Summer Love in the Country (Summer Instalove)

As Dean turned another corner, the golden fields switched to acres upon acres of greenery.

“Wow,” I breathed. “It’s so beautiful out here.”

I glanced over to see Dean giving me a strange smile. “It really is,” he said. “That’s

something I’m not sure if you’ll get used to. I usually run deliveries to the city once a week, but it’s always a relief to get back out here.”

I appreciated the way he didn’t pronounce ‘city’ like a dirty word. I’d known some people

from the country who couldn’t stand the city, and vice versa. There should be room in a

person’s mind for variety, as well as personal preference.

The truck bounced a bit as he took another corner, causing me to gasp in surprise. Dean

chuckled. “Sorry about that. There was a storm two nights ago, and the rough spots have

shifted. I have to relearn where they all are.”

“I guess things really change with the weather out here,” I said, staring out the dusty

windshield as a cluster of buildings grew closer.

“Don’t worry, most of the storms aren’t too bad. There are only a handful of big trees near the buildings, so there’s not much that can snap off. It does get windy as hell though, so

when you feel a storm coming, gather your tools and head indoors quickly.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “You can feel a storm coming? Is that like the old stories of

grandpa’s knee starting to ache before there’s an earthquake?”

Dean shot me a grin as he pulled into the driveway, rolling up beside a long, low building

next to a giant farmhouse. “Don’t worry, city girl. You’ll learn to smell the rain before it hits you.”

Another warm prickle ran through me from the way he spoke. He was so comfortable.

Natural. One of those confident men who could just take care of everything. It was

reassuring, but it also made it hard to stop staring at his beautiful eyes.

He jumped out of the truck and had darted around to my side before I could even get the

door completely open. He took my hand to help me jump down – such an innocent gesture,

but I was so inexperienced with men that even holding his hand for a few seconds made my

belly twitch.

Shutting the door behind me, Dean grabbed my suitcase and led me to the third door of the

strange plain building that looked rather like a motel.

Walking right in, he set my suitcase on the bed, then took a small lanyard from a hook on

the wall. “The silver key is for this room,” he explained, “And the brass key is for the front door of the farmhouse. That door should never be locked, but sometimes you urban folks

are accidentally on autopilot,” he laughed.