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)
“Show me a spot?”
I can’t help but beam at him as I drag him toward the barn, where they have a child-size maze. I pull him through, thankful hardly any kids are here yet, and then climb into a little alcove made of hay. He pokes his head into my hiding spot and gives me a look. “I don’t know that I’ll fit.”
I wave him off. “It’s open here. You’ll fit.” I point up to where there is nothing above me, only the sounds of families and friends making memories. The smells of caramel and popcorn waft through the air, making my mouth water. But then it’s watering for a whole different reason when Dawson maneuvers his big body close to mine. He takes the backs of my calves and drapes my legs over his so that we both fit. Together, we lean on the hay, and I’m burning up from the inside out.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he says in a low voice.
“Like what?” I ask innocently.
“Like you want to leave this little hidey-hole looking like you just had a roll in the hay.”
I grin. “Maybe I do.”
He chuckles. “That is not a family-friendly activity.”
“You sure?”
“Uh, yeah. The things I want to do are not.”
I snort. “But in doing those activities, families are made.”
Now we’re both snorting with laughter. He leans in, and I hold my breath, thinking he’s finally gonna kiss me on the mouth, but instead, he kisses my cheek. “Behave.”
“I am.”
“Hardly,” he says, patting my leg. “This is a good spot. I found Harrison in here a few times.”
“That’s your youngest cousin?”
“Yeah. Well, no. Hadley is the baby of the family, but Harrison is my dude. When we come, I run with him.”
“How old is he?”
“I don’t know. Kid age?” Dawson laughs, and I love how freely he does it. “I feel like when kids are between the ages of eight and thirteen, you never know how old they are. I said Charlotte was nine for like six years.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Did all of you come here together, at the same time?”
He nods, pride in his hazel eyes. “Yeah, every year. Even when everyone was still in the NHL, our moms planned a day for all of us to do a pumpkin patch together. Sometimes it was in a different city—my favorite is this farm outside of the city in New Jersey. I can’t remember the name, but we had so much fun.”
“That’s so cool.”
“Yeah. We went to a lot in Florida, but it didn’t feel very fall when we’d get our pumpkin then head to the beach.”
“Ha! That doesn’t really work.” We laugh. “But you all were always together.”
“Always,” he confirms, and I don’t know if he knows, but his thumb is moving along my knee. “We have a day planned here the morning of the caramel apples, but I didn’t want to share you with them.”
My lips curve up. “So we’ll come again?”
He licks his lips, nodding. “Yeah.”
We share another smile, and when I lean in, he quickly kisses my cheek. “Stop trying to catch me in an improper situation, Ms. Mercer.”
I snort. “Okay, Debutante Dawson.”
His bark of laughter runs down my spine as we make our way out of my hidey-hole. When our feet hit the ground, he faces me, his face flushed and beautiful. He smiles widely, reaching to pull hay from my hair as he tsks. “Man, we should have tumbled since you look like you did.”
I jerk a thumb. “We can go back.”
Dawson snakes an arm around my waist, pulling me close, and I grin up at him. God, he makes me happy. “I kissed you for the first time on the quad in front of the whole school. The next time will be just for us.”
I sigh. “Fine. I’ll be patient.”
He winks. “I remember you saying you would never ask for my kiss.”
“I think we were both a little naïve at the beginning.”
His hand finds mine, pressing them into my back as he threads our fingers together. “We were, but look at us now.”
“I almost don’t believe it.”
He smirks. “I do.”
Gah, his confidence! This has to be the moment he kisses me. His eyes fall to my lips, and when he licks his, my heart kicks up. The October air is crisp and full of all kinds of fun flavors, but his is my favorite. That woodsy, spicy scent that has me begging to taste him. I arch into his touch, and his lips curve before he shakes his head. “Ambrosia…” He pauses. “What’s your middle name?”
I give him a look that says my middle name shouldn’t be a topic right now, but he holds me firmly, waiting. I relent. “Alegría.”
His dimples flash, obviously liking my name. “Alegría?”
“It means joy.”
His eyes soften as he brushes his nose with mine, “Ambrosia Alegría, are you a bit impatient?”