“That and…” I trail off, not sure how much to admit. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at me that makes me want to keep going. I know I’ve only just met Thorne, but he’s so easy to talk to. The words spill out of me before I can stop them. “I’m not sure it’s the right fit anymore. It was my dream for so long, but the reality is different. I’m exhausted. Burned out. And I keep thinking about doing something else.”
“Like what?”
I shake my head. “If I tell you, you’ll think I’m naïve.”
“Try me.”
I bite my lip. Am I really going to be honest about this? I’ve never told anyone about my current dream.
“You don’t have to feel pressured to tell me anything,” he says as if he’s a mind reader.
Thorne’s is good like that. It’s as if he always senses what I need and want, and knows exactly what to say.
I smile. “Thank you. I want to tell you, but don’t laugh, okay?”
“I promise.”
“I’m dreaming of having a homestead. Or something else nature-related. I want to escape the city, grow my own food, and finally have some time to breathe. I know it’s romanticized and probably harder than I think, but…”
“But it sounds a hell of a lot better than what you’re doing now,” he finishes.
“Yeah. You don’t think that’s crazy?”
“Why would I? You basically just described my life. Minus the homestead part, but I’ve got the land for it.”
My heart does a weird little flip, then starts racing. “Really?”
“Really. I’ve got five acres. It could easily support chickens and a garden, maybe an orchard too.”
He says it so casually, as if he hasn’t just described my exact fantasy. And if he isn’t sitting here in his flannel shirt and with his thick beard, being the living embodiment of everything I’ve been dreaming about during those soul-crushing evenings at the office.
Still, I try not to show how affected I am by his seemingly casual words. “And you’d let me use your land, just like that?”
He grins. “Only if you promise not to steal anything.”
“Excuse me?” I say in mock disbelief.
“Well, you did steal my Christmas tree. It’s a slippery slope. First, it’s a tree; next thing you know, you’re running off with my entire chicken coop.”
“I would never steal your chickens.”
“That’s what they all say. Before you know it, you’re the most wanted woman in White Pine Falls.”
“Pretty sure I already am, considering I did technically steal your tree,” I joke.
His smile turns wicked again. “Oh, you’re wanted alright. Just not by the sheriff.”
I almost drop the lights. Is he sayinghewants me? I should say something and ask him what he means, but I’m a chickenshit. If he truly wants me, he’ll have to spell it out for me. I’ve never been the kind of person who takes the first step. Maybe that’s why I’ve never been with anyone before. Nothing serious anyway. I’ve kissed some guys, sure, but it always fizzled out after a few weeks.
“I think I forgot to bring one of the boxes out that has the star in it,” he says, getting up.
Great. My silence has scared him off. He disappears, and I’m left standing here, clutching Thorne’s half-tangled Christmas lights. My mind races, replaying his words over and over again.
Oh, you’re wanted all right. Just not by the sheriff.
Damn, I should have said something. Or smiled. I should’ve done anything instead of staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. Maybe when he comes back, I’ll find the courage to ask him what he meant.
Oh, who am I kidding? I’m not brave enough for that. I’ll keep decorating this tree while pretending my entire body isn’t buzzing from the idea that this gorgeous, kind, infuriatingly perfect mountain man wantsme.
