Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Been a lot of buzz around town about some famous author from here moving back.”
Chuckling, she tucks a strand of hair behind one ear and takes the smallest step closer. “I wouldn’t call myself famous, but I guess it makes the gossip juicier, doesn’t it?”
“Why’d you move back?”
“Story for another day.” She flattens her full lips, effectively sealing them.
“Ever owned an acreage before?”
She fights a smile. “Nope. I’m an acreage-owning virgin.”
I chuff at the image of this five-foot-nothing blonde driving a mowing tractor. It’s even funnier picturing her attaching a snow blade to the front of it to plow herself out in the wintertime. And I bet she’s never had to set a mousetrap or deal with a corn snake a day in her life.
“Why’d you come back?” I ask.
“You already asked that.”
“I know. But maybe I don’t want to wait for another day to hear the story.” I want to know if there’s a chance this was some decision made on a whim. If it was, she might be willing to sell the place to me at some point.
“Wanted to be closer to family,” she says, “and needed a change of scenery. It’s been a rough year, and it’s been hard to write.”
“So buying a farm seemed like the logical solution to that?”
She chuckles, her nose crinkling and her cheeks turning pink. “Yes, Hunter. It did seem like the logical solution to that. And I hope it is. I’ve only been here since Friday, and I’m already feeling . . . inspired.”
Her gaze drips up and down the length of me, though I’m unsure if she realizes she’s doing it. Our eyes lock. A stretch of silence rests between us. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she’s stuck in a daydream right here, right now . . . about me.
I clear my throat and force myself to break both the silence and the eye contact. “Well, if you decide country living’s not what you thought it’d be, let me know. I’d be happy to take that place off your hands. Just name your price.”
“I appreciate the offer, but we’re not going anywhere.” The charm in her voice is now replaced with a polite amount of grit that somehow infuriates me and turns me on.
“Just saying, if your circumstances change, you’ve got a buyer.”
“They won’t,” she says with an impressive amount of self-assuredness. “I’ve had wings for the last twenty years. This time I’m planting roots.” Her eyes soften, but there’s a hardness in her voice that piques my curiosity more than I’d like, and her lips flutter as if she’s got something else on her mind but hasn’t mussed up the courage to say it. “Anyway, I just wanted to introduce myself since we’re neighbors. You keep looking at the clock, so I’m sure you have somewhere to be.”
I hadn’t realized I’d looked at the clock once since she got here. If I did, I’ve no recollection of doing so. I’ve been too busy staring at her, which ironically seemed to make time stand still.
I adjust my hat and massage the back of my neck. “Yeah, I’ve got a part to pick up before I head back out to the field. Appreciate the cookies. You didn’t have to do that.”
Her shoulders relax ever so slightly, and she peers up at me in a way that makes me temporarily weak in the knees.
For the love of god, what is going on with me?
“So you live alone up here? On this big hill? In this massive house?” She scans the surroundings of my lodge-style house one more time, taking in the sweeping ceilings, twenty-foot windows, and abundance of stone and rough-hewn beams.
“I do.”
“Do you ever get lonely? All this space and no one to share it with?”
“Never,” I answer without hesitation, though for some unknown reason my answer somehow feels like a lie. “Too busy working to be lonely.”
She scrutinizes me with a tiny smirk on her pink lips. “If you say so.”
There’s something about her energy—soft but not fragile. Warm but not desperate. Friendly but not imposing. I’m drawn to her in a way I’ve not been drawn to anyone in a long time. I’m sure the feeling will pass as these things do.
Lust is one hell of a drug.
“Your kid adjusting okay to the move?” I ask as I walk her to the door. I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s none of my business and I definitely shouldn’t care. But picturing a little boy living in that house brings me back . . .
She nods, slipping back into her fancy shoes. “Better than I expected. I think this place is exactly what he needed. So much for him to do. I can hardly keep up with him half the time . . .”
“Just be careful with that river,” I say. “The current’s stronger than it looks sometimes.”