Page 15 of Wrath's Nightingale
“Made with wild blueberries from our own farm in Maine,” Micah says.
“You have a place in Maine?”
“In Roque Bluffs,” Brian supplies.
Millie
After everyone is full, we clean up and head to the garage. The guys are dying to show Wrath the bikes and dirt track we have. I have to say I haven’t been riding inforever. I might be a little rusty, but I’m all for it.
Wrath slips his hand in mine as we walk to the garage.
“It’s a beautiful place.”
“I can’t wait to show you more. The dirt track and the trails. There’s a lake that’s a thirty-minute ride from the barn. We could go sometime if you want to see it?”
“I’d love to Nightingale. I’ll make us lunch or dinner if your mom doesn’t mind me in the kitchen.”
“My kitchen is your kitchen,” Lisa says from my left.
When we get to the bike garage, the guys immediately start talking bikes. It takes Wrath about five minutes to notice the pink motocross bike. He turns and looks at me.
“You ride?”
I smile at him. “I do. It’s been a few years, though.”
“Will you go riding with us?” Tyler asks.
“I will. Some of the time. I figure you guys might want to have some testosterone time at some point,” I say with a laugh.
Everyone chuckles.
Sometime later, Wrath and I walk hand in hand into the cottage. Our suitcases and belongings are nowhere to be found on the main floor. I make my way wearily up the stairs, happy to see the closet open and our clothes hanging it in.
“Someone unpacked our stuff?” Wrath asks.
“Likely Mom and Micah. While Dad and Tyler went to the barn with us. I’m thrilled. I’m way too tired to do anything but brush my teeth, strip my clothes, and sleep.”
“I second that motion,” Wrath says.
Chapter 9
Wrath
We spend the first two days on the family farm, as Millie calls it. Yesterday, we raced around their dirt tracks for hours. My Nightingale blew me away. She beat us all in the best of five races. Her brothers and I, being gracious losers, made dinner for everyone. And we cleaned up.
This morning, the two of us are headed into little Nashville to play tourist. I go to the bike garage to get my sled. I moved in there the same night we arrived before we turned in for the evening.
I park the sled in front of the cottage and head inside to retrieve my woman. She comes bouncing down the stairs as I open the door. Millie is wearing form fitting jeans, boots and a t-shirt that shows off her ample cleavage without being obscene.
The shirt said, ‘Hills O’ Brown’. A local slogan, perhaps, since we’re in Brown County. I whistled low before bringing up the pitch.
“Damn, baby. You look good in those jeans.”
She laughs. “You’ve seen me in jeans before.”
I nod my head. “Yup. You looked good then, too.”
Millie crosses the room, stands and her tiptoes, and gives me a quick kiss. “I’m excited to show you around my little town. I know it’s set up for tourists, but I think you’ll love it. I’ll show you some of my favorite shops and we’ll eat at like a dozen places.”