Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
“I’d rather spend the rest of my life copying down 66-digit serials in triplicate than marry Jimothy,” I say.
He laughs, as does his customer. It’s become a running joke that Jimothy Farvel wants to marry me and that I am refusing to do so. It doesn’t help that Jimothy is a catch by colony standards. It’s making me very unpopular in certain circles to keep rejecting him.
It’s a warm day, and getting warmer. Jimothy is in the wood-cutting competition. He’s shirtless and glistening, and surrounded by a crowd. I glance over at him on my way to the food tents. He catches my eye and swings the axe even harder, prompting shouts and hollers from the crowd.
I manage to get two jam sweet rolls topped with icing, along with two lemonades. I carry them both back to our stall, where my father is immersed in a conversation about rotary tilling.
I set his beverage and lunch down near him, and eat mine with great enjoyment. There is sun beating down, but we have conditioning in the shade, throngs of people are milling happily through the stalls, and I have a sense of contentment that feels hard won.
I am just finishing my lemonade when a handsome stranger approaches our stall. He’s taller than most, and he has a blue-ish tint to his otherwise dark hair. I feel a crackle of electricity as I look up at him. It’s the kind of feeling I should have when looking at Jimothy.
I glance over at my father, but he hasn’t noticed the new guy. He’s too busy talking to Mr. Thompson and his son Garret about corrosion on breaks.
“Anything you need today, sir?” I ask the question in a weird and stilted way because I am being suffused with a certain type of feeling that I rarely get when it comes to men.
This man is gorgeous. His lashes are dark, his eyes are blue. He is wearing thick blue jeans and work boots and a collared shirt that has just enough dirt on it to show that he’s been working and not enough to make him look neglectful of his hygiene.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” I say. “Are you from down the valley? We’ve been getting more visitors from that way lately now that there’s so much trade happening. The port’s always busy.”
“I’m from down South,” he says, his voice taking on a smooth drawl.
He’s familiar, somehow. I feel as though I’ve met him before, but he’s definitely a stranger. If a man like this were around the colony, there would be a lot of chatter around the place. The girls would know about him, and they’d know if he was single or married. There’s no ring on his finger, I notice.
“Could you show me the display machine?” He asks the question while I’m busy trying to silently inventory him.
“Sure,” I say. “It’s parked a little ways away from the main stall because of traffic restrictions, but if you’ll follow me…”
I lead him to the edge of the market, where the display tractor is standing. When we first unveiled it, it was absolutely thronged, but the draft horses are now working on the other far side and most have lost interest in this for the moment.
“What are you looking for, exactly?” I ask the handsome stranger.
The market is still going on, but it feels as though it is at a greater distance than I remember. The world seems to wrap around him, make him the center of my attention.
“I’m looking for you, actually,” he replies with a sexy wink.
I blush and giggle. “Thank you,” I say. “But I’m not authorized to give discounts.”
“I don’t want a discount,” he says, looping a strong arm lightly around my waist and drawing me behind the tractor so we are further hidden from view. “I want you.”
“Oh, my,” I gasp.
I am wearing a dress today. He slides his hand up my thigh and under my dress with a casual ownership that is as hot as it is infuriating. That bold move brings me back to my senses.
I slap his face as hard as I can, pulling down my hem at the same time. “I am not that kind of woman!” I declare, taking several steps backward.
He chuckles and seems unbothered by my strong rebuff.
“I know you’re not,” he says. “You’re mine. You’ve saved yourself for me all these weeks, even though you’ve been propositioned half a dozen times by at least three of these local lads.”
Saved myself for him? He sounds insane. There’s a lot of that going on at the moment. A lot of people lost their minds in the big dry. Things are starting to improve now, but I reckon with enough hardship you don’t ever come truly right the same way you once were. This guy is young and handsome, but that means he was probably caught in the worst of it. Like I was, I guess. I wonder again how I don’t know him. Maybe he’s from off planet.