Page 25 of Raised On It (Between the Pines #1)

Miles

T his morning has been a cluster.

I’m off my game and all spun up for some reason.

I spent breakfast stammering over myself and talking a mile a minute like a virginal teenager asking a girl to go steady for the first time.

What was I thinking telling her about the crackle?

I’ve gone mad.

Now I’m sitting in my truck outside her place bracing myself for what? I have no idea.

One thing I do know is I’m scared shitless of the impact Mason has on me without even trying. Does she have any clue she holds my future in her hands?

I left her a little over an hour ago so she could get ready for the day, and I could switch trucks, feed Lou, and take a shower.

Enduring a night under the sheets with Mason but not actually sealing the deal left me no option but to take care of myself in the shower.

I’d had a semi since she kissed me at The Jumps, and even after yanking my own chain in the shower, nothing has changed.

I have a permanent semi, and my heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my damn chest.

This damn woman is something else.

Never known anyone like her.

And she wants me.

A simple farm boy from Oregon.

It’s stupid to be stressed about today. To most women, it would be the piece of me that attracts them to begin with. It’s something I’m proud of, but to some, it becomes all they see.

I’ve purposely waited as long as I could for today. Not because I’m playing games, but because I needed to know she saw me. For me. And I’d say she made it perfectly clear last night that this local farm boy was more than enough for her.

I’m making this a bigger deal than it needs to be.

I know this. But when it comes to my city mouse, every single thing matters.

I mean, she got out of bed last night slipped on my shirt and snuck into the kitchen to put out a bowl of water for Lou and then shared half her breakfast with him this morning. She’s special.

All week long, I’ve done my best to act casual like I’m simply showing her around town.

But on the inside, I’ve been holding what breath she hasn’t completely stolen from me already and hoping if she saw my relationships with the people in town, it would show her I’m more than the local man-whore.

More than my family business. I want her to see how much this community and the farm mean to me and need her to love Eastlyn as much as I do. Praying she might just love me too.

Finally manning up, I leave the security of my truck, but before I’m close enough to knock, the door swings open, and there is an angel standing in front of me.

If I ever doubted there was a higher power out there, she would be proof of their existence.

It’s as if God sent her straight from heaven, right to me .

“You are fucking beautiful.”

“You like?” she asks, lifting one of her sun-kissed shoulders while acting coy because she knows she looks good.

“Babe, you know I do. What do you call this? A onesie?”

I tug on the shorts of her one-piece floral outfit, showing off her tan legs that seem to go on forever.

“Be nice. It’s called a romper.”

“Well, it works.”

When I bend down to kiss her, she presses herself against me while she slides her hands into the pockets of my shorts like we’d been doing this for a lifetime. Like a small kiss could never be enough.

“It feels like you were gone for days. Was it really just an hour?”

There’s no way she can’t feel what she does to me as close as she is to me.

“I missed you too.”

Feeling her smile against my lips is my new favorite thing. Okay, one of many new favorite things, but this one is near the very top.

“Ready?”

“Can’t wait to see where we’re going.” She closes the door behind her and links our hands. “So are we about to add pages to my journal?”

“Well, I’m hoping after last night, you would have had enough to fill the one you’ve got going. My plan is to buy you a case of the damn things, and if all goes to plan, I’ll be providing you with plenty to fill the pages with. I’d love to be the reason you have to keep buying new ones.”

“You’re doing a pretty good job so far.”

“Glad to hear it.”

I open her door, and she places a peck on my cheek on her way in the truck, branding me with her lips.

Once the truck's engine roars to life, so does the anxiousness in my belly. I take her hand in mine, pulling away from the curb, and we’re off.

“Thanks for taking me out in Betsy yesterday. I mean, this truck is nice too, but Betsy has seen things. I could feel it.”

God, she’s perfect.

My anxiousness is being overpowered by the excitement I’ve had brewing as I’ve waited for this day. Every word, every action of hers is easing my mind, and she doesn’t have a clue.

“You have no idea the things my girl, Betsy, has seen. That old truck went through it all with me growing up. I drove her to school, to the farm, to The Jumps. There were make-out sessions in the cab and chairs set up in the bed for those nights we made the trek to the nearest drive-in movie theater.”

