"If it's from you, I know I'll like it." Inside is a dark, chunky muffin. Tearing off a piece, I toss it into my mouth, then try not to groan in sheer bliss.
"Right?" Lynn giggles. "Marco heard me announce that when I was Queen of the World I'd take all of the best muffin flavors and put them together. He had me make a list the other day, then we tweaked it together. So that's pecan pumpkin dark chocolate chunk. I saved you the last one."
I can barely stop chewing long enough to mumble, "It's almost like fudge."
"Yeah. They're pretty dense. But if you eat them slowly, with coffee – oh! I should have brought you a coffee!"
Breaking off another piece, I slip it into her mouth, brushing her bottom lip with my thumb. "Just this is perfect. Thank you."
Helping her into the truck, we split the rest of the muffin, then we start to drive out of the lot. Waiting for a car to pass, Lynn's eyes narrow. "See those guys?"
Peering into the slow-moving car, I clock the two men in gray suits. "Yeah?"
"They head toward the end of town near your forest once or twice a week, usually around five-thirty. They're early today."
I turn to look at Lynn. "You notice the pattern of cars?"
"My car is nearly the same as theirs, but blue. Maybe that's why I spotted it the first time. I just kind of notice patterns whenthey're regular, but not too regular." She shrugs. "I know, that's weird. Sorry."
"Your brain is not weird." I reach out to squeeze her hand for a second before we turn onto the road. "Well, no. All brains are weird. Yours is no weirder than anyone else's, is what I meant."
She laughs for a second. "Okay, I'll accept that."
I don't tell her that I'm pretty sure those men are working with my uncle Lloyd on his hell-bent plan to strip our land for housing. Legally, he could do that with his own portion of the land, but it's much smaller, with some uneven terrain. Maybe it's too expensive to build on, and that's why he's got his eye on ours.
We've mostly been trying to ignore him, but he pops up incessantly, like the world's most obnoxious Whac-a-Mole.
Driving out to a different section of the forest, I take Lynn on a walk toward a small pond. "Around fifteen years ago there were ducks here." I lift her by the waist, carrying her over a muddy patch on the trail. "We keep hoping that they'll come back."
"I'm glad you're not flattening this entire forest." She squeezes my hand. "You're just thinning it out or something, right?"
I point to a cluster of trees that are very close together. Two of them have small neon green markers tied to them. "Yep. We've been surveying the land, figuring out how to take out dead trees, ones that have grown too crowded together like these, and ones that are incredibly valuable." Lynn nods, and I'm glad she's genuinely interested.
"We've been color-coding everything by section. I spoke to some wildlife experts, and they explained that it's better to disturb a habitat for a solid week and be done with it rather than disrupt things for one day every year. We'll work on one section a year, only bugging some of the animals."
Lynn's smile is pure joy. "I love that you would think of something like that. Like the way you sent me a photo instead of picking the wildflowers."
"I almost did pick them, actually. But I went with my gut." Gently pulling her closer, I drop my hand to her stomach. "What about your gut? Do we have flaming squirrels?"
Her beautiful lips press together as she stifles a laugh. "They're not running away from the fire right now. Just walking at a brisk pace."
"Like when you're slightly late for a plane, but don't want to be seen racing through the airport?"
"Exactly."
I love how easily we laugh together as my arms slip around her. "What can I do to put out the fire?"
The dappled light makes her eyes dance. "I'm not sure." She hesitates. "Maybe keep distracting me?"
I lean down, then stop, making Lynn come to me. Our kiss is dreamy and soft, then quickly gains steam.
I'm glad that she presses against me as much as she does as I pull her in. It feels like she wants me. Her lips part, welcoming my tongue as we move slowly, exploring every angle. The sensation of her fingers digging into my shirt makes my cock hard as ironwood, which doesn't even grow around here.
I start to untuck the back of her shirt, then murmur, "I want to touch your back. Do the squirrels approve?"
"Yes," she breathes.
A tremor runs through me from the friction of her silky skin against my rough palms. Slowly caressing up and down her spine, I feel rejuvenated, as her energy ignites mine.
