Page 101 of More Than My Hometown

“You are what I want, Ewan. And our future is here. We can go visit Iceland. Take a vacation sometime, maybe to celebrate you getting the partnership with Auburn up and running. Because the only person I want to be hanging out with in the Blue Lagoon is you. And it’s you that I want to be curled up with in a glass igloo watching the northern lights. But more than that, I want to wake up next to you every morning, living our life. On whatever adventure it takes us on.”

Her soft sigh and the tip of her smile lets me in on her thoughts—her mind going to more than just curling up under those northern lights—and my pulse skips a beat. I shift in my chair, trying to accommodate for all the blood now rushing to my dick as I sit here and think about that new fantasy.

“So, what do you say? Do you accept my proposition?”

She must be out of her mind if she thinks I could ever say no to her. Then again, I did once. Time to right that wrong once and for all.

Pushing up from my seat, I kneel down in front of Maisey, taking her hands in mine. I drink her in, letting this moment settle around us.

“You are my life, Maisey, with or without this town. So if here is where you choose, then here is where we will stay. I love you.”

“I love you.”

I reach up, cupping her face in my hands, and kiss her hard. The taste of forever is on her lips and I want to capture every drop. Maisey whimpers, leaning into me, trying to deepen the kiss, and I know I have to be careful. I am still at work after all.

Although there is a very large part of me that wants to lock those doors and have my way with her on this conference table. Ten bucks says I would not be the first Hayes man to do so with his woman either.

A knock on the door interrupts us, and we break apart quickly, like two teenagers getting caught in the act. Miss Harriett pokes her head in, ready to set up for Munch, letting me know that we should vacate the room. For now.

“So, now that I’ve invested in the business,” Maisey says, continuing her bit, “does this mean I get to attend Munch?”

“I got a better idea,” I tell her, pulling her into the hallway and pressing her up against the wall. “How about I take you home and make you my lunch?”

Maisey pretends to think for a moment, pursing her lips to the side. “I feel like that is an acceptable counteroffer.”

“Then you have yourself a deal.”