Page 29 of Love Songs

“I’ll take it,” I said, amused by the expression of shock on Nolan’s face.

I WINCED ATJaylin’s high-pitched scream as she jumped up and down in the small screen on my phone.

“I can really have my own horse?”

“Yes.” Warmth flooding my chest at being able to give her so much joy. “You can have a horse. We’ll need to fix the barn and the fences first, but when everything is ready, we can start looking.”

“Can I have Flicker?”

Flicker was the horse she rode at the stables in upstate New York.

“We’ll have to talk to Carolyn about that,” I said with a smile. “But if she says yes . . .”

She squealed again, and the image on my screen spun like a tilt-o-wheel before going still with a close-up view of the carpet in her bedroom. Before I could panic that she’d hurt herself, Jaylin’s face filled the frame again. Her eyes were wide with excitement.

“Sorry. Dropped my phone.” She sat down on the edge of her bed and started bouncing. Rather, she continued bouncing. I didn’t think she’d stopped since I’d shared the news. “When do we move?”

“Not for a while yet,” I said, my mind racing through all the things that needed to be done before then. “First we have to finalize the paperwork to make it official, and then we have alotof renovations to do before the house is livable again.”

A wave of doubt washed over me, thinking about the overwhelming amount of work that needed to be done. I didn’t know the first thing about renovating, but I knew, deep down in my gut, that this was the right move for us.

We talked for a few more minutes about plans for the house as we watched the walk-thru video I’d taken and found photos online of the house when it had been in better shape. I also hadto convince her the house wasn’t haunted, but she seemed more disappointed than relieved.Kids.

I’d just ended my video call with Jaylin, when my phone pinged with an incoming message. I expected it to be Jay, but my heart did a little hop in my chest when I saw the name on the display.

Conor:Hey. Any chance you’re free to meet up tonight?

Conor:It’s Conor, btw

I chuckled at his second text, and replied right away, because hell yeah, I wanted to meet up.

Me:Sure. How about now? I’m at the inn if you want to meet in the lobby.

Conor:Now is perfect.Be there in ten.

I jumped from the sofa in my suite and checked myself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. I was wearing the same clothes as when I’d run into Conor in town earlier and debated whether I should change my shirt.

“It’s not a date,” I mumbled to my reflection, but I swapped out my T-shirt for a burgundy button down with a paisley pattern. I left the top few buttons open and rolled the sleeves up to my elbows. Running my fingers through my hair, I debated changing back into a T-shirt, but a glance at my watch told me I didn’t have time. I hustled downstairs while my heart galloped ahead of me with anticipation.

True to his word, Conor strolled in ten minutes later. He’d changed out of his station wear and into a pair of well-worn jeans and an old Metallica T-shirt that may or may not have sparked a jolt of jealousy that it wasn’t a Dallas Blade Band shirt but could be forgiven for the way it clung to his muscular chest and biceps. He carried a bag with a logo I recognized from the Stonebridge Maple Farm, where we’d had our charity date the other day, and wore a grin on his face that made my mouth water.

“Are you just off shift now?” I asked when he stopped in front of me. His grin grew into a blinding smile and the heat from his body set all my senses on fire.

“No.” Conor shook his head. “I had a stop to make on the way.”

We stood there, staring at each other for an extended beat. Me studying him, debating if now was too soon to invite him upstairs, while he studied me with a smolder in his eyes that had me wondering if he was thinking the same thing.

“Have you eaten?” I asked, clearing my throat and breaking the moment. “The lounge kitchen is still open.”

“I ate at the station,” he said, his gaze never leaving mine, but then he blinked, and a light blush colored his cheeks. He motioned to the bag in his hand. “I, uh, have something for you.”

“Let’s go sit.” I waved toward the lounge, curious about what he’d brought.

We sat across from each other in a pair of leather club chairs near an old, floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. After placing orders—a ginger tea for me, and a virgin tequila sunrise for him—he slid the bag across the table toward me with a shy sweep of his eyelashes. He bit at his lower lip. In the short time I’d known him, he’d been nothing but confident and self-assured, so to see him uncertain like this piqued my interest.

“What’s this?” I asked, delighted and touched that he’d brought me a gift. I didn’t care what was in the bag, only that he’d thought of me enough to bring me something special meant more than he could possibly know.

I opened the bag and inhaled the sweet aroma of maple syrup. Inside was a package of maple syrup hard candies, and half a dozen maple syrup lollipops.

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