The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (34)

Josh carried a handful of leaves to the hut and served us “venison” for dinner, which lasted thirty seconds before Kyle squeezed his big body through the door.

He leaned in to kiss me. Right? That almost happened. RIGHT?

I exhaled after holding my breath longer than I had ever held it before. When I crawled out and brushed off my backside, Josh grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the water.

“Not too close, buddy,” Kyle said behind us.

When I glanced back at him, he smiled—not an “I almost kissed you smile.” It was a normal smile.

But it happened. Didn’t it?

Suddenly, my song choice seemed irrelevant.

We headed toward the house after throwing a dozen rocks into the creek. Josh alternated between walking and running, keeping ten feet ahead of us the whole way.

I said nothing.

Kyle said nothing.

Nothing was hiding the biggest something ever.

He almost kissed me!

“You need a bath,” Kyle said when we reached the house.

“I want to play with my cars,” Josh protested, climbing the deck stairs.

“Twenty minutes. But then you’re getting a bath.”

“Fine,” Josh grumbled.

“Want something to drink?” Kyle asked me after he reached the top of the stairs.

I stood at the bottom, still in shock.

“Not the kind of drink you’d probably like,” he smirked, “more like 7 Up or Kool-Aid.”

I blinked. “Uh,” I slowly nodded. “Okay.”

He proceeded into the house while I moved like a sloth, which was appropriate because time was different in dreams and illusions, and that’s what I was experiencing.

Right?

“I only have grape Kool-Aid, but if you mix it with 7 Up, it’s pretty good. Can I interest you in Josh’s favorite cocktail?”

“Sure.” I didn’t plan on standing directly behind him, but that’s where I naturally navigated.

So when he turned with two glasses of purple Kool-Aid, I was right there.

He stiffened, eyes wide.

“You almost kissed me,” I whispered.

He squinted. “I did?”

“Yes! You apologized and leaned in to kiss me right before Josh returned to the hut.”

He twisted his lips with a slow nod. “Huh. Well, at least I apologized for it. Here. Tell me what you think.” He handed me the drink and sidestepped to get past me. “You’ll want to insist Josh try going to the bathroom by halftime or before if he grabs his crotch. And if there’s a line, just go behind the bleachers or a tree and let him do his thing. I had hoped he’d be better at holding his bladder by age five, but clearly, he’s not quite there.”

I turned.

Kyle leaned his back against the fridge, legs casually crossed at his ankles while he sipped his drink. “Do you like it?” He nodded toward my glass.

I looked at it as if I was seeing it for the first time before bringing it to my lips for a sip. But I couldn’t taste or feel anything but him.

“Well?”

I licked my lips. “It’s good.”

“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t really like it.”

“I, uh”—I shook my head—“should get home.” I needed to call Erin ASAP. It was an emergency.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few seconds before relinquishing a nod. “Let me give you money now for the concession stand in case I forget tomorrow.” He set his glass on the counter and pulled out his wallet.

I stared at the ten-dollar bill he offered me.

“Eve?”

“Hmm?” I was completely out of it.

“Are you going to take it?”

I slowly nodded without taking the money.

Kyle stepped closer, and I gulped. He slipped the ten-dollar bill into my back pocket, which meant his hand was on my butt.

I blinked heavily, staring at his chest.

After he tucked the money into my pocket, his hand drifted to mine, and the pads of his fingers teased my skin.

I closed my eyes. And just when I no longer felt his touch, he curled a few strands of hair behind my ear, letting the back of his fingers ghost down my neck. Parting my lips, I pulled in a shaky breath, and then his touch disappeared.

“Do you have any questions about Friday night?”

I opened my eyes, shooting my gaze to his as my body warred between chills and melting to the floor. Was he serious? Of course, I had questions. So many questions, but they had nothing to do with the Friday night football game.

“Daddy?” Josh called.

“So, no questions? We’re good?”

My jaw dropped. “Am I good?” Of course, I found my voice when he had to tend to Josh. It was too late to ask why he almost kissed me and touched my hand and neck.

“I mean,” he grinned. “I’m sure you’re good, but I mean are you comfortable watching Josh at the game?”

My brain exploded. What did he say? Was my mind in the gutter thinking that he meant I was good at sex? Or did he mean he knew I was good, as in okay—no questions, mentally stable, capable of walking home?

WHAT DID HE MEAN BY GOOD?!

“I think I hate you,” I said with a steadfast determination to keep a straight face.

“Because you’re Evil Eve,” he said with a wicked grin and a gleam in his eyes.