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)
“Absolutely. Go slow at first until you get your bearings.”
Once settled on the seat, I direct him to start the engine, and then I’m the one holding on to him from behind. The warmth I feel radiating through my body from the simple act of being close to Dawson is silly. I must be romanticizing things again. Or just happy I get to experience this with someone, even if it’s pretend.
He’s shaky at first as we navigate toward the familiar path but gains confidence by the time the house comes into view. “Promise I can do that again before the week is over,” he says once we park.
“Definitely.”
We hightail it inside to get warm and change out of our heavy snow gear. About an hour later, we’re in my car and heading to town. He noticed the shops on Main Street on our way into Bright’s Hollow, but I can feel the excitement rolling off him as I find a place to park. We walk for a bit, checking out storefronts and decorations, Dawson acting like a kid in a Hallmark candy shop.
“Do you mind if we stop in there?” he asks, eyeing Giving Grace, the gift shop owned by Mrs. Grace since before I was born.
I follow him inside, and when the bell above the door jangles, she and her counter staff greet us warmly. Some strands of her brown hair are starting to gray, but other than that she seems unchanged, still wearing her characteristic flowy tops and skirts. “You get over here and give me a hug.”
As I step into the embrace, her perfume assaults my nostrils. I’ve never been a big fan of the spicy, earthy scent of patchouli, but there are worse smells, and besides, it reminds me of home.
She eyes Dawson. “I think some introductions are in order.”
“This is my boyfriend, Dawson.” The lie rolls more easily off my tongue this time.
“Pleased to meet you.” Dawson plays the part by stepping up and affectionately throwing an arm around my shoulders. The weight of it both grounds me and sends my stomach into a tailspin of butterflies. The reaction confuses me, and I consider stepping away, but I also like it too much, even if we’re just playacting.
Dawson must read something in my expression because this time he’s quick to unwrap his arm, even though I want to protest. He casts his gaze around, taking in the advent calendars and Santa signage on the walls. “I love your shop.”
“Thank you.” She winks at us. “Feel free to have a look around.”
As he browses the shelves that display everything from handmade soap to mountain-view postcards, Mrs. Grace and I make small talk near the door. “He’s very handsome. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.” Feeling uncomfortable, I change the topic to a family I recognize walking by with bags in their hands. By the time she’s finished filling me in on town gossip, Dawson’s already rung at the counter whatever he’s purchased.
“We’ll head out,” I say to Mrs. Grace.
She pats my shoulder. “See you two at the tree lighting?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dawson replies, and I know he means it. And who am I to keep him from experiencing everything in his small-town fantasy?
I glance at my watch, noting it’s already lunchtime. There’s a reason I don’t come into town too often. With all the visiting, I hardly get anything done.
Dawson has his phone out again, snapping photos of the decorated shops, and with the snowy backdrop, they would no doubt make nice postcards for Mrs. Grace’s shelf.
“Mind if we take a selfie?” he asks, and no way I’ll refuse. I wind my arm around his back, and the grin that splits his lips is infectious. I realize then that my cheeks hurt from smiling so much this trip, and it’s all due to Dawson.
“How about lunch at the diner?” I suggest.
He arches a brow. “Depends. You promised me some famous blueberry pie.”
I snicker. “Coming right up.”
8
DAWSON
The diner is only three doors down from Giving Grace. The sidewalks are full of people, everyone waving and saying hi as we pass in a way that never happens in the city.
When we get to the diner, Briar holds the door open for me. “Such a gentleman,” I tease.
“You came all the way out here with me, I figure I should treat you right.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be your boyfriend if you didn’t.” I wink, and he gives me an unsure smile. I’m enjoying spending time with him, getting to know Briar even more than I already had when he’d come into Sip and Savor to see me. Okay, I guess I should reword that. He wasn’t coming in to see me, I just wanted him to. Just like a part of me wishes that erection I felt digging into my back this morning had been about more than morning wood.