Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 566(@200wpm)___ 453(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Which is ridiculous, I know. We’re both adults. We could walk right out there hand in hand, and no one could say a damn thing.
But there’s a rush in the secrecy. An electric, dangerous thrill that makes my pulse skip and my knees a little weak and makes me want more.
More of his kiss. More of being in his bed. More of his hands on my body. More of him and the way he makes me feel.
Tad leans in, and his mouth just barely brushes my ear. “Betsy,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear, “you better be in Tom’s bed tonight.”
A shiver dances down my spine.
By the time I walk back into the crowded poker room, my lips are still tingling and my pulse is doing its own wild shuffle.
As I slide back into my seat and catch Tad’s grin from across the table, I remind myself what this is supposed to be.
Light. Casual. A distraction.
No strings. No stakes. No promises. That’s the deal.
But the longer this game goes on, the harder it is to pretend I’m not tempted to go all in.
23
Tad
Monday, February 22nd
Snow comes down like it has a grudge against the entire state of Vermont. This winter has been a real bitch. I’m honestly starting to wonder if the universe has decided she wants to bury us until spring.
It’s nearing four in the morning, and instead of being curled up in my bed with Breezy, I’m outside while she’s still sleeping, handling the responsibility that comes with being a sheep farmer.
I could’ve called Randy, but I decided to let him stay in bed.
The snow switches from big, fat flakes to the tiny, relentless kind that stings your cheeks and finds the gap between your collar and your neck, no matter how tight you pull the zipper of your coat.
And with the way it’s coming down now, by dawn, the world will be erased and redrawn in white. Which means every daily farm chore will be twice as fucking hard if I don’t lay some groundwork now.
The only reason I’m up in the first place is because my girl Mabel is due to go into labor any day now, and the camera in the barn had my phone pinging with notifications of her restlessness.
Once I saw it was snowing cats and dogs, I decided to get up and get some work done while I kept an eye on her.
I’m breaking ice on the troughs with the back of a shovel when the wind shifts and carries a thin, high bleat across the pasture.
“Shit.”
Instantly, I drop the shovel and start for the barn in the lower field. My boots crunch through drifts that’ve swallowed the fence posts up to their bellies, and the rest of my herd is huddled like a gray cloud near the line of spruce trees. They’re clearly too annoyed with the snow to try to escape, and their bodies are pressed so tight that steam comes off them in a faint cloud.
Another cry cuts the air as I’m rounding the last gate and heading into the barn.
And there she is, my poor girl Mabel, lying in the hay. Her sides are rippling, and her breath is fogging the air hard. Immediately, I see the problem—one slick lamb leg is already out and appears to be stuck.
“Easy there. I’m here.” I crouch near her and place my palm to her neck. She’s warm and trembling. “You had to pick a blizzard, huh?”
Mabel bleats in discomfort.
“Don’t worry, girl. I got you, okay?”
As I start to assess the situation, the sounds of quick footsteps crunching in the snow fill my ears. I glance over my shoulder to spot Breezy sliding across the front of the barn doors and literally slip on the ice, falling to her ass on an “Oof!”
She gets to her feet with ease, and I quickly realize she’s dressed in my biggest coat, my flannel underneath, my sweatpants covering her legs, and my wool hat slouched over her head. The outfit and my boots damn near swallow her, and it shouldn’t work at all. But somehow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so fucking beautiful.
“What are you doing up?” I ask as she steps into the barn.
“I saw the barn notifications on your phone and figured it was Mabel.” She holds up a roll of paper towels and a few bathroom towels like an offering to the gods. “I tried to bring supplies, but I don’t really know what supplies you need. Also, I almost died on your front steps, so we probably need to salt them.”
“Noted.” I try not to smile. “You okay in that?” I nod at the coat that’s practically a sleeping bag.
“Um…pretty sure I look adorable,” she says, dead serious. “Extremely capable and adorable to help with bringing a new baby sheep into the world.”