Last Kiss of Summer

by Marina Adair

  The late hours had nothing to do with getting ahead, and everything to do with avoiding the spitfire sleeping in his bed across the orchard.

  Luke’s truck was still parked down by the cottage, making a stealthy exit impossible and an impromptu meet probable. Unless she was soaking in that big claw-footed tub, lying beneath a layer of bubbles and plotting his demise. Or maybe she was already asleep—the woman did rise at the baker’s hour. And thanks to him, she’d had one hell of a day

  The last thing either of them needed tonight was another run-in. Which was why Luke headed toward his truck with the intention of packing it in and going straight home. Only when he came out from under the last canopy of trees, every good intention he had to keep his distance vanished.

  He counted fifteen bushels of apples at the bottom of the porch, five more than when he’d left that morning. More than enough to get her through the week. They were picked, packed, and ready to go—right there out in the open—for anyone with a pickup and strong arms.

  Kennedy might be able to muscle one or two on her own, but her little hybrid didn’t offer much in terms of trunk space. Or backseat space for that matter.

  In fact, the only way she was going to get the apples to Sweetie Pies was a few shopping bags at a time. So unless she was planning on hiring a truck and driver, she’d be smart to conceal her produce a little better.

  But what had him stepping past his truck and toward the walkway was Destiny Bay’s newest resident apple picker, who sat on the top step of the porch.

  She was in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt, surrounded by enough Band-Aid wrappers and half-eaten pies to supply a preschool class, and had a full carton of milk at her feet. Her hair was damp, her face devoid of any makeup, and she looked wiped out.

  “The last person I want to talk to tonight is you,” she said, and the gravity in her voice had him halting.

  Feeling the insane urge to apologize to her, like he had fucked with her day and her mental state, Luke opened his mouth and went to step from the shadows, but she wasn’t anywhere close to done.

  “We had an agreement,” she said, her tone frosty enough to cryogenically freeze his nuts. “Half when it was signed over, then monthly payments until we are square.”

  Kennedy turned her head, and that was when he saw the phone—and realized she hadn’t seen him. Oblivious to his presence, she continued the heated conversation and, based on the tense way she held herself, lips pursed with an expression of sheer exasperation, it was most likely his aunt. Which meant Luke’s nuts were safe.

  For the moment.

  “That’s not what you promised,” she said quietly, her voice so close to cracking, he felt it in his chest. Then she closed her eyes out of raw disappointment and he knew that couldn’t be his aunt.

  Fi was frustrating as hell, stubborn to a fault, but she’d never purposefully hurt someone’s feeling. And Kennedy’s feelings were beyond hurt. The little sighs she kept releasing told him as much; they also told him that she was too disappointed for it to be anyone other than family or an ex.

  “I’m happy for you that Argentina went better than expected and that they want you to move there, but you still have responsibilities here,” she said then paused as if listening to the person on the other end. “No, this isn’t me being spiteful. Spiteful would have been demanding that we sell the property since you couldn’t buy me out completely.”

  Kennedy’s mouth opened, then closed, and she hung her head, the phone dangling from her fingers. Luke could hear a man huffing and puffing, so indignant he could make out a few words from across the walkway. Jesus, the guy bitched more than Hawk when he lost a bet.

  “Again not my problem, because a month ago you wanted the condo. So much that you agreed to buy me out. And I agreed to your ridiculous offer, even though we both knew the condo was worth more than that appraisal you got. So either send me a payment before the end of the week, or I will have my own agent appraise the house and we can add the difference to your balance.”

  Luke could feel the cutting silence from where he was standing. Could feel her anger and frustration; even worse, he could feel her pain. He wanted to tell the idiot to take the deal, but he didn’t want Kennedy to know he was there—listening in on what she had assumed was a private conversation.

  “Fine, next Friday, but I’m serious, Philip, if it isn’t in my account by the end of the day, I will send my grandma over to collect.” She rolled those pretty eyes of hers, but he could tell she was closer to tears than she’d ever admit. “Yeah, well, you also promised not to have sex with other women, so I’m not holding my breath.”

  Luke winced at the information, but his heart? That did a hell of a lot more. Pinched and ached over the heartache she’d gone through. It wasn’t just the disappointment in her tone that called to him; it was the gentle acceptance of the situation, as if she was angry at herself for hoping for more.

  Kennedy hung up and he heard the telltale sound of a sniffle, followed by a sharp, shaky breath that had his gut twisting.

  Time to peace out. The woman was a few seconds from tears, and the only thing worse for her than crying over some guy would be the knowledge that Luke saw her crying over some guy.

  He remembered their first conversation, and what she’d said when he offered to buy her out. Do you think it’s as easy as throwing some money my way and I’ll just happily up and relocate my whole life? The dickwad on the phone had to be the reason she’d moved to Destiny Bay.

  Reminding himself of the whole people in glass houses nonsense, he wondered if some other guy down the road would refer to him as the dickwad who had her leaving Destiny Bay. Because now that Luke knew the why, he could easily figure out the what, and the how, to get her apples.

  And that made him more than a dickwad. It made him the kind of person he couldn’t look at in the mirror without wanting to punch something.

