The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (77)

I returned a slight nod, heading toward the stairs.

“Eve?”

I continued down the stairs.

“Eve, don’t leave until I’m done reading to Josh.”

I wasn’t going to stay. Everything inside of me wanted to run home, even if it meant getting a lecture from my parents on my driving. But I stared at the refrigerator when I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter and decided to look for something to take the edge off.

When Kyle found me on his deck, I had already downed one-and-a-half cans of beer to soothe my nerves, and his little radio by the door played U2’s “I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For.”

“Think that’s a good idea?” he asked, sitting in the rocker beside me.

I stared out at the clear autumn sky with a glitter of stars. “Does it matter if my ideas are good?”

“It’s a small dent, Eve. I don’t expect you to hand over your paycheck.”

“I know it was a small dent, and I might not have hit the pole had you not treated me like a child in front of Drew and everyone else. I have been doing my very best to prove that I’m not a child. I didn’t mean to fall on him, but our legs were tied together. And …” I leaned my head back and closed my eyes with a giggle that stole my thunder. “I don’t remember where I was going with that.”

He reached for my beer, and my eyes snapped open as I tightened my grip.

“It’s my beer.” He smirked.

“I earned it.”

His gaze shifted to the hoodie I borrowed from his closet since Josh had mine, which needed washing. “And the hoodie?”

“I earned it too,” I said, trying to keep from grinning. “But I’ll let you have the rest of my beer if you earn it back.” I wasn’t fully drunk, but my inhibitions were lower. After setting the beer on the floor, I stood and removed my jeans and underwear, but his long sweatshirt hung mid-thigh keeping me covered.

As luck or Satan would have it, the next song that came on the radio was George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex.”

One of Kyle’s brows quirked up his forehead, and I knew what he was thinking.

I nodded to the beer before sitting down. “I don’t care which one you have first.” I rested one foot on the rocker's edge, and then the other, as I leaned back.

Kyle didn’t jump out of his seat right away. He took his time, arching his back for a stretch before standing.

Without that liquid courage, I wouldn’t have been able to hold his gaze as his lust-filled eyes flitted along my body. My nerves would have eaten me alive knowing my legs were spread, everything on display for him to see.

I felt confident, sexy, and deserving of what he was lowering to his knees to do.

The music.

The lyrics.

It was all so perfect.

He gripped my ankle with his good hand and lifted my leg, resting it on the chair’s arm.

The cool evening air found my sensitive flesh, and I sucked in a tiny breath and trapped my lip between my teeth. George Michael and one and a half beers were the perfect combination to keep me from comparing myself to the centerfolds under Kyle’s mattress or any of the women in town who were pining for him. One and a half beers made me feel powerful.

He picked up the beer, and I waited for him to drink it or do something kinky, like pour it between my legs and lick it off.

“Baby,” he tipped the beer, letting the rest spill over the railing, “the only thing I need in my veins is you.”

The can clinked, and his head bowed. He held the inside of my thigh as he kissed me, teased me with his tongue, and stole my breath.

“God …” I whispered, closing my eyes while my other heel pressed harder into the chair. My fingernails scraped along the wood arms.

The song lyrics seduced me. He seduced me.

Thoughts collided with feelings and mind-blowing sensations. I couldn’t tell if I was thinking the words “don’t ever stop” or if I was chanting them aloud.

I’d spent weeks trying to please everyone else. It was my turn. I wanted someone to care for me, even for only a few amazing minutes.





CHAPTER THIRTY





PHIL COLLINS, “IN THE AIR TONIGHT”





Eve

After what I fondly dubbed “the best beer and a half of my life,” I accepted Kyle’s suggestion to sleep at home because I wanted to take Grandma Bonnie breakfast, and she was an early riser. Just as I took the apple strudel out of the oven to cool a few minutes before seven, my mom pulled up to shit on my day.

“I’m glad you came home last night,” she said, tightening her robe’s sash.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to wake Josh or Kyle by leaving their house this morning.” I pulled the hot pads off my hands and shut off the oven.

“There’s been some chattering around town, specifically among our church family.”

“About?” I poured myself a glass of orange juice while I waited for the strudel to cool.

Mom filled the coffee pot with water. “It’s silly, really. But we can’t have people jumping to conclusions no matter how ridiculous they are.”

“Jumping to conclusions about what?”

“You and Kyle.” She rolled her eyes and measured the coffee grounds.