Page 92 of Love Bound

"Besides, you built a hot tub." We've had several evenings in the tub, including one sleepless night when we were both restless. And one great, wet, sloppy, funny, and sexy morning. "That's plenty."

"That's for The Inn. You just get to come and play in it." He pauses then stands and extends a hand to pull me up "Okay. I actually have another idea. It would be all your money."

Oh my god. He still wants to buy the land from me.

"And it’s not the land. Good grief, can I read you or what?" he says.

Yes. You can.

Grinning, he grabs my hand and hauls me to my feet. "Ready for a little hike?"

"I have to get my shoes first."

***

We take off down the little dirt road in the direction of the forest, not the town. In a quarter of a mile, Finn breaks us off onto a thin trail.

"This is going to be buggy," he says batting at a mosquito.

"And probably full of ticks," I add.

"Not helpful."

I should have brought spray. I knew better; he didn’t.

"Where are we going?" I ask, noticing that the trail has been hacked back—and not by deer. I'm looking at someone's handiwork as we make our way through the woods. Someone with a pair of nippers.

"Devon and Laurel keep telling me about this Christmas tree plot back here."

I stop. "It’s a mess. It's just a mess."

He turns and takes my hand again. "Come on."

I remain standing in place. "I haven’t been out here since my mom and dad died. That was the year we finished planting all of them."

"I know. Do you know how many trees you can plant on an acre?"

I do. "One thousand and seven."

He stares at me.

I shrug. "That was Travis's seven."

"Speedy guy. That's all he managed to plant?"

"He was like ten."

Finn picks up his question again. "No. I mean, do you know how many you could plant?"

Again, my shoulders hitch up. "I have no idea."

"Fifteen hundred."

"Good God." I can see more sunlight filtering up ahead and realize we must be closer to the field of trees. It seemed much farther away a decade and a half ago. I guess I'd been dealing with Travis and the bugs.

"Look," he says and I'm staring at a pretty tidy field of somewhat straight rows of Christmas trees.

Someone’s trimmed them up, making them ready for harvest.