  Figuring that was his cue to head back to the barn, and get some more paperwork done, Luke turned around.

  “If you came to steal the apples,” she said, her voice disappearing into the breeze. “The bushels are zip-tied together, then attached to buckets hiding on the roof filled with orange icing dye. One tug and you’ll look like a giant mango.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. Mango clashes with my rugged good looks.” Luke walked closer until he could see her face under the moonlight and his stomach tightened. She looked small, and splintered, and torn up. And he wasn’t talking about all the Band-Aids on her body. “I didn’t come here to take your apples, sweetness. Just picking up my truck so I can go home.”

  She looked at him long and hard, as if trying to figure out why her bullshit meter was still going off.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She wiped at her cheeks and offered up a too bright smile. “You know me.”

  He did know her, knew that smile was for his benefit, not hers. Just like he knew where her vulnerable buttons were, and up until a second ago had no issues with pushing them. Which was so far from the kind of man he wanted to be—the kind of man Kennedy deserved.

  “Night, sweetness.” With a parting wave, he headed toward the truck. He reached for the door handle and she called out to him.

  “Luke.”

  He turned around.

  “You don’t have to run off just yet. You got to see the fireworks, might as well stay for the pie. I believe that one on the far left is yours.”

  Right, his prize for picking the most apples in twenty minutes. Little did she know he could have picked three times the number, but he’d told his guys to let him set the pace. He was willing to help out, in order to get his team back and focused on the right job, but he wasn’t going to help himself right out of business. Even if it meant sending a woman, who had no business picking apples, up a tree for the day.

  A mix of shame and anger washed over him, shame that he’d been a part of the recent struggle, anger that come next week he knew her struggles were going to become worse—and
he wasn’t in a position to help.

  In order to hold strong to his position, he’d have to hinder hers, which would eventually lead to hurting her. And that made him sick. “No worries,” he said. “I can pick up my pie tomorrow.”

  Luke turned to leave.

  “No, wait—”

  Chapter 10

  These won’t last until tomorrow,” Kennedy said, standing up to hold out his pie.

  She told herself there was no logical reason to encourage Luke to stay. Not tonight anyway. Not when she was feeling raw and exposed—and so damn alone she couldn’t stomach the thought of being stuck with just her thoughts for the rest of the night.

  She needed a distraction—even if only temporarily.

  Plus, fair was fair, and he’d won the HumDinger. She still couldn’t believe it. Not that he’d won, since the man had outpicked his crew three to one. But that he’d helped.

  Instead of yelling at her, which he had every right to do since she’d stolen his crew, he’d pulled everyone together to get the job done. Clapped his hands, gave some curt orders, people got working. Sure, it was only twenty minutes, but his crew accomplished more in that short amount of time than Kennedy and her seniors had over the rest of the afternoon.

  She didn’t have a game plan ready for when these ran out, but for today she had enough apples—and hope. It wasn’t Luke’s fault that Philip had decided to crap all over her plans. So she’d offered Luke his pie. No big deal.

  Except now that he was coming up the walkway, his boots crunching the gravel beneath, she couldn’t help wondering how safe it would feel to be wrapped up in all six-feet-plus of pure unadulterated male.

  “You sure?” he asked, his hands shoved in his front pockets and his attitude dialed to I’ve got you. It had been so long since anyone had Kennedy covered, she wanted to pretend, just for a moment or two.

  How dangerous could a moment or two be?

  She walked down the first step, gasping a little as the cut on her right leg brushed the porch railing. He appeared bigger and stronger with each step he took, until he finally reached out for the pie, their fingers grazing, and she gasped for a whole different reason—one that made it clear that a lot could happen in a single moment.

  Really bad decisions could happen in two.

  She didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified when, instead of taking his pie and heading home, Luke sat on the porch. Then pulled not one, but two forks out of the silverware holder and patted the step next to him.

  Really bad decisions, Kennedy thought, deciding to remain standing.

  “Don’t read too much into this, the pie is five pounds. There is no way I can finish it by tomorrow.” He offered the fork—and a sly little wink—her way. “Plus, it’s the only one you haven’t sampled from tonight’s spread.”

  It was true. Kennedy had tried every leftover pie, looking for something to fill her up, to calm that empty ache in her belly. Every pie except for his. She’d come out on the porch with the leftovers to celebrate her good day. But now that the sun was gone, and that awful call over, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and she started to wonder if she’d come out here for another reason entirely.

  Kennedy knew that Luke would have to come back for his truck at some point. Why else would she have brought out his pie and extra forks? Because she wanted to share the excitement of her day with someone. No, not someone—Luke.

  She was hoping that she’d get to see Luke, spend time with him, and lose herself in his strength.

  Luke was looking up at her like he had the answers to all of her problems, and for a slice of pie he was willing to share. A prospect that was so tempting she miraculously forgot why this was a bad idea. Forgot that he was her biggest problem.

  “Don’t read too much into this,” she repeated, taking a seat and snatching the fork. “You helped me out today and won a pie, I’m helping you out by eating the pie, end of story. This isn’t me waving a white flag and thinking we have a truce or anything.”

