by Marina Adair
She’d been dying to touch him since he’d walked over to her table, like some kind of good guy for hire, looking charming and sexy in a pair of butt-loving jeans and a blue flannel.
“Last one, ready?” His other hand came around her, holding an apple. It was on the smaller side, light green, and russetted around the stem.
She shifted so she faced him. “Is that a pippin?”
“Nope. And no more questions, it’s against the rules.” He pulled a small knife out of his pocket and sliced off a sliver. “I want an unbiased tasting.”
He held the piece against her lips, just like he had with the other varieties, only when she took a bite, she let her lips graze his fingers, lingering long enough to let him know she liked his rules.
“Wow,” she said, surprised by how firm the texture was, yet it was incredibly plump and juicy. He ran his thumb along her lower lip, catching the juice as it ran over, only to bring it to his mouth and suck.
“So sweet.”
“Wait for it,” he whispered.
She didn’t have to ask what it was, because as soon as the first note hit, it was followed by a tartness that was complex and sharp, and her taste buds came alive wanting more.
“It has a piny aftertaste,” she said. “And it’s not a pippin?”
“Close, it’s a pippin and a Honeycrisp. We call it a crispin,” he said, putting his knife in his pocket. “My dad spent twenty years cross-breeding different varieties to finally get this. He wanted an apple that was firm and kept well, but had several levels to it, not just tart or sweet, but a complexity that would carry over through the fermenting process.”
“It’s incredible.”
Luke smiled. “He would have loved to hear that. It’s even more developed after a few weeks in storage. And when fermented?” Luke closed his eyes. “Incomparable.”
“It would make the perfect base for a pie,” she said. “But you already knew that—it’s why you brought me here.”
He shrugged. “It needs some acid to cut through the sweet notes, but I hoped that it might be the something different you were looking for.”
She went up on her toes and kissed him lightly, lingering long enough to taste all the levels that made up this man. He was firm but sweet, and so much more. With her arms still around his neck, she pulled back. “I like the sweet notes.”
“Me, too.” His hands slid down to settle on the curve of her lower back.
“And I like that you brought me to your home.”
Kennedy couldn’t put her finger on what happened, but something shifted ever so slightly. With a tired smile, he kissed her nose, then pointed over her shoulder.
“Speaking of the house, it’s over there.”
She turned and Kennedy’s breath caught. It wasn’t just a house; it was the centerpiece of the property.
Perched beneath an oak tree with an aged tire swing sat a beautiful farmhouse with white clapboard siding, a bright blue door, and enough charm to be on the cover of a magazine. It wasn’t big by any means, but it had amazing floor-to-ceiling windows that spanned the back of the house, looking out onto the orchard and distant waters.
“This place is enchanting.” It was made for a family, she decided. A single story of history and memories held together by love and a wraparound porch.
She felt him smile against her hair. “My mom used the same word. Unless she was talking about the barn.” He pointed to a sad-looking bundle of boards and siding, which appeared to be some kind of faded red structure that was sagging with age.
“That’s a barn?”
He chuckled. “It was my dad’s distillery. He’d disappear in there for days at a time, tinkering with his cider. Come out looking like a mad scientist or some kind of mountain man.” He looked down at her. “It drove my mom crazy. But she loved him.”
“Your family owns this place?”
“It was our summer home,” Luke said, a soft reverence to his voice that gave her pause. “And we spent nearly every weekend here. My mom stood right there, where that sunroom is now, and said she could happily spend the rest of eternity looking at the ocean and those trees. So my dad bought her the land as a wedding present, and built the sunroom for their tenth wedding anniversary.”
Sunroom was an understatement. The structure was more like a cathedral observatory with wrought-iron-encased leaded-glass walls and ceiling. Inside was a green oasis of plants and ferns, surrounding a charming sitting area that was perfect for reading, or whale watching on a clear day.
“Now I know where you get your romantic side from.” She pressed back into him teasingly and he tightened his arms. “Did Little Luke swing on that big tire over there?”
“All the time,” he said like a boy retelling his greatest tale. “Until Hawk dared me to swing off the bluff and plunge into the ocean. Mom caught us and threatened to cut it down if she ever saw us doing that again. Then she made enough casseroles to last through winter.”
“Stress baking. It’s a dangerous habit.”
“Well, tonight you won’t be stress baking; you’ll be baking up new recipes, right?” He sounded so concerned, as if the thought of her being stressed out brought him pain.
“No stress baking,” she promised. “After you taught me all of the different kinds of apples, and let me taste them, I think I have an idea that will blow away the judges’ taste buds and put me in the running. Thank you for that, by the way.”
He shrugged like it was no big deal, but to her it had been everything. He’d taken the time to listen to her problem, then help her find a solution. Never once did he tell her what to do or how to feel, just let her experience what she needed then took her to one of the most beautiful orchards in the state. Where he hand-picked a dozen different apples, all heirloom and all holding so many possibilities, explaining the benefits and the drawbacks of using each one.
