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But the knot tightening in my stomach nags for my attention. Solia is irresistible, but I am not an asshole. If I walk through her cabin door, I know what will happen, and I won’t be another loser on her list. I fight the fire burning inside and hold myself back.
“Good night, Solia.”
“Good night, Jackson.” Her lips press tightly together, facial muscles tightening, and she turns to walk inside.
I toss my head back, look at the stars, and wonder why things work out the way they do. Sometimes I wonder if God laughs at the plans we try to make.
8
Tractors and a certain sexy farmer infiltrate my dreams. I came to New Hampshire with a list of goals, and finding a man was not one of them. Men have burned me too many times. While I can’t control my dreams at night, my daydreams I can attempt to stop. I need to get things done and tear my focus away from wanting to see Jackson again.
There was something about the way he left last night. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I sensed his hesitation. His energy changed—his demeanor shifted. One minute he was examining my lips, and the next, he was saying goodbye.
I grab my phone, hoping Mia can talk sense into me.
“Hey, sorry, it’s early.”
Hearing the sleepiness in her voice, there’s no denying that I woke her. “Yeah, it is. What’s going on?”
“What’s up is, I spent half the night getting undressed on a tractor by a guy I just met. This is not what I came here for.”
“Wait! Back the hell up. Who? What tractor? This is amazing. I want details now.”
“Dreams, Mia. I dreamt of the tractor thing for hours.”
“Damn.”
“I met this guy right after I arrived. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say he accidentally saw me dancing naked on the deck. And we fed each other fudge.”
“Holy shit! Now, this is what I’m talking about. Get it, girl! Is he hot?”
“Yes, Mia, he’s fucking gorgeous, muscles from head to toe, and he’s a farmer. But I have the worst track record. You’ve been an eyewitness to every train wreck. He asked me to go out Saturday, and I said yes before thinking it through. I came here to learn to love myself and all that wholesome bullshit. I haven’t been here for ten minutes, and I’ve already found a guy to drool over. What if he’s just another prick? I don’t get that vibe from him, but I’m pretty certain my radar is broken.”
“Solia, get a hold of yourself. You are so dramatic. I’m pretty sure this guy only asked you on a date. You aren’t accepting a proposal. Just enjoy it. You are a beautiful, single sex siren living in the mountains. Let the farmer in the dell mow your fields! Why not? Live your life!”
“Oh my god, Mia. Seriously. I called you to help talk me out of this. I should be making friends, watching the stars, and swimming in the lake. Not ogling over the first guy I run into.”
“Yeah, and you can do those things, naked, with your sexy farmer. Let his muscles show you what’s up in the bedroom while you are at it. Seriously, Solia, not everything has to be so serious. Google him, make sure he’s not a psycho, and take him for a ride. But remember to tell me every detail. Can I go back to bed now?”
“Sure, great, thanks for the pep talk. I’ll call you later.”
I’m not exactly sure what I thought Mia was going to tell me. Although I wanted her to screw my head on straight, she’s right. I never let loose—why can’t I just have fun and see what happens? No one is making promises or getting in deep. As usual, I’m overthinking things.
Even the good parts of my past relationships are less than memorable. I don’t remember ever experiencing such an instant wish to be undressed by someone as I did upon meeting Jackson. This guy is fire. He lights the end of every nerve in my body, and even if I wanted to say no, there is no way in hell I could resist him.
Trying desperately to stuff my visions of us on Jackson’s tractor to the back of my brain, I grab the list I made a few days ago to focus on staying busy and productive today.
My first stop is the post office to file a change of address and check on the P.O. box since my cabin is too far out of town for mail delivery.
I then head to the sleepy Meriden Town Library to request a new card because I’m an old-school kind of reader.
Next, I go to town hall to apply for a beach pass. If I want to leave my car parked by the lake, I’ll need a sticker on my windshield. Things have changed over the years as more and more vacationers have discovered the secret of Newfound Lake. In an effort to maintain order and allow property owners access, the town only issues parking stickers to residents (for a five-dollar fee). My cabin is close enough to walk to the shore, but if I decide to bring a kayak, paddleboard, or multiple coolers, a sticker will come in handy.
School is the next location on the list. I’d like to meet the principal and dig a little to see if they’re hiring for the fall. My résumé and references have already been uploaded onto the staffing site, but things can get overlooked, especially in the summer. Meriden Elementary is one level, constructed in the shape of aU. The play yard is in the center, complete with a brightly colored jungle gym and a few scattered picnic tables. The classroom windows still have student art taped to them from the previous school year.
I loop around back and see a handful of cars in the lot. My guess is they belong to the janitors, principal, and a few teachers wrapping things up before they can officially start their summer. I park and ring the bell at the front door.
A voice crackles through the exterior speaker. “Hello, can I help you?”
