Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97382 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
I really don’t like the smug look that Ella Mae gave me when she handed over Dawson’s and my Caramel Apple Celly Lattes.
It was too intrusive.
Too knowing.
Almost excited, which seems silly.
Why would anyone be excited for this? By going out with Dawson, I am taking the most sought-after guy on campus off the market. I am publicly making a claim on him. Won’t women hate me? Ella didn’t. She just grinned, her brows waggling when I took my latte from Dawson, who had grabbed them first. Almost like he was testing the cups to make sure they weren’t too hot before handing mine to me. Then, like there was no one else in the room, he took my hand in his other one and hasn’t let go.
Not one damn person looked at us.
And it felt…real.
So real that every few seconds, I found myself looking over at him in his dark blue Camaro to make sure he is really driving me to a pumpkin patch. He is, his dimples shining as he sips on his coffee and drives us onto the interstate. The trip is quicker than I remember, but the conversation is flowing easily. He asks what I did this morning—breakfast, a light workout, and editing the episode of Vaughn and Brie Johansson that I usually would have done before recording my next, but I was working with Jayden and Baylor’s schedule.
“What was your favorite part of their show?”
I smile dreamily. “Did you know that Vaughn sponsored a whole housing development just for special-needs adults?”
Dawson smiles proudly, and I feel it deep in my gut. “Yeah. I volunteer there a lot.”
Of course he does.
Because the universe loves to make me swoon for this man.
Damn it.
“Have you been out there?” When I shake my head, he nods. “We’ll actually pass it on the way to the pumpkin patch. I’ll point it out.”
He does, and I want to go back to explore, but that seems a little insensitive. It isn’t a place to explore; it’s someone’s home. I already asked Vaughn for the information to volunteer, and he sent it right away. Now I wonder if maybe Dawson would volunteer with me.
Ugh, this guy.
I didn’t wear panties to bed last night because I knew I would be getting myself off to the memory of how close his mouth was to mine. How his large body crowded me as he gripped the counter, which made his arms look all flexed and sexy. How good he smelled as he grinned down at me with those dimples winking at me.
Three times. I got myself off three times just from thinking about him.
I can’t help but wonder if he’s doing the same.
Soon, my thoughts wander to stripping him out of his dark wash jeans and brown knitted sweater. When he showed up to pick me up, he was freshly showered and he had shaved. His strong jaw looks so smooth, I want to run not only my fingers along it but my tongue too. His lips are plump and curved up in his easy smile as he parks in the first spot he sees at Gentry Farms.
“This okay?” I nod as we get out, our drinks in hand. He comes around the car to take my hand, and I smile up at him. “I like to give the families the front parking spaces. It’s what my dad always does.”
Remember how I told you about the wall I’d built around myself, and how he just keeps taking it down, brick by brick? Well, with that statement, he knocks down eight of them.
How does someone with such a shitty reputation with women turn out to be such a great guy?
I sigh as we head into fall fun. The air is crisp, a bit chilly, but the sun is warm on our faces. I’m thankful for the choice of brown tights to keep my legs warm, but I wish I hadn’t worn the long-sleeved shirt under my ruffled green overall dress. I worry I’ll start sweating, but hopefully I’ll be okay.
“Have you been here?”
Dawson’s question pulls me from my internal thoughts. “Yeah, all the time. We used to come every year when I was younger.”
He nods. “Me too. Maybe we were here at the same time.”
I grin. I am starting to dislike the word maybe. “Maybe,” I draw out. “But you wouldn’t have seen me.”
He raises a brow. “No?”
“Nope. I hid the whole time.”
He scoffs. “Why?”
“It was a game with Tía. I would hide, and she’d have to find me. If she didn’t, I got a huge bag of caramel popcorn.”
He laughs. “So you didn’t enjoy yourself?”
“I did…hiding,” I say with a laugh. “But then my dad would find me, and we’d enjoy our day.” I can still hear my dad’s “Got you!” before he’d pull me out of wherever I was hiding.