Total pages in book: 186
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 178688 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 893(@200wpm)___ 715(@250wpm)___ 596(@300wpm)
Our afternoon has been full of unspoken words and stolen glances, and I don’t want it to end. As I study her, there’s not a doubt in my body about returning to Lawton Ridge. I’m just so damn grateful she’s giving me another chance.
“Let’s paint a pumpkin,” I suggest as we pass a makeshift pumpkin patch. Brushes and paint are set out for those who want to decorate it here. Gemma nearly squeals, then gives me a look. “My painting skills suck, but we’ll make a Picasso pumpkin if you want.”
The rows are long with at least three hundred pumpkins of all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Children rush past us, and Gemma smiles sweetly at them.
“What?” I ask her as we knock on a few.
“I can’t wait to bring my kids here,” she admits with a blush to her cheeks. “Not that I’m ready to have kids right now, but I’m not getting any younger.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “I think you’ll make a great mom, Gemma. You have a big heart and care.”
“Do you want children?” she asks. It’s not something we’ve discussed. When we were younger, we were too busy living between the sheets and in the moment to talk about our future.
“If I found the right woman,” I say. “I’ve thought about it a few times, but considering my childhood wasn’t the greatest, I’m wary about bringing kids into this world.”
She swallows, watching me. “Would you have kids with me?”
I wrap my arms around her waist until I can feel the warmth of her skin against mine. “Without a doubt.”
Her gaze seems to pierce through me, and her expression softens. “How about this one?” she eventually says, quickly changing the subject.
“It’s great.” I lift the pumpkin, not realizing how damn heavy it is, but I should’ve, considering he’s the daddy of the whole patch. I set it down by the decorating supplies with an oof. “I swear he weighs seventy-five pounds.”
She snickers. “He? Are we naming him?”
I let out a chuckle. “Yeah, let’s call him Big Daddy.”
“I honestly just wanted to see if you could lift it. And you did.” Her smile touches her eyes.
“You are so wrong for that,” I tell her, grabbing a brush and squirting different colors of paint on a paper plate. We both sit cross-legged and look at the giant orange pumpkin.
“What if you decorate one side, and I do the other?” I suggest.
Gemma laughs. “Deal!”
We get to work on our masterpieces. There’s enough space for me to put what I want, and I can’t wait for Gemma to see. When I glance up at her, she’s deep in thought, and I chuckle, trying to imagine what she’s creating over there. If it’s anything like her canvas, I’m taking this pumpkin home and displaying it right next to the front door. Once I’m finished, I sit patiently and wait for her to finish. She claps her hands together and brings her knees close to her chest.
“Are you ready for me to see?” I ask, and she covers her face with her hands.
“I guess!” she says excitedly, and I crawl close to her. When I look at what she’s drawn, I’m at a loss to what it is.
“Do you see it?” She’s smiling wide, and I nod.
“It’s a…” I try to figure it out quickly but fail miserably.
“It’s a spider!” Gemma reaches over and tries to tickle me, and the next thing I know, I’m leaned over, pushing her back against the grass and kissing her. Her palm rests on my cheek, and her warm, ragged breaths brush against my lips as I devour her. We’re lost in a moment of time as the sounds of children fill the background along with music in the distance. Our tongues twist and dance, and the only thing that stops us is a clearing of a throat.
“Gemma?” a woman asks, standing over us. I push away, and Gemma sits up, trying to fix her hair. The woman zeros in on us.
“Where’s Robert?” she questions, wearing an accusing expression.
Gemma clears her throat, tucking loose strands of her hair behind her ears. “I’m not sure. We’re not together anymore. Clearly.” Just by the tone in Gemma’s voice, it’s obvious she’s annoyed.
“Oh.” She looks at me again, then back at Gemma. “Sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not,” Gemma snaps, and the woman makes small talk about the weather before scurrying off.
“Bitch,” Gemma whispers under her breath.
“Who was she?” I ask curiously, considering she felt the need to confront Gemma as if she was an adulteress or something.
“One of Robert’s secretaries. I swear she’s always had a thing for him. Honestly, though, she can have him. He’s available now, so go get him!” Gemma waves her hand, then laughs before leaning over and capturing my lips. “I haven’t seen your side yet,” she says when we break apart.