Page 42 of Raised On It

We sat at a little picnic bench outside a red-roofed walk-up-only burger joint and stared at each other while slurping the sugary bliss through our straws. We didn’t say much. Couldn’t really as those milkshakes were thick as molasses.

It was like living out a scene from a movie where the two star-crossed lovers each have a straw in the milkshake and smile at eachother as their faces come close together. The only difference is neither of us like each other enough to share a milkshake. I mean, that’s next level relationship stuff right there.

Journal, I really want to get to that kind of next level with him, but I’m only here for a little while, and my life is in New York. Nothing can come of this. No matter how good it feels or how badly I want him, in the end, Miles and I simply don’t work.

If only that weren’t the case.

Miles was acting so dang dreamy there was a moment when I was thinking how much like a movie this seemed, and I actually giggled out loud. His mouth was occupied and spared me from all his usual silly comments, but it doesn’t mean his eyes didn’t speak a thousand words while his eyebrows asked a million questions.

There was no hiding from his eyes, and his what’s so funny look makes me giggle all over again.

After days of nonstop talking—granted, mostly on his side—it was interesting how compatible things continued to feel even when we weren’t in deep conversation. It was one of the best hours I’ve ever spent, and all we did was drink strawberry shakes.

Yes, out of all the flavors Tom’s offers, we both got strawberry because well, it’s our favorite. What can I say? We both have great taste.

He dropped me off today like he has every day with a peck on the cheek after walking me to the front door.

Always leaving me wanting more.

He’s no fool. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Even though he leaves me pining for more, he and the entire town are also providing piles of inspiration, and I’m writing at a ferocious pace.

I decided to go to The Jury Room for dinner, and that’s where I ran into Emmett and Rachel. When they told me that Ken, the foreman at the farm, had welcomed a son earlier in the week and that Miles was working around the clock so he could take time off to be with his family, I fell ever harder.

I knew he had meetings, knew things were crazy with harvest seasonin full swing, but I had no idea the small blocks of time he’s been taking off to spend with me were his only breaks.

Miles Montgomery is turning out to be quite special. Like one of my leading men come to life. However, most of my characters also have that one big fatal flaw that gets in the way of everything and causes heartbreak for my heroines.

If I let Miles write our story, will I be left at some point trying to mend my own broken heart?

Will my life imitate art?

CHAPTER 13

Mason

Dear Journal,

Miles Montgomery has me hook,line, and sinker.

I’m done!

Waving the white flag.

I surrender.

No man has ever made such a sincere effort to get to know me.

To spend time with me.

To keep his promise and to make my day. Every. Single. Day.

Late last night, I got a text from him telling me not to plan any of my meals for today and that he hoped I didn’t mind an early morning breakfast.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep at all. My mind was too preoccupied with what my day would consist of and who would be pickingme up for a sunrise breakfast. He said not to worry about getting dressed, and that we wouldn’t be going anywhere. I thought he must have been bringing coffee and donuts, which would have been fine by me, but of course, he surprised me yet again.

He arrived with Lou at his feet and a grocery bag under his arm. When he read my shirt that said Just One More Chapteron it, he said he liked it, but my Romance Writers Do It Betterwas his favorite. He loved that his comment made me roll my eyes because this means he had the effect he intended to, and the victory was all his.