Tucker Barrett had kissed me. Twice.
And I’d kissed him back—both times—like my life depended on it.
Mom had taken one look at me this morning when I’d pulled out my rolling pin and smiled knowingly but hadn’t asked questions. Jesse had just been excited about pie.
“So, two pies?” Mom had asked when I’d pulled them out of the oven.
“Yeah. One for Jesse and one for… someone else.”
Her eyes had crinkled at the corners. “Anyone I know?”
“Mom.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says you’re about to do something brave and possibly foolish.” She’d kissed my forehead. “Be careful on those mountain roads, sweetheart. Storm’s coming in.”
Now, driving up the steep mountain road toward Tucker’s cabin, I wondered if she’d meant the weather or something else entirely.
The sky had gone heavy and gray, clouds rolling in thick and low. The air smelled like rain, and I knew I should’ve waited until tomorrow. Or, better yet, turned around when I saw how dark it was getting. The pie wouldn’t go to waste, my little brother would see to that.
But I’d spent yesterday and this morning replaying those unexpected kisses, and I couldn’t wait another day to see him.
To know if it had been real.
To know if he’d meant it.
The cabin came into view, and I saw smoke curling from the chimney. His truck was parked out front, and lights glowed in the windows—warm and inviting in a way they hadn’t been the first time I’d come here.
I sat there for a minute trying to find my courage.
He kissed you. He wanted to kiss you. You’re not imagining this.
But he’s a reclusive grump who doesn’t like people.
He apparently liked you well enough.
I climbed out before I could chicken out, grabbed the pie, and walked up the porch steps on shaking legs.
This time when I knocked, the door opened almost immediately.
Like he’d been waiting.
Tucker stood there, and my mouth went dry all over again. He wore a thermal shirt and jeans, feet bare on the wood floor.The casual intimacy of it—seeing him like this, in his space, relaxed—well as relaxed as he could look, made my heart stutter.
His eyes locked on mine, dark and intense. “Emily.”
“Hi.” I held up the pie like a peace offering—or a shield. Despite having shared two lip locks with him, I wasn’t sure of my reception. I was still the curvy, underconfident woman I’d always been. But I was giving this a shot. Despite my shaking hands and weak knees. “I brought pie.”
His gaze dropped to the dish in my hands, then back to my face. “You baked me a pie.”
“Apple. To say thank you. For the car. And...” I trailed off, suddenly unsure.
“And?” His voice had gone low, rough in that way that made my stomach flip.
“And because I wanted to see you again.”