“I bet you broke some hearts in her too.”

“Never intentionally, but you’re right, there may have been a tear or two shed.

She’s also where I sought solace when I found out my grandma Mary had passed away.

I wanted to be strong for my mom and would only let myself break down with Betsy.

She got me through some of the hardest times of my life and some of the best.”

“Well, I can see why you love her.”

“Glad you like her because she’s not going anywhere. That’s one of the things about having a large piece of land that’s nice. One of the first things I did when I bought the place was build an out-building where I could keep her nice and safe along with my other toys.”

“Other toys?”

“Oh, yes. I have toys.”

And what I wouldn’t give to see you straddling more than one of them.

“Look at that smile. Boys and their toys.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “So, tell me, what have you got hidden away that’s putting a smile like that on your face?”

“Nothing too fancy. Just some ATVs and my boats. ”

“Did you say boats? As in more than one? EBC must pay good money for those hops.”

“Well, you’ve got to have your fishing boat for those quiet mornings on the lake with Dad and Pops. But you need the big pontoon boat for those days full of fun, sun, beer, and friends. And of course, the jet boat for skiing and wakeboarding. They each serve their own purpose.”

“I see.” Her fingers gently glide through my hair. “Is the fishing boat for boys only?”

“Nah, all are welcome. Why, you want to go fishing?”

“Miles, I want to experience everything that makes you tick.”

And I’m done.

For the love of all that is holy, as if I hadn’t already fallen so hard there is no way in hell I’m ever getting back up—wouldn’t want to—she says something like that.

“Gorgeous, not sure if you’ve noticed, but you make me tick. Everything about you. You are absolutely astoundingly gorgeous, and that’s not even the most interesting thing about you.”

“Miles…”

“It’s true. I know we’ve been on the Miles Montgomery tour for the past week or two, but it’s because I’d do anything to spend more time with you. Every day, hell, every minute I discover something new about you that makes me want you that much more.”

“What are you talking about?” she all but whispers.

“Where do I even begin? I love to hear you talk about your writing and how passionate you are about not only your process but the entire industry. I love that you don’t care what other people think, and you just do your own thing.

I swear you know more about beer, wine, and tequila than anyone I know, and I know people, Mason.

” She giggles from across the cab. “Don’t even get me started on how smart you are.

So much smarter than I could ever hope to be.

We can talk about anything and everything.

You’re business savvy. You have strong opinions that are all your own and that make you who you are.

I love that you love the overstuffed chair in the back corner of Brass Tacks, and when there’s someone else in your spot, your lower lip pops out like a little kid.

And you have awesome statement clothes that crack me up.

Not to mention, you love my dog, and he loves you right back. ”

Taking a peek at her out of the corner of my eye, she appears dumbfounded.

I do believe I’ve rendered her speechless.

Good.

She needs to realize what’s happening here is the real deal. I’ve heard enough about her leaving and this being a temporary thing.

Minutes later, we’ve arrived.

This is it.

“Yes! I can’t believe I haven’t been here yet,” she says, gazing up at the Eastlyn Brewing Company sign above the large brick building.

“You had me so busy with all the old-school parts of Eastlyn that I forgot all about the big tourist hot spot! Are you trying to butter me up before you show me whatever it is you still need to show me?”

“Nope, no buttering you up. Shall we?”

I walk around the truck, but she looks at me with concern wrinkling her forehead and looking adorable as she scans the nearly empty parking lot. “Miles, I don’t think they’re open yet. It’s 10:30 on a Sunday morning.”

“Come on.”

Taking my hand, she slides out of the truck and follows my lead. When we reach the big black doors with a ten-foot version of the EBC logo on them, I take out my keys and open the doors.

“Uh, Miles…”

“Welcome to Eastlyn Brewing Company.”

“What?”

“Come on. The team should be preparing for the lunch rush that will start in another hour or so, and I’d like you to show you around.”

“What in the world is happening right now?”

Ignoring her question, I walk us through the front doors and then lock them behind us.

Things are pretty quiet, but I can hear activity in the tasting room, and the lights are on back in the pub.

“Miles, is that your dad? Wait, is that you?”

She’s spied the pictures on the wall. I stand and wait for her to connect the dots on her own.