Chapter 6
Thatcher
Hours after that heart-stopping kiss, my lips still buzz from the contact.
I always knew kissing Blaire Sutton would likely change my world, but I wasn’t prepared for the impact one fucking kiss would have on everything I thought I knew.
All those feelings I thought I’d gotten over years ago have come flooding back to the surface.
Suddenly, I’m that twelve-year-old boy again who desperately wants the girl with pink streaks in hair from Chicago to choose him for his first kiss.
But I’m also very much a full-grown man who’d do nearly anything to get this incredibly sexy woman in my bed where I can claim her for my own—and never let her leave.
“Maybe I should move to Caribou Creek,” Blaire says as we leave behind Stark Farms, headed for Rose’s Diner. It’s one of three remaining stops on our Cupid Crawl. The realization makes my heart sink into my stomach.
I’m not ready for this to be over. Not yet.
This day has turned out nothing like I expected.
From the bakery incident that still leaves me wanting to run my tongue along her throat to see if Blaire tastes like strawberries, to the art challenge at the library where our disaster of a couples painting will hang on display for the entire town to see for the rest of February but brought out the biggest smile Blaire’s ever dared wear in my presence, to tying a ribbon around the squirmiest highland cow’s neck while wearing an oversized mitten over our cuffed hands that has her touch burned into the memory of my cells, I’m a fucking changed man.
“You want to move to Caribou Creek?”
“If Liam will hire me to cuddle miniature highland cows, yes.” Blaire flashes me a flirty glance in the back of the ATV as we bump along the snow-packed dirt road to our next destination. “Do you know if he’s single.”
Possessiveness grips my chest so quickly at the thought of Blaire with another man. “You want to move to Caribou Creek to become a cattle farmer’s wife?”
“You missed the part about miniature highland cows.” We’re huddled under a shared blanket again, so I don’t see her move her hand. But I feel her palm slide up my arm and settle on my shoulder. “They’re my biggest weakness.”
“What if I bought you one?”
“Where would you even put it?” Blaire asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Her fingers stroke my shoulder lazily, and I pretend I’m not affected. Without the blanket hiding the evidence, however, I’d be screwed. “You’re living with your parents.”
“Only because I sold my house and let the buyers move in early so they could get their kids into school here sooner.”
“Why did you sell your house?” she asks, shifting in her seat. She bends one leg, resting her knee on my thigh. Another inch or two, and that knee would know exactly how much she’s getting to me right now.
“I bought a plot of land at the edge of town. I’ll break ground after everything thaws.”
“You’re building a house?” Blaire asks, excitement twinkling in her emerald eyes.
“And apparently a barn.”
She licks her lips, her gaze dropping to my mouth. “It’s not nice to tease people, Thatch.”
She hasn’t called me Thatch since we were kids, and yet, the sound of it now, rolling off her tongue, makes me want to bribe the driver to take us back to the cabin.
I could handle being handcuffed to Blaire the rest of the night.
Something tells me she wouldn’t be all that objectionable to the idea, either.
“I’m not teasing. Move to Caribou Creek, and I’ll buy you a small herd of mini cows.”
“If you keep talking dirty to me, I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” she adds, sliding a palm up my chest and onto my neck.
Her thumb brushes my jaw as her fingers tangle in my hair at the back of my head.
If I had any sense left, I’d cut this dance short right now.
Blaire’s still getting over calling off her wedding.
There’s no way in hell she’s going to give up her life in Chicago just because I promise to build her a barn and fill it with her favorite animals.
Yet, I can’t seem to stop myself.
“How many do you want?” I ask, leaning in to close the gap between our mouths. I’m an inch shy of another kiss when the ATV jerks to a halt, rocking us apart.
“We’re at Rose’s Diner, kids,” the driver announces. “Good luck!”