Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
I feel sick to my stomach. “Some people…just don’t want to fall in love.”
“Truer words,” he says, then smiles, pointing a thumb at his own heart. “Not this guy. I’m more than happy to be smitten.” His gaze drifts down the street to his wife, who’s walking toward him, looking disgustingly in love too. “Speaking of…”
“Go, go,” I say, shooing him along.
He joins her, and they head in the other direction. I stand in the middle of the sidewalk, trying to blink away the reminder of Rowan’s walls. I already knew that about him. He’s been abundantly honest with me from the start. Still, Jason’s assessment hurts more than it should.
There’s only one surefire way to move past it. Focus on work. I don’t need to be at the bakery for another fifteen minutes, so I swing into A Likely Story, plotting the blind dates, and texting my friends to see if they’ll help me prep everything the day of.
They all say yes—a reminder that they’ll be with me no matter what. I remind myself, too, that Rowan is like a vacation. You can still enjoy your time in Hawaii even if it’s going to end.
Rowan is my Hawaii. That is all.
Later that day, after the Sugar Plum Ladies win first place in storefront decorating—thank you very much—I’m back at the Love Shack, getting ready for my sleigh ride with Rowan.
I want to make the most of these last few nights.
By now, I’ve learned one important thing about fake-dates with Rowan: always wear a skirt.
40
NEIGH OF APPROVAL
ROWAN
She’s gorgeous. Simply spectacular. A blonde bombshell, endlessly tall, with sculpted legs. Impossible to look away from.
“This is Honey. Isn’t she a beaut?” asks the white-haired man with the barrel chest. Hank Lennox is his name.
“Stunning,” I say as I stare at the Belgian draft horse patiently waiting outside the barn.
The older man pats the horse’s haunches. “She’s seventeen hands high,” he says proudly.
“What does she weigh? About eighteen hundred pounds?”
He gives an approving smile. “Yes. How’d you do that?”
“Grew up near a horse farm. My sister rode all the time, so I got to know these beautiful beasts,” I say, then offer my palm to the horse. She licks a long line across it.
“Then, you should spend a little time with Honey after the ride. She’s very social.”
I look at Isla, who’s grinning.
“We’d love that. She’s majestic,” Isla says, then holds out her hand too. She gets a kiss as well. “Aww, I love her.”
“We all feel the same,” Hank says, then strokes Honey’s muzzle. “I’m gonna miss her the most when I retire someday. She sure enjoys her job and relishes being the only lady here at Silver Bells Sleigh Rides.”
I glance around at the big red barn with the sleigh parked in front of it. It looks like something from a painting—nestled in the snowy foothills at the edge of town. Towering evergreen trees hug the perimeter of the farm, dusted with snow. Dusk spreads across the entrance to the forest.
Hank sighs happily, then strokes the gorgeous creature’s mane once more. “Don’t you worry, Honey. Noah will take good care of you.”
I tilt my head as the sound of boots crunching through snow grows louder behind me. I’m guessing that’s Noah.
Hank nods at the sound. “That’s my grandson. He’ll be taking you out tonight. Helping an old man out,” he adds, lowering his voice. “He doesn’t say much. Don’t take it personally.”
Isla stares at the man approaching in a sheepskin jacket, boots, and a cowboy hat. His beard is thicker than mine. “Are you Doctor Lennox’s brother?” she asks. “You look just like him.”
“That’s how it works with identical twins,” the man in the cowboy hat says dryly, without moving a muscle in his face.
“Right. Sure,” she says, and damn, this broody dude makes me look like a charmer.
“Anyhoo,” Hank cuts in, clapping his grandson—taller than him—on the shoulder. “We’ve got you booked for a romantic sleigh ride through the hills. We’ve got a blanket and some Christmas music, and I promise it’s going to be…magical. How about a picture?”
I remember Everly’s comment after the game last night. I’ll be dead to her if I don’t get a snap. “Let’s do it,” I say, and Isla nods.
We pose for a few pics on and off the sleigh, with Hank saying, “Fantastic, this one’s great, so terrific” after each shot.
When he’s done, he makes a show of emailing them to me, then nods to his grandson. “They’re all yours.”
Noah turns to us, a scowl underneath that beard. “No funny business on the sleigh.”
I straighten my spine. “Copy that.”
I wasn’t planning on any funny business. At least, not yet.
The sleigh is shaped like a black swan with elegant curves and gleaming wood. Noah hops into the driver’s seat, tips his cowboy hat lower, then pats Honey’s haunches. “Good girl,” he says, and it’s clear he saves his affection for the animals.