And I’m getting sidetracked.
“Were you serious when you said what I’m doing here,”—I wave toward the trees—“is impressive?”
“Yes.”
Yes.
Not yeah or sure or what?
Yes.
“Thanks,” I say, my cheeks heating furiously. “Sometimes I get a little carried away and forget that most people don’t care about the nuances of what I do.”
“I think it’s good to know what you like. You should never apologize for that.”
My mouth wants to fall open for the second time this morning. The double meaning laced in his words is obvious.
Telling.
And I’m getting turned on despite standing in the snow cutting down trees.
This is wildly unhelpful so I don’t respond, instead turning back toward the trees and moving to the next one.
“You always lived here?” Harlan asks, his voice like a smooth shot of whiskey as he moves to the tree across the way.
“Um, no, I lived in Ohio but vacationed here every summer growing up. I went to college not far from here and then my cousin and I moved in together.”
“Which one is that?”
“Cousin? Wren. Her brothers are Jesse, Beau, and Lake.”
“Yeah, I met them,” he replies as his tree falls to the ground with an audiblewhoosh, a cloud of white powder glistening in the sunlight. It makes me smile. “You’re really like this all the time, aren’t you?”
I’ve gotten this question a million times in my life, but for some reason, when Harlan asks, I’m not upset by his underlying amusement. It’s honest instead of being cruel.
“I love it here. And I love my family. Things haven’t always been easy, but when I think about summers here, I remember that constant feeling of being on an adventure. Of exploring the land and water, getting dirty, and coming home just before the sunset.” I shrug. “I’ve never been as happy as I am right here.”
“That’s pretty remarkable,” he says, looking surprised. “You make the nostalgia sound romantic.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never had anything that comes close to what you’re describing.”
This time I frown, hating that for him.
I startle when Harlan’s thumb brushes against the corner of my mouth, his skin scorching mine with a single touch.
“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on my lips.
“Do what?” I whisper, trying desperately not to break whatever spell we’re under.
“Frown. It looks so unnatural on you.”
His thumb grazes my bottom lip as I gift him a small smile. His answering one takes my breath away.
It’s stunning.
He’sstunning.
