Page 64

Working late. Sure. I had my face buried between her thighs at three in the morning, and the only thing we were working on was keeping the moaning to a minimum.

Fuck.

I've never had sex like that before.

Audrey was incredible.

Sexy. Confident. Playful.

She reaches for the maple syrup and the flannel shifts against her chest, and my brain helpfully replays those exact breasts above me in the packing-shed bed. She crosses her legs and I remember her dropping to her knees before my eyes.

Great.

I am one memory away from excusing myself to stand in the snow.

"So." Hunter points his fork at me across the table, mid-battle with Will over the last hash brown. "How was the old stove in the packing shed? Kept you two warm enough?"

"Toasty," I say. "Pass the syrup."

"Because that room gets drafty," Will adds, all innocence. "And honestly, I didn't realize the old bed frame was structurally rated for overnight visitors. That thing's older than Dad."

"The frame held up beautifully," Audrey says, buttering her toast without looking up. "Very solid construction. You should be proud."

Will chokes on his coffee. Hunter puts down his fork and nods out of respect.

I'm just sitting here considering which brother to murder first and whether Mom would forgive me before New Year's. Then Dad clears his throat from the counter, and the whole room changes temperature.

He's holding the folded paper he's been standing beside all morning. The developer's offer. He smooths it open on the table between the bacon and the pancakes like it doesn't belong there, because it doesn't.

"Alright. Everyone should look at this," he says. "It's a family decision. A big one."

I look, and okay. The number is big.

Big enough to clear every loan and give Mom and Dad a retirement that doesn't involve hauling firs at seventy.

It’s also the price of surrendering four generations of Stratton land to another fucking golf course some asshole billionaire doesn’t need.

"Nope. Fuck this. We're not discussing it," Dad says, which is a strange thing to say about a paper he just asked everyone to look at.

"Then why is it on the table, Dad?" Hunter's voice comes out sharp. "Refusing to look at reality doesn't fix the baler. It doesn't bring the orders back. It doesn't stop you and Mom working yourselves into the ground while we all pretend a Christmas miracle is coming."

"Hunter—" Will starts.

"No, I'm serious. We keep waiting for Miles's hockey money like it's a lottery ticket—"

"Guys." My stomach twists, because Audrey is sitting right there, watching my family bleed out over breakfast. "Can everyone just shut the fuck up for one—"

But to everyone's surprise, Audrey stands and holds her hands up.

"Actually," she says, crossing to the offer, "last night I got to thinking."

The kitchen goes quiet. Even the woodstove seems to listen.

Thinking?! She was thinking while I was balls deep inside her?

I could barely function, let alone think.

"Before I tell you, though…" Audrey holds up one hand. "I am not promising to save this farm. I don't have enough information to guarantee anything, and anyone who guarantees things after one night of tree triage is selling something. But I noticed something while I was out there tagging firs at midnight."