ABIGAIL’S POV

I took him on a tour of the old farmhouse, telling him about the stories behind some of the photos on the walls along with some of the rooms. He seemed to keep interested, which God only knew how. I know I would have gotten bored, but I wasn’t him.

“Then we reach where you’re staying.” I smiled and stood outside his bedroom’s door.

“Thanks for the tour,” John smiled and took my hand in his.

“Better not be making moves on my big ...