I take in the breathtaking view with a sense of awe and gratitude. The creek meanders lazily through the lush landscape, flanked by towering trees adorned with vibrant green leaves that sway gently in the evening breeze. Their branches reach out like welcoming arms, casting dappled shadows on the water below.
Birdsong fills the air, a symphony of chirps and trills that seems to harmonize with the gentle babbling of the creek. I close my eyes for a moment, allowing the soothing sounds to wash over me, grounding me in the present moment.
In the distance, is the silhouette of the old covered bridge, its weathered wooden planks a timeless symbol of our town’s rich history. It stands as a silent sentinel, watching over Sweetkiss Creek with quiet reverence.
I love it here.
“I’ll have you know that in high school,” Travis interjects, interrupting my solitude, “I was known as the most giving student when I graduated.”
“I don’t think that was an award they handed out.” Snapping my fingers, I sit up a little taller. “Considering the fact I still have that yearbook, I can see if that is factually correct.”
Travis narrows his eyes. “You wouldn't dare.”
Shrugging, I hop up and head inside. “Oh, yes I would.”
I’ve no sooner closed the glass door behind me when I hear Travis call my name again. Sure he’s going to tell me not to get the yearbook, I wave a hand over my shoulder and ignore him. I walk over to the bookshelf in the living room, the last place I remember it being.
Scanning the shelves, I see a lot of other memories in the form of photos and trinkets: the tiny Big Ben and photos of us as a family unit in front of the palace from our family trip to London, a book on sea turtles from our adventures in the Caribbean, some photos from the Christmas we spent in Florida. That was the trip we agreed we’d never not be home for Christmas again…not that we didn’t like Florida, but we like a snowy, cold Christmas, otherwise, it just doesn’t feel right.
Scratching my head, literally, I realize that the yearbook is probably in my old bedroom. I’d only vacated it a few months ago, but I knew Mom had some big plans for it once I was out. I hit the stairs and take them two at a time to the second floor, unsure of what state my room will be in once I get there.
I throw the door open and immediately jump back. There, on my old bed glaring at me is a small familiar dog, eyes laced with judgment. As I open the door wider, it growls.
“Okay…” Looking around, I realize my room feels weird, then I see the pile of clothes in the corner. Looking back at the dog, I know we’ve met already in a certain rogue ride I took part in just a day ago.
When my eyes land on a suitcase in the corner that’s flipped wide open, a little rush of heat floods my system.
Taking a step backward, I keep my eyes on the small beast checking me out and start to turn around. Only when I do, I walk face-first and slam chest-to-chest into a giant wall. A wall that looks very similar to Jake December.
Caught off guard, I start to tumble back, falling into the room. My hand flails in the air, grabbing at anything to steady me, grasping onto Jake’s arms and wrapping my hands tightly around his biceps hoping he can break my fall.
Lucky for me, this man is like a superhero and acts in a flash. His other arm comes around to scoop me from behind as he plants his stance firmly and catches me in his arms. I’m prettysure to the normal passerby it would look like a couple trying to dance, he attempting to dip me and looking graceful in the process, but I’m for sure this loose piece of spaghetti dangling from his hands.
Taking a giant breath, I try to hide my embarrassment and not make eye contact, only to realize that the man’s arms are covered in tattoos. Like, not the kind that are too much, but a few tattoos here and there placed in the best places. Skimming them, I want to reach out and touch one, stopping just short of doing so as several thoughts make their way through my mind at one time.
One being that he’s just caught me and I should really stand up. The other, that if I can see his tattoos, then that means he isn’t wearing a shirt. The smoothness of his skin feels nice under the palm of my hand, his muscles firm, and I realize I’m subconsciously stroking his bicep.
“What the…,” I manage to blurt as I try to stand up.
“Here.” Jake steadies me and takes a step back, a smile draped across those beautiful lips of his. I want to smack myself. I’ve managed to check out his lips and find them beautiful. And feel up his arms all in one minute.
Then I let my eyes do the walking. The man is standing in front of me in all of his glory with one of my parents’ towels draped loosely around his hips.
He’s wearing only a towel.
ONLY A TOWEL.
“You okay?” His eyes are full of concern, his voice husky. I suddenly like husky. A lot.
“Ah, yes.” I smooth down my hair and straighten my shirt, my eyes darting around my old bedroom and then to him again. “Sorry. I had no idea you were even here, much less in my old room.”
He lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “Pipe burst at the bed-and-breakfast so they had to cancel all of their reservations. Your parents offered.” His eyes scan my room, and I think there’s actual delight reflected back at me. “How could I say no?”
I turn and take in my old space. The walls are painted in soft, earthy tones, creating a warm and inviting backdrop for the room’s decor. Tapestries adorned with intricate patterns hang from the ceiling, adding a touch of bohemian flair and serving as focal points for the space. Dreamcatchers sway gently in the breeze, their delicate feathers and beads casting playful shadows on the walls.
A large, cozy bed takes center stage, draped in layers of colorful quilts and throws, but all for sure vibing on the color pink. Pillows of various shapes and sizes are scattered across the bed, including some of my old stuffed animals from when I was little. A canopy of sheer fabric hangs above, adding a touch of romance to the space.
Chewing on a grin, I look back at Jake and purse my lips. “Hope you like pink.”
