Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
He’d propped his elbows in the bed on either side of my shoulders, but the full weight of his lower body was resting against mine, and I’d had to spread my legs to make room. Even though he’d fucked me so beautifully and thoroughly I’d seen stars not twenty minutes before, and even though I’d been reasonably certain I couldn’t get an erection at that moment to save my soul, my eyes had still gone half-shut and I’d had to catch my breath at how good and right it all felt, which had made me just a teensy bit slow on the uptake.
“Mmmm. Always want your opinion, baby,” I’d said a little breathlessly, like “opinion” was code for “dick,” which it maybe kinda was.
“I think we should get married,” Dunn had said.
My eyes had popped wide in shock. “We what?”
“No, no, now, just listen.” Dunn’s jaw had done that sideways tick it did when he was preparing to be stubborn. “You love me, I know that for an absolute fact. And you’ve gotta know, Tuck, that I love you just as much. I need you the way… the way… crops need rain. And without you, I’d be nothing but a rotting corn cob, waiting for the crows to peck at me.”
My eyes had gone even wider. My man was no poet…
Except he also sort of was.
“And I know it’s fast,” he went on, like he mistakenly thought I needed convincing. “I know maybe you’re thinking we haven’t settled into things fully. I know we only just went public a couple weeks ago, and people are still getting used to the idea of us being together officially. Heck, Ethan at the Tavern just asked me again how much I spent on Jenn’s Entwinin’ wreath—”
He’d rolled his eyes.
I’d narrowed mine.
“Do not remind me of that woman,” I’d bitten out.
There was no love lost between me and Jenn Shipley, and there never would be.
The morning after the Entwinin’, she’d informed me with a sniff that she no longer needed employment, since she was going to be Monster’s old lady—according to Vienna, when Jenn and her onetime biker paramour had found themselves alone at the Italian place on Entwinin’ night, they’d decided it was fate and had immediately rekindled their relationship—and she’d never really seen much of a future with a “small-time cowhand” like Dunn Johnson, anyway.
It had taken all my self-control to force a smile and give her all my best wishes. Then, on the offhand suggestion from Dunn’s sister, I’d rented a wood chipper from the feed store, spent the entire afternoon turning the Entwinin’ monstrosity on my lawn into mulch (much to Carter’s amusement), hired a guy to dump it in her driveway as a parting gift, and gone home to let that incredibly gorgeous “cowhand” make love to me until my rage turned into passion, then soul-deep satisfaction.
The whole thing had been wildly cathartic.
But that didn’t mean I’d wanted the woman’s name on Dunn’s lips ever again, especially not in our bed.
“But that’s exactly why I’m thinking… why do it halfway?” Dunn had continued, not realizing the dark turn my thoughts had taken. “When you and me already know we’re forever, Tuck, why not just go all in? Make this our farm. Our farmhouse. Our place in town, with that hidden closet in the office. Make it our future that we’re building, where we’re entwined until the very end.”
“Oh.” I’d sucked in a shuddering breath, because oxygen had suddenly been in short supply. “Oh, Dunn, I—”
Dunn had quickly pressed a kiss to my mouth to halt my words and breathed against my lips, “Wait, no! There’s more. You haven’t heard the best part.”
“Haven’t I?” I’d stared up at his handsome face in wonder. I’d been pretty confident I’d heard the best part. In fact, I’d known for sure that was the best thing I’d ever heard in my life.
“No, see, I’m not talking about us getting engaged, I’m talking about us getting married. And none of this business of ‘How many people are you inviting from your side of the family, Tuck?’ and googling ‘Who gets to pick the flavor of the groom’s cake when you’ve got two grooms?’ and ‘Do we spend the money on the satin bows or go for the sateen, and what does that say about our commitment to one another?’”
He’d shuddered, no doubt remembering Cindy Ann’s most recent emergency wedding meeting, and I didn’t blame him. I had a much higher tolerance for party planning than Dunn did, and even I’d been traumatized by how many feelings she had about the minutiae of it all.
“I don’t give a damn about any of that, and I know you don’t—”
I’d shaken my head. I didn’t.
“And I know Brooks and Mal don’t either, not really. Mal just convinced Brooks to let Mama have her fun, and that’s fine for them. They don’t mind the spectacle, and the Thicket is kinda what brought them together. You and me, though…” He’d stared at the pillow beside my head like he was gathering his thoughts. “We were both raised right here. You didn’t leave for long, and I never left at all. All our stories are Thicket stories. And a hundred years from now, Amos Nutter will be telling young whippersnappers about those crazy kids Tucker and Dunn and all the antics we got up to over the years.”