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SOLIA
Hey, guess who has a hot date tonight?
MIA
I’m guessing you??? The sexy wood stacker?
Bingo! Just dinner and fireworks.
Nice, I like where this is going. Already planning for fireworks! Go get it!
No, actual fireworks. It’s the Fourth of July.
Hahaha . . . right . . . well, you can have other fireworks too.
Can’t wait to see you next weekend.
Me too!!! Have fun! I’m in a man drought over here. Get sexy for both of us.
Freaking Mia. The woman has sex on her mind more than any guy I’ve ever met. I’m not judging because she seems to have it figured out. She is always the heartbreaker, never the one left by the wayside. I’m not sure how she does it, but the men keep flocking to her. I mean, she’s amazing, beautiful, and funny, but no part of her wants to be held down.
Guys might have a sixth sense and appreciate she’s out for a good time and won’t be much work, but then cascade like dominoes. They each fall harder in love than the last. She moves on to the next without looking back. I wish I could be less emotional with relationships, but it’s just not in my DNA.
I spend most of the day doing chores, including a deep scrub of the kitchen. Keeping this cabin clean is proving more of a challenge than my small apartment back home. I remind myself the extra dusting and scrubbing is worth the million-dollar view I get to wake up to every morning. Convinced my mother installed cameras, I don’t cut any corners. I wouldn’t put anything past her.
Several hours later, I take my latest novel out to the porch and promise to only read for one hour tops, then I’ll get ready.
It shouldn’t surprise me when I suddenly wake in the comfortable lounge chair inside the screened-in porch. My book has dropped onto the wooden deck next to my chair, and the sun is receding behind the tree line, indicating more time has passed than I thought.
What time is it?
I look at my phone lying on the side table: six p.m.Holy shit.I need to shower, find an outfit, and do the prep work for dinner. Shit. Shit. Shit!
I run into my bedroom, grab two bath towels, frantically rip off my clothes, and throw them into the laundry basket inside the bathroom. I run back through the bedroom, into the kitchen, and out the screen door to the outdoor shower. I’m lucky I don’t have neighbors.
It takes me three minutes to wash, shampoo, condition, shave, and towel off. I’m fairly certain I’ve never moved so quickly. My parents would laugh if I told them. I can’t count the number of times when I was a teenager and one of them would yell at me to get my butt out of the shower or they’d turn off the hot water. One day soon, I’ll apologize for those hot water bills.
I fly back into the cabin. The towels are tossed in with the rest of the laundry, and I rifle through my underwear drawer. It doesn’t matter what I choose, but I’m certain any woman would agree, the sexier the underwear, the sexier you feel, even if no one ever sees them. Women love holding on to this little hidden secret, like,You don’t know what I’m wearing under here, but if you did, you’d love it.After quickly narrowing the selection, I decide on a matching hot pink thong and bra.
Shimmying my way into both, I run into the bathroom to see how they look. A full-length mirror would come in handy. I’ll add that to my shopping list. On tiptoes, I can at least see the bottom of my ass in the mirror. I rotate left, right, center, adjust my breasts for optimal cleavage, and tug my underwear a little higher on my hips. I’m confident I look hot, even though Jackson won’t be seeing this.
I choose a royal blue sleeveless, fitted summer dress with wide straps and a pair of tan sandals. Taking a quick peek in the mirror, the outfit strikes me as too dressy or trying too hard. This option gets tossed to the floor. After three more attempts, I settle for a flowy pink tank and white cut-offs.
I tighten my hair behind my shoulders with a clip and head to the fridge. I pull out the potatoes to prep. Just as I begin chopping veggies for a fresh salad, I hear truck tires kicking up the pebbles from my driveway. Shit, I thought I had more time!
I run to the side porch and uncover the grill, throw a grilling spatula next to it, and light a beachy scented candle on the kitchen counter. I didn’t anticipate being this nervous. It’s one thing to go on a date, but this is on my turf, more personal, more intimate. But if things don’t go well, at least we have the fireworks to break up the night.
I go over to the screen door, and as expected, Jackson is climbing the stairs, looking fine. He is wearing khaki shorts that are on the shorter side and show off his lean leg muscles, and a clean, white T-shirt that hugs his chest in all the right places. It screams “I tried to look nice for you,” and it’s sexy.
“Hey, Solia.”
“Hi, Jackson. Come on in.”
“You look amazing. And it smells great in here. This cabin is solid! Looks well built. I saw it from the outside before, but the inside showcases the craftsmanship.” He runs his palm along the length of one of the logs by the front door.
“Thanks, but I certainly can’t take credit for any of that.”
“Well, I’m sure you chose everything that’s inside, which looks great too.”
