Dinner is entertaining, to say the least. We eat in the inn’s dining room with the other guests. We’re by far the youngest here, surrounded by sweet, elderly patrons.
The best part is that Lincoln and I can just be ourselves. No one bombards us with a hundred questions. We just get to relax, get to know each other some more, all while eavesdropping on the silly conversations happening around us, and struggling not to laugh.
Somehow, by the end of the meal, Lincoln has stolen the heart of the old lady at the table next to ours. And I’m half worried that Mrs. Byron from Williamsburg, Virginia, is going to invite him up to her and her husband’s room for something inappropriate later.
Looking freaked out, Lincoln leans across the table and whispers. “Let’s skip out on dessert.”
“I like the sound of that,” I reply, ready for a moment to ourselves.
“Wait. Where are you going?” Mrs. Byron asks, waving us down as Lincoln helps me into my jacket.
“Taking my wife on an evening stroll,” he says, offering our dinner mates a polite salute. “See you all at breakfast?”
Mrs. Byron keeps waving her arms. “Wait. I need you to come up to my room and, um, help me get, um, my favorite keepsake down from the top shelf.”
“What keepsake?” her jealous husband asks grumpily. “I don’t know of any keepsake!”
Lincoln’s eyes discreetly roll to the ceiling, but he keeps his composed tone. “No worries, Mrs. Byron. I’ll have the front desk send someone to help you out. Good night now.”
I bury my face against his shoulder to hide my laughter as we saunter out of the inn.
“Jeez. I’m glad we got out of there.” I grin up at him. “I didnotcome all the way to Crescent Harbor to have my husband stolen away by some feisty old lady.”
Lincoln zips my leather jacket up to my chin. He drops a kiss on my nose and scoffs. “Never. No one’s stealing me away. I’m all yours.”
And I know that he’s only joking, but—gosh—I wish so much that this were true. That I were his. For real. For the long haul.
But I can’t bring myself to admit it, so I turn, pulling him along, our feet crunching along the gravel path.
The stars are so bright out here in the middle of nowhere. I can’t remember a time when I’ve been able to see the constellations so clearly. As Lincoln wraps his warm hand around mine, I can’t help but think of how perfect this weekend has been.
When my teeth start chattering, Lincoln guides me toward a big, dark barn at the end of a long driveway. We sneak inside, grateful for a shield from the cold breeze.
Smack dab in the middle is a ginormous parked tractor.Shooting a playful smile over my shoulder at Lincoln, I dart over to the vehicle. I use the nearby hay bale to hoist myself up, and then I climb up onto the tractor bench behind the steering wheel.
“Wanna plow the fields with me, Mr. Button-Up?” I ask, waggling my brows.
“How did you know I had a thing for farmer chicks?” He quickly scrambles up onto the seat next to me, with far more grace and athleticism than I ever could.
“I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I liked your ass in blue jeans.”
He leans in, his lips hovering close to mine. “I thought you liked my ass in business suits,” he teases before stealing a kiss.
When he tries to ease backward, I hold him close, letting my fingers go tight in his hair. “I like you as a sexy corporate business man.”
Kiss.
“AndI like you as a hot cowboy.”
Kiss.
“AndI like you as a naked porn star.”
Kiss.
I’m kind of digging all his sides. I want to explore every single one of them.
Lincoln grins. “All I’m hearing is you like me. I didn’t hear anything else.”