Kennedy hadn’t a clue as to how close baking and cider were when it came to acidity, sweetness, and overall balance. Luke’s experience with the apples and his thoughtful suggestions sparked so many ideas, she couldn’t wait to get in the kitchen and try them. But since every time she’d thanked him, he seemed to get uncomfortable, she decided to change the topic.
“Is that why your mom sold the shop, because she wanted to move out here full time?” she asked, figuring that if she owned this place, she’d retire tomorrow.
Luke exhaled, then he leaned back against a tree, pulling her with him until all she felt was him. A big, warm, protective man wrapping himself around her. It was a feeling she could get used to.
“I think she sold the shop because her body is tired,” he said. “But she wouldn’t think to come here, since we don’t own it anymore.”
She remembered the real estate sign at the top of the dirt road where they pulled in, and suddenly felt like she was trespassing. “Then whose apples were we eating?”
“By the end of the week they’ll be mine,” he said, looking over the endless view of apples. “Tomorrow, Hawk and I will accept the owners’ offer and buy back the apples.”
Luke didn’t seem thrilled over the idea; in fact, he seemed a little overwhelmed. “You don’t sound happy.”
Luke let out a humorless laugh. “One of the owners won’t piece out the harvest. So if we buy, we buy all fifty acres’ worth.”
Kennedy had no idea how much fifty acres of heirlooms at wholesale would cost, but she knew it would have been a heck of a lot cheaper to buy her three acres. But instead of running her out of business, like he’d originally set out to do, Luke found a different path. One that allowed her a chance to live out her dream, a realization that was as foreign as it was touching.
“Why did your mom sell the property to start with?”
“She didn’t,” Luke said so quietly, she barely heard it over the ocean breeze. “I did.”
“You sold it?”
He laced their fingers and led her along the jagged bluff. Maybe she should have thought to change out of her skirt and big city shoes, she told
herself as she stumbled while navigating the rocky surface in sky-high heels.
Always the gentleman, Luke slowed his pace and wrapped her hand around his forearm for balance. “After my dad died, I discovered they were drowning in debt. A few bad harvests, followed by never-ending medical bills, my college tuition, grad school, it had all piled up.”
“Oh, Luke.” She squeezed his hand. “That must have been so hard.”
“I was off making a life for myself, so I had no clue about their debt.”
The pain and guilt in his voice were hard to hear. Luke didn’t just love his family, he felt responsible for them. It was as if he believed that it was his job to ensure their happiness and health. A steep job, even for one of the good guys.
“I had the choice of selling off this place or leveraging Callahan Orchards, both of which would break my dad’s heart, but I did what I thought was best at the time.” She could only imagine how hard choosing between giving his mom her dream home and saving his family’s legacy could have been. “If I had just stayed, I would have seen the problems and could have stepped in and avoided this entire situation.”
Kennedy looked at the property again, and instead of thinking about the romantic views and charming porch, she thought about what it must have looked like to a teenage Luke. It would have been daunting, confining, even paralyzing.
“You grew up knowing that this would all be yours. That Callahan Orchards and everything that came with it would fall to you.” She squeezed his hand. “You were born into a future that family responsibility dictated and planned. It left no room for possibility. That’s a lot for anyone to take, especially a kid who had dreams of his own.”
And Luke would have had big dreams; it was the kind of person he was.
“In the end, the only thing I wanted was more time with my dad. More time here.” As if he needed to distance himself from the memories, he started walking, this time leading her through the orchard and toward the sunroom, her heart aching for the man who’d lost so much. “When I sold the property, I put in a first right of refusal clause, which means I have until the end of October to make a fair bid.”
The only reason he would wait was if he was short on capital.
Kennedy thought back to their talk in her bakery when he offered to buy her out, then she remembered what Paula had said about Luke needing the apples to be happy. And that was when the severity of the situation hit her. “You needed my apples to buy this place.”
“In a roundabout way, yeah.” He opened the ornate glass door and sunlight-heated air soaked into her bones, warding off the last of the chill. The raised ceiling gave the illusion of being outside, while the lush green of the plants and a hint of citrus from the potted orange trees brought about serenity that went soul deep.
The room was warm and cozy, made for playing games and watching the stars. It was the kind of place that encouraged memories, and instilled their longevity.
Luke led her to a chaise lounge in the center of the room, where he tucked a soft blanket tightly around her. “Better?” he whispered.
“Much,” she said, moved by how naturally he cared for others. “Thank you.”
With a nod, he turned, staring quietly out onto the bay. “Hawk and I signed a deal to be the exclusive hard cider supplier for a large chain of sports bars. The payment for our first delivery would give us enough money to put down on this property.”
“Luke, that’s incredible.”
He glanced over his shoulder, and his smile said it was anything but. “We’re short on cider.”
Kennedy felt sick. “Let me guess, three acres short?”
He didn’t have to answer; his expression said it all. He wasn’t trying to chase her out of town or even secure his own happiness. He was trying to secure his mom’s, and that more than anything called out to her.
“Why did you help me tonight?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have been able to get in the contest myself, and I would have had to sell you the apples.” Which she’d bet would be half the price of what he was going to pay.
“I lost my mom’s property because I was too busy playing big businessman. I don’t want you to lose your shop because I wasn’t smart enough to think my way out of a problem.”
