Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Unfortunately, in my haste to fill the passenger seat with as many tiny bags of potato chips, packages of snack cakes, and sticks of questionable jerky as I could, I forgot to actually pump the gas at the last station I stopped at. It probably also had a lot to do with the questions and uncertainty that were starting to settle in the closer I got to the Christmas tree farm.
Whatever was to blame, I didn’t notice my mistake until many miles later when I happened to glance down and realized the gas gauge had not only not shifted up toward full where I really preferred to keep it but had actually dipped way lower. It was getting dangerously close to the red when I noticed it, and I immediately told my phone to find me the next gas station on the way.
My stomach sank when I saw it wasn’t going to be for another nearly thirty miles. I didn’t know if the tank was going to make it that far. Then my dashboard let out a little ding, and the low fuel light popped on. This did not bode well for the potential future waiting for me in Ashford.
By the time I saw the tiny little mom-and-pop gas station up ahead, I was doing my bumper car bounce, hoping to encourage my car all the way into the station on its remaining fumes. It may or may not have still been running when it glided into place beside the pump, but it had gotten there, and I thanked whatever deity was looking out for me at that moment that I wasn’t stuck by the side of the road in the middle of nowhere.
I checked the GPS on my phone as I climbed out of the car to see how much further I needed to go until I was at the farm. It said it was only ten minutes away, just up a mountain road from the corner shop where I stopped. Pretty soon the questions that had only built up in the last twenty-four hours would start getting answered.
Not knowing was the hardest part of it. There weren’t any pictures online or any real information to be found about the farm. Mr. Warren had been able to send me a scan of an old advertisement for it, but it really didn’t show very much. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and that was making me nervous. I looked forward to just seeing it and breaking that tension. Even if I was walking into a disaster, at least I’d know and could start moving forward.
I headed for the door to the store so I could pay for the gas inside.
As I approached the shop, a man came out. He stepped to the side and held the door open for me. I was a little stunned at the gesture, and when the tall, gorgeous man flashed me a friendly grin, I blushed like I hadn’t blushed since watching my first boy band concert in middle school.
A bit flustered and more than a bit embarrassed at my reaction, I ducked into the shop without even being sure I’d thanked him. The air-conditioning hit my heated face and cooled me down. I first went to the cooler along one wall and got a bottle of lemonade, then went to the counter to pay for my gas.
I thanked the cashier and took my receipt, then headed out to the pump. When I got there, I noticed the man who had opened the door for me adding oil to his car. I tried to look breezy and casual as I made my way to the side of my car and opened the tank. As I pumped my gas, I stole glances at him through the gap between the pumps and admired his chiseled body. I never knew a man could look so good in just a tight white T-shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans.
He must have sensed I was staring at him because he looked up and caught my eye. I offered a quick smile and turned to put the pump away, hoping I wasn’t blushing again. Tossing my hair over my shoulder, I gave him another smile and climbed behind the wheel with visions of a sexy, confident roar of my engine.
Instead, I got a weak sputter and click from the ignition. I paused and tried again. Again, there was nothing but a rumbling attempt to turn over and a thud as it gave up.
This was not happening. Everything had been going fine. I could not have completely run out of gas, blushed like a fool at a gorgeous man, and now couldn’t get my car to start in front of that same man. Panic and frustration were starting to build up inside me, and my instinct was to turn the key as many times as I could, trying to force the engine to turn over.