Page 28 of Small Town Boy

More than that, her secret was genuine. Not earth-shattering, but genuine, nonetheless. It was something she hasn’t ever shared but was willing to open up, even if only slightly, and share. Leaving me wanting more.

“Truth,” I say, keeping it going. I like this. Just the two of us, no one else to butt in.

“Ummmm…”

“Want to know what the girls always ask?” She nods. “They always want to know the last time I went out with someone.”

“Is that a secret?”

I shrug. Shifting on the stump so that I’m facing her, I scoot forward until our knees are touching. It’s a bold move, but after what she just shared, I feel like a barrier has been broken. That maybe I can push it, just a little.

“I don’t tend to kiss and tell. Which is why none of them know that it’s been awhile.”

“How long is awhile?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Little over a year.”

I lean in more, resting a hand on her knee. When she doesn’t flinch or push me away, I relax, letting it slide to the inside.

“Me too,” she replies, leaning in and closing the gap even more. She licks her lips, eyes glued to mine. “I mean, the while part. It’s been closer to two for me.”

“Then maybe one of us should dare the other to fix that.”

Bronwyn sucks in a gulp of air, holding it. I can see the flicker in her eyes and know that it’s reflecting the full-on fire in mine. My mind is racing, wondering if her lips taste like the honey her hair reminds me of.

There’s only one way to find out.

I don’t wait for the dare. I push in closer, closing the small space between us. My hand is still on her knee, acting as an anchor, tethering us together. Her sweet scent overwhelms me, all of my brain power gone. My whole body is acting on its own, focusing on finding her lips with mine.

“Hey y’all!”

Fuck…

9

BRONWYN

I owe Kenzie Noble a great big thank you. Or a very friendly pie to the face. I’m not quite sure which.

Because last night she stopped me from making a big mistake. Or from…no, no…it would have been a mistake. No matter how much my body is betraying my brain still, wishing Kenzie and crew had shown up a moment later, kissing Noel would have been a mistake.

So what if I spent the rest of the night so distracted by the thought of Noel’s lips on mine that I missed pretty much everything else going on around me. Nor do I remember what question I stumbled through answering when it was my turn for truth or dare. Something about a wildest dream, I think.

I can guarantee I didn’t tell the truth either. Because there was no way I mentioned the wild sex dream I had starring Noel after he called the tow truck and drove me home the other night. That’s something I’m keeping to myself. As is the follow-up dream I had last night, that displaced the first one from the top spot. Friday’s was good—don’t get me wrong. But last night? Last night’s had me waking up drenched in sweat, all hot, bothered, and fully satiated—my body in a post-orgasmic bliss I didn’t know dreams could provide.

Apparently, Dream Noel can.

I need to stop thinking about it. Because thinking about it only makes me want it more. And I can’t want it. So I need something else to focus on. Like the farmers’ market.

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod at the older gentleman who is standing by the welcome table as he hands me a flyer. His smile is bright, like his whole life is complete standing here greeting the townspeople who enter.

“A list of all today’s booths,” he tells me. “All the usual, but we also have a couple of new folks this fall. Brantford Farms is down from Ellijay!”

“Thanks!” I reply, forcing myself to be cheerful. I have zero idea who Brantford Farms is, or where Ellijay is, so I nod some more and make my way down the aisles. The field beside the library is crammed full of stalls, booths, and tents. I’m amazed they have room for people with how jam-packed it all is.

I wander up and down the rows, taking in all the fresh produce, the bright colors distracting me from what I really want to be thinking about. There’s a beautifully wide variety of fruits and vegetables, making me wish I had brought more than one shopping bag with me. I should have brought the roller cart that I used at the markets back in Boston. Clearly, my mind was elsewhere when I left the house this morning.

Turning a corner, I’m immediately greeted by a stunning floral smell. It’s a mix of different scents, all rolled into something that can’t be named, yet is swirling around me like fairy dust in a princess movie. I’m drawn over to a back booth with stunning bouquets, small potted plants, and a few trees.