"Sure, it'll be great, they said. Get out of town, they said. You work too hard. You'll enjoy it, they said, winking and smirking to themselves while my admin was busy cancelling the rest of my meetings. Cool weather. Long walks. S'mores."

They didn't say anything about lying at the bottom of a ravine, coated in mud and talking to myself.

"Great. I'm lying here, coated in mud and talking to myself."

I tried to sit up, but either I'd broken all the bones in my torso or I was tangled up in the brambles. Or undergrowth. Or whatever the heck they called this stinging needle crap out here.

Moreover, they had the unmitigated gall to call this dump a resort. "The only thing that would get me to come back is if they offered nightly turn down service with someone to read me a dirty bedtime story and let me ride his beard so I could be asleep by nine."

The brambles-slash-undergrowth-slash-stinging nettles rustled and I wasn't sure if I was praying for it to be a carnivorous animal to put me out of my misery or for it to be what was left of my mental fortitude flying away for greener pastures.

A figure emerged. I looked up. And up. And up. Until I reached the most masculinely feral grin I'd ever seen.

"I reckon I can be over 'bout 8:30 for turn down and ride service..."

He's a Tall Drink of Water can be read as a standalone or with the rest of the Local Honey series, coming soon:

Book One: He's a Tall Drink of Water

Book Two: He Really Melts My Butter

Book Three: She's Cool as a Cucumber

Book Four: She Really Takes the Cake

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