She thinks he’s remarkable. And she really wishes she had more time with him, too.”
Our eyes locked, and I swore this was it: Brock was going to finally lean in and kiss me. I licked my lips in anticipation. But he never moved. He just let go of my hand. As much as I understood why he was holding back, I wished he’d give in a little…just for one night. Or even one moment.
I finally gave up, placing my hand on the car door to leave. “I’d better go inside.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “You’d better go while the coast is clear.”
“Thanks again for today.”
“My pleasure, Red.”
He stayed in his truck, watching me as I walked away.
I turned back toward the truck. “Hey...”
He rolled down his window. “What’s up?”
“Do you have a good deed on record today?”
He thought about it for a second. “Yeah.”
“What was it?”
After a long pause, he said, “This. Dropping you here instead of taking you back to my place and doing all the things I wanted to. You’ll thank me later.”
CHAPTER 7
* * *
Brock
“What’s going on, big brother?” Trevor swiveled one of the stools at the bar and hopped on the seat backward.
“How old are you that you still have to sit like that?”
“I’m more comfortable this way.”
“Do you do that when you take a date out to dinner at a nice restaurant?”
He winked. “My dates prefer to cook for me.”
“Probably because you have no manners and sit like that in public.”
Trevor lifted his chin. “I’ll take a Coors Light. Thanks for asking.”
I poured my pain-in-the-ass little brother a beer and filled a glass with seltzer for myself.
“So…” He sipped. “What’s going on with you and Miss Fancy Pants? I was surprised to see you two yesterday.”
I didn’t have to guess who he was talking about. “Nothing.”
He arched a brow. “Really? I can’t remember the last time I saw you walking around a carnival.”
“Just being hospitable. Showing a visitor around the area.”
Trevor chuckled. “Yeah, right. I seem to remember a tourist who stopped in a month or two ago and asked you for directions to those caves people like to visit nearby. You told him to buy a fucking map.”
“That guy had it coming. He also asked for a pumpkin beer with sugar on the rim.”
My brother smirked. “Also noticed you had the ingredients to make a certain fancy cocktail for Miss Fancy Pants the other night when we were playing cards. Even drove forty-five minutes to get stuffed olives.”
I said nothing because…what could I say? Trevor was right. I wouldn’t even make margaritas for people who tried to order them. And when douchey city folk came in and tried to order beer made of apples or pumpkins or some shit, I charged them double for Budweiser so they wouldn’t stay long. Yet I’d gotten up extra early this morning to take that long drive for olives again, just in case February came in anytime soon.
“I’m not judging.” Trevor smiled. “I’d drive for olives for a woman as hot as February. I’m just surprised you’re doing it.”
“You’re not the only one,” I grumbled.
“So what’s the deal with her? You hittin’ that?”
I pointed at him. “Watch it.”
“How would you like me to ask? Are you and Miss Fancy Pants making mad, passionate love?”
I rolled my eyes. “Christ, you’re annoying.”
Trevor laughed and drank his beer. “Seriously, though. She seems cool. There aren’t too many women around here who can play cards, hold their own with four Hawkins assholes drinking beer, and walk a state fair for hours in high-heel boots and a smile. I’m happy for you, bro.”
“There’s nothing to be happy for me about. February and I are just friends.”
“Why is that? She’s looked pretty into you the two times I’ve seen you together.”
“Because she lives in New York.”
“So?”
“Been there, done that. No thanks on going in for seconds.”
“You mean because of what happened between you and Nina?”
“Unlike you, when I make a mistake, I learn my lesson.”
“Did you talk to February about her long-term plans?”
“I don’t have to. She has a whole life in New York City. Born and raised there, owns her own company—just look at her. Does she look like she belongs here in Meadowbrook?”