Coast to Coast

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Chapter 21

Cheyenne

“Can you imagine travelling around in that old beater?” Abe commented.

“Not after camping in the Cadillac of RVs,” I laughed as we walked past the old blue pickup truck with a camper on the back. “A lot of people do though. I’ve seen a few like that. In fact, I swear I’ve seen that exact one at a couple parks we’ve been at.”

“Hm. I suppose that’s possible.”

A stocky, muscular man came out of the campground office just as we reached the door. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes, his ball cap pulled down over his face as he hurried away. I glanced back just in time to see him jump in the old truck that Abe and I made fun of. He lifted his head, and for a split-second, I thought he was staring right at me. Of course, I couldn’t be sure with his dark glasses. A shiver rippled up my spine as I turned away and followed Abe into the building.




“You are such a cheater,” Abe muttered, shaking his head as we strolled down the gravel road toward our campsite. The tall pine trees provided much-needed shade on a scorching July afternoon.

“I am not. How is it my fault that you spun out?”

“Because you ran me right off the damn go-kart track! That’s against the rules.”

“Is that so?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips as I waited for him to unlock the door. “Then why didn’t I get kicked out?”

“Because of these,” he said, cupping my breasts in his hands. “The guy didn’t stop staring at them the entire time he was giving you shit.”

“That is so not what happened!” I laughed, pushing past him and entering the RV.

“That is exactly what happened and you know it.” He cornered me in the kitchen, bracing his hands on the counter top on either side of me as he boxed me in. “Now, the next question is, what am I going to do about it? You need to be punished.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on, big boy.”

“Later. Right now, we have a date at Santa’s Village.”

“How convenient,” I taunted. “All talk, no action.”

“You just wait until tonight, you disobedient little vixen,” he growled as he brought his mouth to my neck, sucking hard.

“Stop,” I hissed. “You’re not giving me another hickey. I can still see the last one. It’s a pain to keep covering it with makeup.”

“You don’t like my love bites?” He stuck out his lower lip.

“Yes. But do it where nobody can see them.”

“All right!” He smiled like a kid in a candy store as he pushed my top up, unhooking my bra before latching onto one of my tits. When he was satisfied his work was done, he lifted in head with a sexy smirk.

“Now can we go to Santa’s Village?” I asked, ducking under his arm and heading to the bedroom.

“Yes. Let’s do it.”

“Hey, have you seen my red, lacy thong?” I asked as I rooted through my underwear drawer. “I wanna feel Christmassy.”

“A thong reminds you of Christmas?” He tilted his head, cocking one eyebrow as a curious grin spread across his lips.

“The red colour, not the thong, silly.”

“Ahh, I see,” he chuckled. “Actually, I’m lying. I don’t get it. But if it makes you feel Christmassy, fill your boots.”

“Did you put it in your drawer by mistake?”

“Hm. Well, I do own a lot of red thongs. So it could have easily gotten mixed in with my underwear.”

“Very funny. Can you look?”

“Yes,” he sighed, pulling open the top drawer of his dresser. “Nope. No thongs in here. Sorry, baby.”

“I wonder where it went.”

“It probably got left in a dryer somewhere by accident.”

“Maybe,” I said quietly, rifling through my other drawers.

“If it doesn’t turn up, I’ll buy you a new one,” he promised, pulling me into his arms. “I’ll buy you a whole set. Every colour in the rainbow.”

“Okay, Mr. Money Bags. I’m gonna hold you to that.” I stood on my tiptoes and brushed my lips against his. “Let’s go be kids.”




Every teenager should spend a day at Santa’s Village as a requirement for sex education class. Screaming kids hyped up on sugar, strollers everywhere, frazzled parents. I couldn’t think of any better deterrent to sex.

“Well, I think I’ve had my fill,” I said, turning around and gunning for the exit.

“Get back here,” Abe said, grabbing my arm. “It’s not that bad.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “It’s chaos.”

“Yeah. But it’s fun to watch.”

“You enjoy being around screaming kids?”

“I like kids, Cheyenne,” he stated, tugging on my wrist. “C’mon. Let’s jump on The Candy Cane Express.

After we boarded the train, Abe slid his arm around my waist and pressed his lips to the top of my head. He was such a sweet guy underneath that indifferent playboy facade. A wall he’d built around his heart to avoid relationships. And I felt like I was slowly chipping away at it. He told me he loved me. That was huge. But it hadn’t escaped me that he still hadn’t made any type of commitment to me beyond the end of the trip.

“Do you like kids, babe?” he whispered.

“I like them. In small doses.” I smiled up at him.

“It’ll be different when you have kids of your own,” he said, tucking my hair behind my ear.

He cleared his throat, swallowing hard before he spoke again. “I was convinced I never wanted kids. Not because I didn’t like them. Because of my parents’ shitty marriage. I would never want to bring children into the world unless I could give them a happy, stable life. I kept women at a distance to ensure I didn’t fall in love. And I always wore a condom, even if she said she was on the pill. Then you came along and tore down the walls I’d built, before I even realized what was happening. I broke all my rules with you, Cheyenne.”

“What are you saying?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“I’m saying that I want you, Cheyenne. Not just for a few weeks. I want you in my life. I want it all. Marriage, kids, the white picket fence and the minivan. All of it. With you, baby.”

“You barely know me,” I squeaked.

“I don’t think that’s true,” he said. “But we’re young. There’s no hurry to do those things. I just wanted to let you know how I felt, and make sure you want the same things. Someday.”

I gazed up into the gorgeous blue eyes of the man I loved. “I’m the luckiest woman in the world. I love you, Abraham. And I want that life that you described. With you.”

He kissed me softly. “I bet all our kids will have blonde hair and blue eyes.”

“How many kids are we talking?” I asked with a nervous laugh.

“At least four. Maybe more.”

Four? Or more?” I stared at him, my mouth hanging open.

“You’re a tough farm girl,” he laughed, tousling my hair. “It’s in your genes. Don’t farm women, like, squat in the barn, give birth, and then go back to milking cows and cooking dinner with the baby strapped to their back?”

“First of all, that’s African women. Secondly, I don’t want to live on a farm. And thirdly,” I paused when I saw his lips curling up in an amused grin, his baby blues twinkling. “Never mind.”

“I’m just teasing you, sweetheart. All our babies will be born in a hospital, with lots of drugs and whatever else you need.”

I snuggled against his strong chest with a soft sigh. Safe in the arms of the man who loved me. The man that wanted to have a life with me. It was a dream come true.

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