Lovelight Farms

“This is fucking adorable,” Beckett mutters, almost angrily. He twists his baseball hat around backward and folds his arms over his chest. “What are we supposed to do with them?”

I don’t know how I kept my hands to myself for so long.

I press my fingers under my eyes, forgetting that one hand is still clutching a piece of zucchini bread. There’s an obvious answer here. It just—it scares me to death. “There it is,” Beckett mutters, and it takes every fiber of my being not to hurl this bread at his face. “It just hit her.” “I don’t know why you’re freaking out. It’s a simple solut

I nod and give them the abbreviated version of events. That he told me he loved me, and we argued. My conversation with Evelyn in the fields and the video she showed me. “It shouldn’t have taken a video for you to realize,” Beckett says, squeezing out a bit of the donut filling onto his finger. Layla snatches that away from him too. “He’s been show

“This,” he says quietly. “This is what partners do.”

“I’ve got some data points for you,” I tell him, voice wobbling at the edges. “After that day you took me to get a grilled cheese, I thought about your smile every time I walked past the hardware store. I still think about your smile every time I walk past the hardware store. I get heavy whipping cream when I go to the grocery store because you tol

Every man I have ever dated has complained about the number of pillows I keep on my bed. But not Luka. Tonight before he collapsed into an exhausted heap, he muttered a quiet “Fuck yeah” before smothering himself with a cozy chenille. He was asleep in less than thirty seconds.

“Well, I mean, not specifically grinding against you in bed,” he says quickly, and then pauses, tilting his head back and forth in consideration. “Actually, I guess, yeah. Specifically grinding against you in bed.” He gives me a cheeky smile, color rising in his cheeks.

He shifts his head to look at me and pats his leg once. I arch an eyebrow. “What?” “What do you mean, what? Come here.”