She thought back to a moment ago, standing on the bluff, realizing how sweet he’d been for not standing in the way of her dream. What she hadn’t known was that he’d put his own dream in jeopardy for hers. “But what if you lose this house again because of me?”
“I won’t.” He turned toward her and, squatting down to get at eye level with her, rested his hands on her knees. Even through the thickness of the blanket, she could feel his heat. “And it’s more than this house. I helped you because I don’t want you to go.”
Kennedy swallowed through the emotion. “You don’t want me to go?”
“No, sweetness, I don’t.” Luke sat down next to her. Leaning back, he rested his arms on the curved back of the chaise, bringing him in close, so his thigh was flush with her bare legs and his arm pressed against her shoulder.
She wasn’t sure if it was the easy contact, or the idea that he didn’t want her to go, but the panicky feeling that set in after her talk with Cosmo was back. Not sharp enough to make every breath a struggle, but her chest tightened in a way that had her heart straining. “Why not? Me going would make your life easier.”
“But it would make everything else harder,” he said.
“So you want me to stay because you’d feel guilty if I left? Responsible for me losing my place?”
If that were the case, she’d rather know now. The last thing she wanted to be was one more person he felt responsible for. If he wanted her to stay, she didn’t want it to be because of some superhero complex or doing the right thing. She wanted it to be because he saw the possibilities in them.
In her.
“I want to you to stay because of this.”
One minute his lips weren’t anywhere near her mouth, the next they were caressing hers, languidly exploring one corner, then the other, and finally coaxing open the seam. With a moan that came from so far inside, it might have been her toes, she opened her mouth to deepen the connection when something vibrated between them.
This kiss was different. Sure it was sexy and succulent, but it was also emotional and unexpectedly tender.
All of the earlier lust and primal desperation that had driven them from the start was gone, replaced with an understanding that took her by surprise, and a gentleness that made her feel as though she was precious.
Maybe it was the expected crash of an emotionally charged night, or the fact that she was sitting in the middle of Luke’s childhood, kissing in the sunroom that he might end up losing because he chose to help her, but suddenly she felt unsure. Nervous like the scared girl whose mom had finally come to visit, but no matter how hard Kennedy tried, she would never be enough to stay, to keep.
To love.
Kennedy pulled back. “What is this, Luke?”
“This,” he said, and the only contact they had was his hands on her cheeks and the faintest pressure of their thighs brushing. “Is perfection.”
He tilted her head to the side and his lips brushed hers again. It was sweet and erotic and perfection indeed. A small burst of hope welled up, almost making her believe that, maybe for him, she was perfect.
Then that little voice in her head nagged that she was far from perfect. She focused on the sounds of the crashing waves, the gentle sway of the swing, and the fantasy that maybe she belonged here—in this family-ready home with this family-loving man, but she couldn’t get past the word.
Perfect was impossible. A fantasy. And she didn’t want a fantasy. She wanted this to be real. Opening her eyes, she knew she wanted this to be the truth.
“I don’t need perfection, because I’ll never be perfect,” she said as he kissed down her neck. “I just need to know that I’m enough.”
Luke lifted his head to meet her gaze, staring for what seemed like a
n eternity. With a single fingertip, he traced the lower curve of her lip. “You are more than most people will ever be.”
“I’m also more stubborn than most,” she reminded him quietly.
“I think stubborn is sexy, and when I said this, I meant you, sweetness. I want you to stay because you’re simply you,” he said, and the conviction behind his words rocked her.
Her breath caught and her heart stopped to absorb the words, to analyze what he really meant. Only there was nothing to understand beyond the fact that she could easily fall in love with him. She was already in love with his family, his town, the way he made her feel.
And she was one kiss from falling completely.
Holding her gaze prisoner, Luke moved in slowly, sliding the blanket down her shoulder, her lap, to the floor, giving her time to back away. But Kennedy was tired of backing away, so she met him halfway, and when their mouths brushed, she knew.
Knew she’d fallen a long time ago. The first time she’d seen him with his family. Seen what a loyal and loving man he was—knew she’d give anything to have a chance at that kind of connection. To be on the receiving end of an unquestioning affection that left her breathless.
“I want this, too, and by this, I mean you.” She sank her hands into his hair and pulled him back with her. Into her arms and into her heart.
“Thank Christ,” he said, going up on one knee and moving her backward. She felt the arm of the lounge and, at his request, lay all the way back until his body was covering hers. “Because I’ve wanted you since I left your house last week.”
“All you had to do was call,” she whispered against his lips.
“I’m more of an in-person guy. The intimate nature of a face-to-face allows me to assess a person’s unique wants and needs,” he said, and she shivered from her lips to her toes.
She rested her hands above her head, on the arm of the chaise, and played coy. “And what is it that you have assessed? From me?”
“Oh, sweetness, you’re an open book. I’ve been saying from day one that you want me to kiss you.” He ran his thumb over her lips and they quivered in response. “But what you need is a hot, wet kiss. Right…” His finger trailed down her neck, between the valley of her breasts, not stopping until it was running over her center. “Here.”
