Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 30544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 153(@200wpm)___ 122(@250wpm)___ 102(@300wpm)
I can’t keep my gaze from roaming over the front of him, from his broad chest with a smattering of hair that trails down to his waistband, then lower to where his stiff cock is tenting his pajama pants. Well, damn. My cheeks heat. I meant it when I said Dawson is gorgeous, but this tingling in my groin is another sort of feeling I recognize all too well. I’m definitely attracted to him. And not only his enticing body and sculpted face. His personality as well. I love how mellow he’s being about this trip, how effortlessly he laughs and puts me at ease, and I really hope we can remain friends after this, and hang out outside work hours.
“You first?” he nudges.
“Sure.” I scramble off the bed as gracefully as I can and practically sprint to the bathroom when I feel his gaze on me. Using his logic, it’s only natural to check each other out, right?
Once we’re done washing up in the bathroom, we sit side by side on the bed and discuss the day’s schedule of activities. More snow had fallen overnight, and as a kid, it always reminded me of a pristine, white blanket first thing in the morning.
“How about we take out the snowmobiles after breakfast?”
“Sounds great. I’ve never ridden one before.”
I like the idea of me showing him for his first time. “Then you’re in for a treat.”
We head down for breakfast, and I kiss Mom on the cheek on the way to retrieving our dishes from the cupboard. Dad has already gone to the farm, and Mom will follow suit in a couple of hours.
“What are you boys up to today?” Mom asks as she sets a plate of scrambled eggs in front of us.
I reach for a slice of toast. “Snowmobile ride first.”
“Oh shoot.” Mom winces. “Sorry to wreck your plans, but Dad took one of them to work this morning.”
“No worries, we’ll make do.” I send Dawson a reassuring smile.
When we’re finished eating, Dawson helps load the dishwasher while I clean the frying pan. Then we head to the mudroom to get suited up for the cold. Dawson pulls down his knit cap, zips his coat, then follows me out the door to the snowmobile.
“It’s a two-seater, so you’ll have to ride on back.” Doubt creeps in. “Or we can wait until both are available.”
“I don’t mind,” Dawson says easily. I nod and start the engine. Once I’m seated, he hops on behind me. “Maybe it’s better this way my first time.”
“Maybe,” I force out because it’s hard to concentrate with him sliding his hands around my waist. His breath is on my neck, and the last time I’ve been in this position with a guy I liked was Mark in high school. Shaking that thought away, I rev the engine. “Hang on.”
“Holy shit!” He grips me tighter as I take off across the field with increasing speed. I let out a whoop because that first rush is always invigorating, and I feel him huff a laugh against my skin.
The path I follow is one I know like the back of my hand, could probably do it with my eyes shut. I head through the pine forest and all the way back to the saplings planted just last year. Beyond that is the pumpkin patch picked over from the autumn harvest and young apple trees that have yet to bear fruit. I make a mental note to ask Dad about it.
“This is great!” Dawson shouts into the wind as the cold bites my cheeks. I notice that his grip on me has loosened the more comfortable he’s become.
Near the foothills of the mountains, I slow down, coming to a stop. We catch our breath and shake out our legs before Dawson pulls his phone from his pocket and snaps photos of the picturesque backdrop. I follow Sip and Savor on social media, where he mostly posts daily specials, but now I wonder if he has a personal page.
“I can’t believe how beautiful it is here—and exhilarating.”
I grin at his genuine enthusiasm. It’s so refreshing. “Yeah, suppose it is.”
“I’m determined to help you remember.” He slides his phone back in his pocket. “So what now?”
“Ride back and then head into town for lunch?”
“Sounds great.” Guilt crosses his features. “You sure you don’t have to help at Blooming Acres? I can always—”
“Maybe later when it’s busier. Mom will be there too, getting ready for the fair.”
“It sounds like a lot. I’d be happy to pitch in again.”
“It’s only a table and tent where we sell mostly the pine cone wreaths Mom makes and holiday trinkets. We can definitely help load boxes and set up shop the day of.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Of course you do,” I tease. “Want to drive back?”
“Yeah?” A big smile breaks over his face. “If you’re sure.”