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)
We turn up the music and fall into a comfortable silence until about an hour into our trip, when we stop for food at a drive-thru restaurant. I can feel Dawson’s breath against my cheek as he leans toward me to see the board. My heart gallops from the proximity. “I’m taking a number eight with a Coke,” I tell him.
He grins and settles back in his seat. “I’ll have the same.”
Once we get our lunch, I pull into an empty spot so we can down our food and then get back on the road.
“So…will any more guests be arriving for the holidays?” He averts his eyes. “Will I be sharing a room with your long-lost aunt Patty?”
I laugh. “No, it’s usually just us. And that always feels nice after the flurry of activities at the farm and around town.”
“That sounds awesome.” He sips his drink, then clears his throat. “Suppose what I was getting at is…will we be sleeping in the same room?”
My gaze springs to his. “Oh shit, I forgot about that.”
Christ, how long has Dawson been ruminating about the accommodations? It’s an important question, and I completely dropped the ball. What else haven’t I considered about this trip?
“My parents would definitely expect us to share a room, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so we can come up with some excuse for you to—”
“No, it’s okay. We’ll make it work.” His fingers white-knuckle the cup. “Besides, how would it look if we didn’t want to sleep together?”
“You’re right. I’m sorry I didn’t think this through. We’ll figure something out.” I can sleep on the floor, and my parents would be none the wiser.
“It’s all good. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
“Okay, cool.” That same guilt makes my chest feel heavy. I hope he doesn’t feel like he has to live up to any expectations. “You don’t have to try and prove anything to my parents, by the way. Just be yourself.”
“You mean be Nathan?” He smirks. “I’m kidding. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I can use my own name, so that worked in my favor. But I expected you to at least brag a little about how successful your new guy is or how you met. Why didn’t you tell them anything about him?”
“Maybe because I knew how it would end. I didn’t want my parents to ask too many questions after we went our separate ways.” I wince. “Suppose I manifested that shit. Nathan dumped me right on schedule. Though I would’ve preferred after the holiday.”
“Would you, though?” He crumples his wrapper. “Knowing how it would end, as you say, or about your parents’ expectations?”
“Suppose that might’ve made it worse.” I frown. “But at least I’d have had someone to accompany me home.”
“Well, now you have me.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, when it’s actually pretty huge. “Which reminds me. They have no clue what this boyfriend looks like either?”
“Nope. Like I said, limited details.” Come to think of it, Nathan and I never took one photo together. I wonder what that says about our short dating stint. But now I’m glad we didn’t. When Mom pressed, the only thing I said was that he’s handsome, which didn’t satisfy her at all. “Damn, I’m not very good at this, am I? It was my convoluted idea to begin with, but I’m woefully unprepared. I never considered…well, all sorts of things, apparently.”
“Obviously neither did I until right this minute.” He cracks a smile. “Suppose we’re lucky you didn’t share a lot with your parents or let anything slip. Cutting my hair in the next rest-area bathroom to match Nathan’s hairstyle would’ve been a hard limit for this fake-boyfriend thing.”
I gulp at the word boyfriend. It makes my stomach tingle, mostly the idea of still having one and bringing him home to my parents. Maybe I’m the one who belongs in a Hallmark movie.
“Right again. I wouldn’t want to touch your hair.” I glance at the soft strands escaping his knit beanie. “I like it.”
“Do you?” He pats his hat self-consciously. “I figured you’d be more into the close-cropped cuts, like yours and my brother’s.”
I shrug. “I don’t exactly have a type when it comes to looks.”
“Only personalities?” he teases.
“Yep—overly confident jerks who don’t consider my feelings.” I bury my face in my hands. “God, how pathetic.”
“Hey, don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have our pasts, and exes are exes for a reason.” He grips my shoulder. “But maybe it’s time to flip the script.”
“What do you mean?”
“Date someone the opposite of your type and see what happens.”
The idea of putting myself out there again curdles my stomach. “Think I’m done with dating for the moment, but I’ll take your suggestion under advisement.”
Once we’re back on the road, I tell Dawson more about my town and my family’s farm.