Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I’m so excited,” Blakely replies.
“I knew you would be. Last year, I think you spent as much time out here while we put up and decorated this tree as our crew did.” Jerry laughs.
“I can’t help it. This is incredible.” Blakely tilts her head back to look up at the gigantic tree on the front lawn of the hospital.
“This year you brought a friend.” Jerry smiles kindly.
“Oh, I did. Sorry, this is Oliver Thompson. He’s an orthopedic physician here at Willow River General. Oliver, this is Jerry. He’s the head of maintenance and a magician with leading his crew in all things tree decorating.”
I hold my free hand out to Jerry. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well.” His eyes flash to my arm that’s around Blakely’s waist, but I don’t move it.
I like having her this close. I refuse to think about why and ignore all the warning bells flashing in my mind. “This is a big task,” I comment, looking away from him and to the tree.
“It is, but one that I enjoy. My Martha, she loves it too. We’ve come to the Tree Lighting Ceremony here since it started almost thirty years ago.”
“How is Martha?” Blakely asks.
“She’s perfect.” Jerry beams when he talks about his wife.
“Tell her I said hello. I’ll see her at the lighting in a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll do that.” Jerry nods. “So, any changes? Words of wisdom?” he teases.
“No. And you know I only wanted this meeting to see you and look at the progress.”
“I know.” He nods. “It’s getting cold. You better go on. I’ll send you progress pictures.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know, but I know you love them, and that keeps you from standing out here in the cold all night watching as we work.”
I peer down at Blakely and see she’s smiling. “Okay, fine. Thank you.” I can hear the excitement in her voice. She looks up at me. “Ready?”
“When you are. It was nice to meet you, Jerry.”
“You too, son,” he says.
With a smile and a wave, we’re walking back to my SUV.
“Thanks for dinner. Again,” Blakely says, as we get closer. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Where are you going?”
She points to the other side of the building. “To my car.”
“Get in. I’m driving you.”
“I can walk.”
“And I said I would drive you.” It’s dark and cold as hell. She can sit with me while her car warms up.
“Bossy.”
“Brat,” I fire back. She sticks her tongue out at me, and it only makes the urge to kiss her even stronger. I open the door for her, and she climbs in. It takes us no time to drive to her car. Reaching over, I place my hand on her thigh, something I enjoy much more than I should. “Start it and let it warm up.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You will be, right here in my car that’s not nearly as cold as yours.” Reaching over, I adjust the heat a little higher and point the warm air toward her.
“You’re a nice guy underneath all that grump, Oliver Thompson.”
“Just to you it seems,” I say, my hand lifting to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Nah, you’re just a big old softy hiding behind your past.”
“Are you a therapist now?”
“No, but I see you, Ollie.” Her voice is soft with her confession.
“I see you too,” I admit. I lean in. I need to kiss her. I have to.
“Thanks again.” She rushes the words before climbing out of the car, waving, and climbing into hers.
I missed my chance, but that’s okay. The next time, I’ll make sure she can’t get away so easily. It’s been four years since I’ve kissed someone, and Blakely Kincaid is about to break that streak. She just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Blakely
“Now this is the true spirit of Thanksgiving.” I lay my last Uno card down on the table. “I win.”
“How is that Thanksgiving spirit?” my little brother, who’s seventeen and several inches taller than me, asks.
“It’s a tradition. I’m the reigning Uno champion. Ask anyone.” I raise my brow at Beckham, daring him to deny that I’m the Kincaid champ at Uno.
“That’s only because you’re old,” my cousin Caden chimes in. Caden and Beckham are the same age and thick as thieves. You rarely see one without the other close by.
“Yeah, you had a million years of practice before we all came along,” my cousin Orion adds. He’s a year older than Beckham and the oldest boy of the cousin group.
“Keep running that mouth, boys.” I grin at them. “Green looks good on you.”
“Whatever,” Beckham mutters. “You know we’re going to take you down during the football game.”
“I don’t know,” my cousin Remi, who’s nineteen, speaks up. “We’ve been beefing up.” She flexes her muscles, and we all laugh.
“Us too,” Brynlee and Ada announce. They’re the same age as Beckham and Caden. They’re all in the same class. God help the teachers at that high school.