The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (49)

Oh, Gabby …

“I’m sorry.” I wrinkled my nose. “That was wrong of me. You were right.”

“What do you mean I was right?”

“Mr. Collins is hot.”

“Pfft. Duh.” And then the lightbulb came on. It started with her whole body freezing for several seconds.

The wheels were turning to keep the light on.

Then her eyes swelled to saucers again as her jaw dropped.

A blush crawled up my neck to my face, and I bit back my grin.

She shot off the toilet seat and grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. “You are totally joking. Right? Right? Right?”

I slowly shook my head.

Something in my sister died. She released a breath that seemed reminiscent of someone being stabbed in the gut. Even her torso buckled a fraction as she stepped away from me. “Why does this keep happening?” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Sarah take the best ones. I liked him first.”

“Oh, Gabby.” I hugged her. “You’re his student.”

“But now I can’t dream about him because he’s yours. And Mom and Dad are going to be so mad, and I’ll have to live through the Sarah incident all over again.”

“Oh, no, Gabbs …” I rubbed her back. “Sarah had something much more tragic happen; I hope you don’t have to go through that with me. And”—I released her and grabbed her hand, squeezing it—“I don’t know if he’s truly mine or ever will be. But even if that happens, you can still dream about him because he is dreamy.”

And stubborn.

Infuriating.

Sexy.

Overly analytical.

And I was mad at him for saying so many nice things to me and making me feel like a beautiful woman without needing to change a thing, and in the next breath, reminding me that we might not ever be anything more than temporary.

Gabby laughed a little. “Have you kissed him?”

My younger sister was a lover and dreamer. She wrote poems in her Bible during church and knew the words to every 80s ballad. Gabby would lose her virginity on her wedding night, not just because that’s how she was raised. She’d do it because she liked things to follow a specific order.

A flirty look.

Holding hands.

A chaste kiss.

Months of wooing with flowers and love notes.

A grand proposal after asking our father for her hand in marriage.

Church wedding.

Wedding night jitters.

Baby nine months later.

Sarah and I were nothing like her. We rode the reckless high of raging hormones and the adrenaline rush of rolling in the sheets with bad boys who felt so good.

I wasn’t sure Kyle was a bad boy—until he got into the preacher’s daughter’s pants.

“We’ve kissed.” I smiled.

Gabby sucked in a breath and smiled. “How was it?”

“Amazing.”

“Was there tongue?” She blushed.

I nodded with a tight smile.

She narrowed her eyes. “Why do you have that look?”

“What look?”

“It’s the look you give me when you think I’m young and stupid.”

“What? No. I don’t think that, and I don’t have a look either.”

“You do. It’s your uncomfortable look. You think I don’t have a poker face, but neither do you.”

“Shh … it’s late. You need to go to bed. And I need to shower.” I removed my shirt and jeans, so she’d give up and leave.

“Um, Eve?”

I turned on the shower. “Huh?”

“Your underwear is inside out.”

I looked down. “Oh. Oops.”

“Oops? You didn’t know you put your underwear on—” She slapped her hand over her mouth again and then slid it to her waist. “You did it, you did it, you did IT,” she hissed. Her jaw dropped like a brick from a ten-story building.

“I didn’t.”

“Nobody puts their underwear on inside out unless they’re doing it quickly and in the dark!”

“Shh!” I put one hand on the back of her head and my other over her mouth. “Why don’t you wake up the whole town? I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

She wriggled out of my hold. “I hope you get pregnant.” She scowled at me before jerking open the door.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN





ROD STEWART, “LOVE TOUCH”





Eve

“Tell me everything,” Erin said as we put on our choir robes before church the next morning. “And you should have called me last night!”

“Let’s go, ladies,” my dad said, peeking around the corner.

Erin frowned.

I shrugged. “It’s not my fault you were late this morning.”

“It was my brother’s stupid fault,” she grumbled.

We quickly got to our seats just as my dad welcomed everyone and bowed his head to pray.

“Just tell me if you did it?” Erin whispered.

I folded my hands and closed my eyes as if I didn’t hear her.

She elbowed me.

I elbowed her back.