Read Online Laura's Solo Honeymoon - The Ice Cream Shop Boy #1 (Erotic Romance) by Mimi Strong - Free Book Online
Authors: Mimi Strong
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1: The Country Goddess, Herself
I was hot, and ice cream was on my wish list, the sooner the better.
I'd been in the sleepy little coastal town for a week. It had been raining five out of the last seven days. Some vacation.
In life, things don't always work out as intended. Want to make God laugh? Tell him you have a plan.
Lars and I had booked the trip and the room in the quaint little Bed & Breakfast for our honeymoon, but there I was, alone. Left at the altar. Lars came down with a case of cold feet the morning of our wedding, and I heard from sources both reputable and disreputable that he had a case of hot ass before the day was through. With my bridesmaid. I cried, and I cried some more, and then I stopped crying long enough to get on the plane, alone, and came here.
Stupid Lars. He could have her; she could have him; I was over them both and wished the lovers the best (through gritted teeth.)
That day was my last one there, and I was going to live a little, not sulk in my room with a stack of magazines and a bag full of marshmallow-based snack food.
The sun was out, I was in a fairytale setting full of antique shops, cafes, and all that twee stuff tourists love, and on top of everything, I looked good . All that healthy eating and working out before the wedding had paid off.
I didn't usually wear such bright colors, but I'd borrowed some samples from work, on the premise of research. That day I donned a form-fitting orange-sherbert-hued stretchy dress, my favorite sandals, and headed out to look for adventure. Or at the very least, ice cream.
My destination was the old-fashioned-looking ice cream shop next door to the antique store that specialized in wooden rocking chairs. The ice cream was made fresh, locally, and the staff were equally wholesome—two young men with tousled brown hair, possibly brothers. I'd been in while the younger was getting the older one to buy him beer, and had gathered that one was not yet twenty-one. At twenty-seven, I was a little old for either of them, but their sweet-natured flirtations had been as good as the ice cream. I'd been there nearly every day of my brief stay in town, because those boys made me feel like I might be able to love again.
I walked past the striped awning of the ice cream shop, sneaking a peek, but I lost my nerve to go in and kept walking, on to the antique shop. Inside, surrounded by antiques, the ladies who worked there chatted with me about rocking chairs, and I seriously considering paying to ship one back home. I said I'd think about it, and waved goodbye as I made my way back out the door, the bells on the handle jingling merrily.
I summoned my courage and stopped in next door for my last ice cream.
Elvis was playing on the vintage jukebox.
The ice cream shop was quiet, with no customers but me. The younger brother was the one at work that day, and he stood behind the counter, fastidiously wiping down surfaces, his lean, muscular arms taking my breath away.
“Just a moment,” he said without looking up.
“I'm in no hurry.”
He dropped the cloth in a sink and looked up, a big smile spreading across his face when he saw it was me.
“You're getting to be a regular,” he said. “You might have to move here, ya know?”
I smiled coyly back at him. “I'll talk to the-powers-that-be about opening a branch here.”
He hooked his thumb into the tie of his apron and gazed at me. “Some sort of designer clothing place, right? That's where you work?”
“You remembered.”
His gaze swept over my body, down my bright orange dress, lingering on my hips, then back up again. “Is that, uh, dress from your company?”
“Sure is.”
“It's memorable. And I liked that other one, with the ...” He wiggled his fingers in front of his chest.
I blushed, my cheeks hot from the attention, even though it was exactly what I wanted. “The green dress? With the ruffles down the front? I think I wore that yesterday.”
“Yeah.” Now it was his turn
I was hot, and ice cream was on my wish list, the sooner the better.
I'd been in the sleepy little coastal town for a week. It had been raining five out of the last seven days. Some vacation.
In life, things don't always work out as intended. Want to make God laugh? Tell him you have a plan.
Lars and I had booked the trip and the room in the quaint little Bed & Breakfast for our honeymoon, but there I was, alone. Left at the altar. Lars came down with a case of cold feet the morning of our wedding, and I heard from sources both reputable and disreputable that he had a case of hot ass before the day was through. With my bridesmaid. I cried, and I cried some more, and then I stopped crying long enough to get on the plane, alone, and came here.
Stupid Lars. He could have her; she could have him; I was over them both and wished the lovers the best (through gritted teeth.)
That day was my last one there, and I was going to live a little, not sulk in my room with a stack of magazines and a bag full of marshmallow-based snack food.
The sun was out, I was in a fairytale setting full of antique shops, cafes, and all that twee stuff tourists love, and on top of everything, I looked good . All that healthy eating and working out before the wedding had paid off.
I didn't usually wear such bright colors, but I'd borrowed some samples from work, on the premise of research. That day I donned a form-fitting orange-sherbert-hued stretchy dress, my favorite sandals, and headed out to look for adventure. Or at the very least, ice cream.
My destination was the old-fashioned-looking ice cream shop next door to the antique store that specialized in wooden rocking chairs. The ice cream was made fresh, locally, and the staff were equally wholesome—two young men with tousled brown hair, possibly brothers. I'd been in while the younger was getting the older one to buy him beer, and had gathered that one was not yet twenty-one. At twenty-seven, I was a little old for either of them, but their sweet-natured flirtations had been as good as the ice cream. I'd been there nearly every day of my brief stay in town, because those boys made me feel like I might be able to love again.
I walked past the striped awning of the ice cream shop, sneaking a peek, but I lost my nerve to go in and kept walking, on to the antique shop. Inside, surrounded by antiques, the ladies who worked there chatted with me about rocking chairs, and I seriously considering paying to ship one back home. I said I'd think about it, and waved goodbye as I made my way back out the door, the bells on the handle jingling merrily.
I summoned my courage and stopped in next door for my last ice cream.
Elvis was playing on the vintage jukebox.
The ice cream shop was quiet, with no customers but me. The younger brother was the one at work that day, and he stood behind the counter, fastidiously wiping down surfaces, his lean, muscular arms taking my breath away.
“Just a moment,” he said without looking up.
“I'm in no hurry.”
He dropped the cloth in a sink and looked up, a big smile spreading across his face when he saw it was me.
“You're getting to be a regular,” he said. “You might have to move here, ya know?”
I smiled coyly back at him. “I'll talk to the-powers-that-be about opening a branch here.”
He hooked his thumb into the tie of his apron and gazed at me. “Some sort of designer clothing place, right? That's where you work?”
“You remembered.”
His gaze swept over my body, down my bright orange dress, lingering on my hips, then back up again. “Is that, uh, dress from your company?”
“Sure is.”
“It's memorable. And I liked that other one, with the ...” He wiggled his fingers in front of his chest.
I blushed, my cheeks hot from the attention, even though it was exactly what I wanted. “The green dress? With the ruffles down the front? I think I wore that yesterday.”
“Yeah.” Now it was his turn
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