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)
When I drop my head against his shoulder, Briar sucks in a breath, then wraps his arm around me.
Everything feels perfect.
Magical.
9
BRIAR
The week before Christmas in our small town is a whirlwind of holiday activities on steroids. But surprisingly, I’m enjoying it as much as Dawson. Seeing it through his eyes is making me feel like that hopeful kid again. And last night at the tree lighting it felt so real between us. But also scary because it seems like the lines are blurring, at least on my end.
Plus, I can’t stop thinking about what he said to Wilson at Hattie’s. Was it a true confession that he was drawn to me from the beginning at Sip and Savor, or was he only playing the part? Either way, I liked how that made me feel, and him acting all protective of me only added to the intensity. Not that I needed saving from the townsfolk, but it was tiring hearing similar comments from people equally surprised to see I’d brought someone home.
Christ, relationships aren’t the end all be all. But I sure have acted like they are, haven’t I? Dawson’s right that I’ve made a good life for myself regardless. I don’t need a boyfriend. I just wanted someone to spend my time with. But all the men I’ve dated over the years didn’t feel the same about me, so it’s better to be alone until a good one comes along. Or the right one. Someone like Dawson, who is the epitome of what a good boyfriend would look like. Kind, affectionate, considerate, fun. And of course, hot.
I watch as he and my mom laugh over something our seasonal worker, Connie, said as he helps her straighten the tablecloth with Blooming Acres embroidered across it. He fit right in, helping pack the boxes and assisting me with the tent when we got to our assigned spot on Main Street.
It’s late morning by the time we’re set up, and the fair will last all afternoon. Dad will stop by on one of his breaks, but this event has always been Mom’s forte. She loves crafting the wreaths, table runners, and ordering unique holiday trinkets we sell at the farm store and at the fair.
“How about a quick walk through before it gets busy?” I ask Dawson because he seems very interested in what the other booths are selling.
“You two go ahead. Connie and I will hold down the fort,” Mom says, shooing us away.
We head to the center of the street so we can check out the displays on either side of us. We wave to Grace with her ornaments and Hattie with her pie stand and then stop at a booth with framed watercolors. I smile at the guy I went to high school with who won too many local drawing contests to count. The scenes depicted are mostly of nature, but I recognize key points of interest of our small town as well.
“You’re very talented,” Dawson tells Craig, who murmurs a thank-you. Dawson zeroes in on the smaller framed paintings of Bright’s Hollow—one of the town’s Christmas tree and another of the mountains—while I spend time checking out Craig’s dreamy portrayal of various birds.
When a foursome of women steps inside the tent, it feels crowded, and I realize that the fair has already started. “Time to go.”
We head back through the throng, and as Dawson steps around a family, he grabs my hand to pull me along, then…doesn’t let go. And neither do I, even when a path clears for us to walk with more breathing room. I like how his hand feels in mine, how strong his grip is, and I don’t want to let go. It feels wholly confusing, and after several sidelong glances his way, I’m hoping to get some clarity. “What are we doing?” I blurt.
His eyebrows pull together before he glances at our hands. “You mean this? Showing the town you’re taken.”
I stop abruptly and twist to face him. “After hearing all the same comments in the diner, and you coming to my defense, I realized I don’t need to prove anything to these people.”
“You’re right, you don’t.” He lets go of my hand. “I was just trying to stick to what we agreed.”
I sigh. “I know, and the truth is, I like holding hands and the idea of having a boyfriend. I’d hoped to curb the gossip by bringing you, but instead, I think we created more.”
“Spot on.” He chuckles, relief crossing his features. “And it’s nice to have someone in your corner, someone to do things with. It’s been a long time for me.”
“Besides what you already told me, is there any other reason?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, it’s just never been right.”
“Oh, I know all about that, don’t I?”
“Unfortunately, you do.” He winces. “Don’t worry, I’ll tone it down.”