Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“May I?” Callum holds out his hand for a stalk, and I set it in his palm. He kisses the petals and then sets it on the water. “Happy Birthday, darling girl.”
“She would have liked you,” I say. “And maybe I should have come here alone earlier this morning, but I didn’t have the flowers yet, and—”
“Thank you for allowing me to join you,” he says and rubs circles on my back as I toss the final few stems onto the lake. “You should honor Emma on her birthday.”
“Thank you.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I come to this spot when I want to do something special for them. They would have liked it here.”
“What’s not to like?”
“Exactly, it’s a beautiful spot.” I push up from my squat and feel Callum take my hand, linking our fingers. “Happy Birthday, baby girl.”
We’re quiet for a long moment. The water is still this morning, and the air is cool, full of autumn.
Just as I’m about to suggest that we go, an eagle soars over the water, then loops around to fly over us. It lets out a loud cry before changing course and heading down the length of the lake.
“Well, it seems she’s thinking of you today as well, sweetheart.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and lean my head against his arm, feeling the strength of his biceps under my cheek.
“I have so much to show you today. But maybe we can stay here, like this, for just a few more minutes.”
“We’ll stay as long as you like.”
Chapter 9
~Callum~
She’s lovely.
I don’t know that I’ve thought of a woman that way before. Sexy? Yes. Interesting? Sure. Other adjectives might have come to mind when describing other women I’ve had in my bed.
But I didn’t want any of them in my life. My world is complicated enough with just me in it, Adding another person didn’t seem responsible or appropriate.
Until Aspen.
Now, when I watch the way her green eyes light up when she smiles, or hear the sound of that infectious laugh, or feel her skin against mine, all I can think is: She’s so lovely.
I’m quite taken with her. My mum would say I fancy her.
And I do.
But it’s much more than that. My respect for her as a woman and business owner has deepened. My appreciation for how she lives her life has strengthened.
And the ferocity with which I crave her has consumed me.
Hearing her speak about her daughter this morning touched me. No one should experience the pain of burying a child. I can’t imagine the horror she endured.
And yet, here she is, moving on with her life, and doing it beautifully.
“Do you like ice cream?” she asks as she parks beside a curb.
“Of course.” No. I’m not an ice cream fan at all, but if this is what she wants, she’ll have it. I’ll give her anything her heart desires at the snap of my fingers.
“Good. Because we’re going into Sweet Scoops.” She grins and then turns to get out of the car. I join her, walking into the small ice cream parlor. We’re the only ones in here this afternoon. The weather has been moody all day, vacillating between pleasant and torrential rain.
“Hi, Aspen,” the woman behind the counter says with a smile. “I didn’t see you at the chamber of commerce meeting last week.”
“Hey, Lydia. I know, I had a hell of a week. I’ll make the next one. This is Callum.”
Shrewd eyes turn to me. Of course, she recognized me the minute we walked in, but the thing about Cunningham Falls is that no one seems to acknowledge the royals’ presence.
“Hello, Lydia,” I say with a nod.
“Nice to meet you,” Lydia replies. “What can I get you two?”
“I’ll have a scoop of the huckleberry, of course,” Aspen says, then turns to me expectantly.
“The same, please.”
“Two hucks, coming up,” Lydia says and gets to work scooping the ice cream into cups. She passes them over, along with plastic spoons, and we go to sit at a table to enjoy the treat.
“So, we’ve been to Frontier Park,” I say, thinking about our day so far. “Ed’s Diner. Drove around the entirety of the lake, went to the birds of prey sanctuary where I fed baby owls, and now we’re having ice cream.”
“Busy day,” she says with a nod. “There are some other places I could take you, but they’re a bit of a drive away, and I’m getting tired. This will probably ruin my dinner, by the way.”
“Who says ice cream can’t be dinner?”
Her green eyes warm, and she grins as she licks some ice cream from her spoon.
Jesus, the image that just went through my brain of her using that tongue elsewhere should be illegal.
“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” she asks.
“Actually, I have a confession.” I sigh and take the last bite, then set the cup aside. “I don’t love it at all.”