 by Kaylee Ryan.jpg)
Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
From the moment I see her, I’m hooked. There’s just something about Crosby that has me eager to know her. One thing’s for sure, I can’t stay away from the new kindergarten teacher with the kind smile and secrets in her brown eyes.
There’s no hiding in a small town, and she’s suddenly everywhere. My family loves her, my niece won’t stop talking about her, and I…well, I just want to make her mine.
Crosby is everything I didn’t know I was looking for, but the wall she keeps up makes it impossible to love her the way I want to. I have to figure out how to tear it down, and fast— because she’s not so sure she’s sticking around, and I’m not prepared to let her walk away from Willow River… or me.
Crosby
Another new town, another new school. But this time I’m not the struggling new kid; I’m the teacher. It’s hard to let go of my past, when it refuses to let go of me. I live in a constant state of unease, never knowing what the future holds. Especially when it comes to love.
Rushton isn’t like other guys. He’s open and honest. What you see is what you get. He’s made his intentions very clear. But I’m afraid getting involved only spells heartbreak for both of us. If growing up in foster care taught me anything, it’s not to get too close and definitely don’t get comfortable.
So, I learned to be good at goodbye. But for the first time in my life, I’ve found a place I want to put down
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER
ONE
Rushton
I’m putting on my shoes to head out when my phone rings. When I see Sterling’s name on the screen, I laugh. “I’m on my way,” I answer.
“Can you stop and get some fishing line?”
“Are we going fishing and someone forgot to tell me?” I know that’s not why he needs it, but as his brother, it’s my job to fuck with him.
“It’s for the pictures, Rush.” He sighs. “Just hurry. I want everything done before she gets here.”
Since I can hear the stress in his voice, I cut him some slack. “I’m putting my shoes on now.” I glance down at said shoes.
“Thanks, man.”
“Anything else you need?”
“Nah. The twins are here, and everyone else is on their way.”
“Got it. Fishing line coming right up.” I end the call, not bothering to say goodbye. Not that Sterling notices. He’s so wrapped up in what he’s about to do later this evening and the surprise he has for his best friend turned live-in girlfriend to call me out on my lack of telephone etiquette.
I finish with my shoes, grab my phone from the cushion next to me, and head for the garage. My keys are on the hook next to the door, and in no time, I’m on the road, heading to Gunderson’s hardware for some fishing line.
Gunderson’s is the place in Willow River for anything you might need. From road trip snacks to small tools to bolts and zip ties. They even have homemade baked goods that a few locals drop off for sale. It truly is the place to be if you need something in this town.
The drive is short, and that’s with me taking my time. I know it will annoy Sterling. I can’t hide my smile when I think about his huff of irritation that I’m sure he’s going to direct my way. I get it. He’s making moves, big moves, and he wants his surprise to be perfect, but Alyssa is going to be occupied all day. The other Kincaid ladies will make sure of it. He needs to just relax. It’s not like she’s going to turn him down.
Pulling open the door to Gunderson’s, I’m hit with nostalgia. I don’t know how many trips we made here as kids with Dad. He was always tinkering with something or working on his honey-do list for our mom. Gunderson’s has been a staple not only in the town of Willow River but in my life as well.
“Rushton Kincaid,” George Gunderson announces as I step inside.
“George, good to see you.” I nod at him. George is a third-generation Gunderson, and it’s always his smiling face behind the counter with each visit. His son, George the fourth, is sure to take his place one day.
I’m glad our parents gave us our own names and identities. I couldn’t imagine any of us being Raymond Kincaid the second. Besides, with nine boys, they needed more options.
I know this place probably as well as George himself, so I turn left and head toward the back wall, where I’ll find a selection of a fishing line. When I reach the wall, I encounter something so much better than what I came here for.
A beautiful woman.
She’s got dark, straight shoulder-length hair, and from the looks of her ass in those jeans, a tight little body. She’s reaching for the top shelf, standing on her tiptoes, and making no headway.
“Need some help?” I ask, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out for her. I’m nervous she’s going to topple over with the way she’s balancing on her toes and reaching over her head.
The beauty falls to her feet and turns to face me. She blows out a breath, causing her hair to fly out of her eyes. “Yes, please.” She smiles kindly.
Her smile is meant to be kind, but it hits me in the chest. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a more beautiful woman. I’ve seen many—my momma for one—and my brothers’ wives and girlfriends are all beautiful, but this woman, she’s breathtaking.
“What do you need?” There is a huskiness to my voice that surprises me.
“Fishing line.”
“You fish?” I ask, not making a move to grab the line.
She chuckles. “No, well, I mean, I have, but that’s not why I need it. I’m a teacher, and I plan to use it to hang my students’ crafts from the ceiling in my classroom.”
My mind is suddenly riddled with a naughty student-teacher scene that is definitely not safe for work.
“A teacher,” I repeat, because apparently, in the presence of this beauty, my mind stops working.
She nods, a smile lifting her lips. I know because I’m staring at them, imagining how they would feel wrapped around my cock. “Kindergarten.”
“Y’all need some help?” George’s voice breaks me out of my fantasy.
“Nah, we’re all set,” I call back to him. I turn to look, and he nods, heading back to his spot behind the counter. “Which one?” I ask the woman turning me into my teenage self. I point to the fishing line.