  “Good to know,” was all he said, then forked off a piece of crust—her favorite part—and offered it to her. She ignored it and forked off her own piece. Right next to his.

  He gave a loud chuckle, then slid the fork in his mouth, purposefully moaning as he ate.

  A few bites in and Kennedy felt her mind slow down, her limbs go heavy with overuse, her body trying to adapt to the rare sensation of stillness.

  Luke didn’t push. Didn’t ask her about the day, or the call he’d overheard, or even bring up her apples. He seemed to appreciate the quiet companionship tonight as much as she did.

  Kennedy had no idea how long they sat there, sharing the HumDinger and silently watching the breeze brush past the trees, sending a mosaic of shadows dancing across the grass. It was comfortable, safe, as if the rest of the world had disappeared.

  Luke had a way about him, a quiet confidence that set people at ease. Allowed them to hand over their problems and worry without hesitation. She’d seen it before around town, with his family. Now that she was experiencing it firsthand, that same fierce capability directed at her, she wanted to let her worries go.

  But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t seem to relax. Oh, her head cleared, and problems that seemed dire only minutes before lost their urgency, but the lighter her mind felt, the heavier her heart became.

  “How much did you hear?” she asked.

  “Enough to know that if I were in a bar fight, I’d want you on my side.” He offered her another bite and she waved it off.

  “And here I thought you’d come to steal my apples in the dark.”

  He slid her a look. “Sweetness, if I were going to get my hands on your apples, it would be a lights-on affair that involved silk sheets and multiple tastings.”

  A laugh burst from her lips, only it came out sounding more like a sob, which made her laugh harder until a thin line of water lined her lashes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “I’ve spent my entire life dealing with my mom and aunt. Nothing is woman-speak for a whole lot of something. Plus, you look like you’re about to cry.” He sounded quite calm for a man who was staring down a woman on the verge.

  “A real gentleman wouldn’t point that out,” she said, covering her face with her hands, the movement smarting the cuts on her hands.

  “A real man would, though.” Luke’s fingers traced the Band-Aids littering her hands, then pulled them close to inspect them. His touch was tender and gentle as if her pain were somehow his. “Is this all from today?”

  “It looks worse than it is,” she said, telling herself that it was true. That her life did look worse than it was. That she was just tired and in desperate need of sleep, and that tomorrow everything would work out. But she knew that it wouldn’t.

  If Philip was late on his payment, Kennedy would have to work something out with Paula—which required a conversation where she admitted she’d failed and needed more time.

  All the stress and worry felt heavy and real, and completely isolating. Kennedy had worked so hard to make the right choices, pick a direction, and determine the way her life would work out. But she was once again waiting for someone who was supposed to be family to deliver on a promise that they’d never come through on.

  Luke took the Band-Aid off her most irritating scrape.

  “Stop,” she said, and he immediately froze, his eyes going to hers.

  “Did that hurt?”

  So much. But not in the way that he assumed. “No, seriously, it is just a few scrapes, nothing that a few Band-Aids can’t fix.”

  “You forget, I’ve worked around apples and the harvest my entire life, I know a scrape from a cut.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s my body, so I say they are scrapes.” She took her hand back and looked out at the stars overhead. “Plus, you being nice to me is weirding me out.”

  With a small twitch of the lips, he asked, “Me being nice to you is wei
rd?”

  “Kind of,” she admitted, leaving out the part that she liked it. Too much. “One more gentlemanly gesture and I’ll lose it.”

  “I think you’re sexy when you lose it,” he said, his voice a low rumble that had her knees wobbling.

  “Seriously? How lucky does that line get you?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never used it before,” he said and looked genuinely surprised. “But you’re not tearing my head off or telling me what my problem is, so it must be working.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “You want to talk about it?”

  “About how well your line is working? Or my jerk of an ex?”

  “Both. Either. Whatever will make this not weird for you.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Then why do I feel like I need to pull you into my arms?” His expression went serious, and Kennedy found herself being drawn in by the intensity of his stare. Found her walls lowering and her foundation shifting.

  “My ex is a flake who found a more exciting opportunity and went for it. I was slow on the uptake and paid the price.”

  “I can beat him up.” He flexed.

  “I’m sure you could,” she said, touched by the conviction in his voice. “But looking back, I can see it never would have worked out.”

  “Why?” Luke asked, and Kennedy got the distinct impression that her answer was important.

  “We wanted different things, I guess. The only way I could have made him truly happy was to give up who I was,” she whispered. “And I’m tired of giving up things I love.”

  She watched as Luke focused on the stars, taking in what she said. After a long moment he asked, “What makes you happy?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I know I want to build a life for myself, a place that I can call mine.” She closed her eyes and let the tranquility of that dream wash over her. It wasn’t happiness she felt, but there was the potential. “I was so hurt by Philip’s betrayal, and am still so angry that he is flaking out on me, but I’m glad he showed me his true colors when he did.”

  Luke shifted uncomfortably at her statement. “Any guy who would intentionally ruin your good day sounds like an ass.” He slid her a glance—it was kind and gentle, and a little self-deprecating. He was apologizing.