My Wildest Dreams

Chapter Two

Harper's POV:

Word of my upcoming meeting with Dawson spread around town like wildfire, reminding me that while the town might be slow paced, the gossip mill sure worked at break-neck speed courtesy of Mrs. Dunlow I was sure. She was a sweet old lady but she was also one of the biggest gossips in the town. And if the way she practically ran out of the shop -something that was pretty amazing since she was nearing 80 and had two bad hips- it's a wonder that I hadn't been bombarded with ladies just wanting the lowdown on what was happening in my life, even if it was none of their business. Not that that had ever stopped anyone in Woodington from knowing everything about everyone. As it was, every client that did come in for the rest of the day had the same questions.

What do you think he wants?

Do you think that this means you two will end up back together?

Are you fine with his reputation as a ladies man?

I didn't want their questions to give me a spark of hope but I would be lying if I said that I wasn't asking myself the same ones inside my head. The hopeless romantic inside of me could see a whole rom-com scene playing out -him coming in, sweeping me off my feet, telling me that he loved me and always did, the two of us falling head over heels in love all over again- but I also knew that was the type of thing that happened in the movies, not in real life. No one that I knew had ever had something as cliche as any of that happen to them. The closest thing to something that was even remotely close to something like that happening was an old story that Mrs. Byrum had told for years and years that no one knew for sure whether it was true or not. According to her, she had met her husband at a train depot when he was on the way to base during World War II and she was on the way back to college. She claimed that it had been love at first sight. According to her, Mr. Byrum had showed up in his dress blues at her dorm -flowers in hand- and told her that her face had been what he pictured when he thought that he was going to be killed in action just before he dragged her into his arms and kissed her to within an inch of her life. And as she liked to say anytime she retold that story "the rest is history". If you asked me the whole thing sounded too much like a Nicholas Sparks book to me. But who was I to judge? It was a different time then so many men really did make grand gestures to profess their love for the woman that held their heart.

I was so lost in my thoughts that when the bell rang over the door, it nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning in the direction of the door, I locked eyes with Dawson. Just as it did before, my heart began to race. Maybe it meant that there was something wrong with me but I don't think that I have ever seen a man that looked bad while covered in grime from the day. Especially when that grim consisted of oil and dirt from where they had been working on a piece of equipment. Some girls wanted a man that was clean cut, that was scared to roll his sleeves up and get his hands dirty. But me? There was just something that was undeniably sexy about a man that wasn't scared to work with his hands. Add in the fact that that man was Dawson Harris -who had been sexier than homemade sin in high school but was now even sexier as a full grown man- and it did crazy things to you like make you want to jump his bones and forget that you weren't that type of girl.

"Sorry I'm so dirty. I got caught up working on the combine for Dad. You know how it is." said Dawson, misreading the look on my face. Not that I was complaining at all. The last thing I wanted was for him to be able to read my thoughts at that very moment.

"I do." I said, propping the broom I had been using against the wall. Turning so that he couldn't see the blush that was slowly creeping up my face, I walked over to the chair by the wash bowl and patted it. "Come on. We'll get your hair cleaned before I cut it."

Unable to help myself, I watched Dawson's loose hipped swagger as he walked across the hardwood floor of my shop.Kids today would describe his walk as a BDE -big dick energy- one and I could vouch for that. Well, I could vouch for the fact that 18 years old he was what I considered big. In fact, he was bigger than my last boyfriend who thought his little 3-inch tic tac was the most pleasurable thing on the planet, always saying that he had the motion of the ocean in his hips so God didn't bless him with a huge cock; he claimed they were only for the people that didnt know how to use what was gave to them.