The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (40)

I snorted.

“Whatever you do, you have to call me as soon as it’s over and tell me everything.”

“Good idea. I’ll ask to use his phone while he discards the condom.” I rolled my eyes.

Erin capped the nail polish and shook it before switching feet. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want you doing it tonight and telling me about it at church tomorrow when I’ll have to control my reaction. Besides, I know Hazel Johnson always has her hearing aids in and turned up to hear the sermon and every word anyone says.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she’s always scowling at us.”

“Huh. I hadn’t noticed.”

“Go have sex and call me.” She jerked her head toward her bedroom door.

I stood, feeling like the condom in my pocket was a gun that everyone could see. “It might not happen.”

“Or it might. But if you don’t go, we’ll never know.”

“Okay. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck. And call me!”





“Are all your friends busy tonight?” Mom asked, passing me the creamed peas. “It’s rare to have you or Gabby join us for dinner on a Saturday night.”

I shrugged. Gabby was with Ben, and it was weird being home tonight. “I didn’t feel like McDonald’s tonight, but I’m meeting everyone at the bowling alley after I’m done eating.”

“Kyle called,” Dad said.

I dropped the serving spoon, and it clanked against the bowl. Mom frowned at me while I cringed.

“He said he’d help me take down that last tree after dinner tonight if someone can watch Josh.”

“I’ll do it!” I blurted.

“You just said you’re going out with friends,” Mom said.

“Yeah, but I don’t have to.”

“You worked all day. I’ll watch him. I watched him earlier while they took down the other trees.” Mom smiled at my dad.

“Do you need help with the tree?” I asked.

My dad gave me the hairy eyeball.

“What?” I shrugged, taking a bite of my steak. “I’m eighteen now. Only a few of my friends are still in town, and Erin’s in school, so she has to study most nights.”

My parents exchanged a look.

“I like this adult version of you,” Dad said, offering me a rare, sincere smile. “You can help pile up the branches.”

I controlled my excitement and returned a smile and nod.

After dinner, I walked with my parents to Kyle’s house. As soon as he opened the door, his smile vanished.

It hit me: He probably thought I told my parents, and they’d dragged me over to talk with us about our sinful behavior and to tell Kyle he wasn’t allowed to get anywhere near me ever again.

“Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Eve’s going to pile up branches for us,” Dad said in a rare moment of fatherly pride.

It took Kyle an extra second to return a nod, and his smile was barely believable as my mom stepped inside.

“Is Josh in his room?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Kyle continued to trip over his words.

It was weird, as if the previous night didn’t happen. I stared at his hands that had been in my underwear, and his lips that had kissed mine.

Dad jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m going to head that way. I need to run back home first because I forgot my gloves. I’ll meet you two at the creek.”

“I’ll grab my handsaw and be there soon,” Kyle said to my dad while staring at me with an unreadable expression as he stepped outside and squatted to tie his brown work boots. “No plans tonight?” he asked.

“Nope,” I said, watching my dad trek back toward our house.

He stood and headed toward the barn, so I followed him, staying a few steps behind.

“Did you think I told my parents about last night?”

He shook his head, opening the barn door. “I don’t know what I thought.”

I stepped inside as he held it open.

“Why would I tell them?” I laughed, following him toward a wall of tools hanging from rusty nails beside the cabinet where he kept his bow.

“I don’t know. I thought maybe Jesus made you do it,” he said.

“Jesus died so we can sin.”

He laughed, plucking a handsaw from the wall before facing me. “I love your interpretation of the Bible. Your father would be proud of your vast knowledge.”

“Thank you.” I grinned. “Nothing makes me happier than making my dad proud. Now, are you going to kiss me?”

Kyle eyed me for a second before shaking his head. “Your dad will be waiting for us.”

I shrugged. “It’s just a kiss.”

“It’s never just a kiss,” he said without looking directly at me.

I stepped closer until my boots tapped his. “Just one.”

He grunted a laugh and pointed his attention past me as if someone was there. “Evil.”

I pried his fingers from the saw handle, and it fell to the ground. When his attention returned to me, he grabbed my head and kissed me.

It was one long, hard kiss.

It’s how I imagined a man should kiss a woman—passionately, confidently, unforgettably.