My brother opened his mouth, but I cut in, “What are you doing here, Brady?”
He shot Mac one last glare before answering, “I’m working this event with you and closing tonight. I just got back from my dinner break.”
What?
“I thought Mark was on the schedule,” I argued. “He was out here helping me for over an hour.”
My brother shook his head. “Nah. He was off at five. I’m your backup tonight. And good thing since you have a violent delinquent in your midst.”
I ignored the bickering his comment sparked as my mind spun and my feet carried me across the grass.
Mark had stayed. He’d helped me move the freestanding propane heaters and then he’d hauled pumpkins and wine and paint supplies back and forth from my office. He’d positioned and decorated the tables while I’d arranged the cheese board.
And he was supposed to go home nearly two hours ago.
I mounted the steps to the Apple House and found him in the back near all the equipment, right where I’d interrupted him the first time. He said he’d been washing fruit for the apple press, and here he was, trying to finish the job after he’d helped me with mine.
I felt overwhelmed by want and gratitude and an ache in my heart that just wouldn’t go away.
Mark was one of the best guys I’d ever met. He was so gentle and patient. Kind but unassuming. He took up only the space required when it was probably half of what he deserved. I’d never felt so safe with someone, so utterly cared for. Mark was reliable and comfortable, but only to the point that my heart started to race and my breath quickened.
I wanted to hold his hand. Sit around a bonfire. Read different parts of the same newspaper and let him make me breakfast. I wanted to run my fingers through his soft, short hair until he fell asleep with his head in my lap. Sit next to him at the dinner table at the farmhouse and keep my knee pressed right up against his.
I also wanted to run my hands over his body and experience his strength. Have him pick me up and put me on a counter, so I could get as close as I wanted—as close as I could get.
“Mark,” I said, my voice too weak and confused and breathless to be heard over the sound of the water and the conveyor transporting the apples to the press.
So I stepped closer and pressed a hand to his warm back, gaining his attention.
When he turned and found me standing there, he smiled first, like his lips couldn’t help themselves. I clung to that reaction, watching those blue-gray eyes crinkle at the corners and his mouth tip up in a subtle grin. But then he got a good look at me and the way I’d stepped into him—close, closer than I should have been, closer than I ever allowed myself.
His grin fell away, and his gaze moved over my face, looking for an answer I didn’t have.
With a finger through Mark’s belt loop, I tugged him to me, but a whisper of caution and uncertainty brought me up short.
“Are you with anyone?” I asked, desperate for the answer. After everything that had happened in my last relationship, I couldn’t do this without knowing thetruth. No matter how strained or distant our relationship, I could never knowingly hurt my sister.
Mark’s confusion intensified, drawing his dark brows together beneath the bill of his cap. “What? No, I’m not seeing anyone.”
Relief pulsed in time with my longing. I nodded. Then I rose on tiptoe and pressed my lips to his.
I thought Mark would freeze up or hesitate with the way I’d ambushed him, but he didn’t. His lips parted on a sigh, and I traced the seam gently with my tongue. His hand found my waist in the sliver of space between my tee shirt and unbuttoned cardigan, and he gripped me with purpose. I loved it. It was a fraction of his strength, but it was something I longed for. I could feel the dampness from the water on his hands seep into the fabric, and it was proof that this was real. It was happening.
There hadn’t been a pause or a jump scare to pull us apart at the last minute. No hesitation to slow us down. I kept my index finger wound through his belt loop, just in case. With my other hand, I cradled his scruffy jaw as we kissed.
His scent surrounded me. The bright shimmer of rainfall and garden soil and growing things. So much vibrant green that I could see it behind my closed eyelids. His touch was a balm, cooling relief from this painful crush I’d been hiding away and hauling around.
I let my hand drift to his nape, where I could run my fingers through his dark blond hair, the way I wanted, the way I’d imagined. Mark made a sound as my nails grazed his scalp. It was deep and wanting, a tug on a line that connected us and had me answering with a groan of my own.
I heard laughter come from out by the picnic tables, and I knew I should pull away. I’d simply walked off minutes ago, like someone in a trance, trying to make sense of Mark’s actions. I had work to do and a group of women waiting for me.
And from the way I still held him by his jeans, I could feel the evidence of Mark’s arousal on the backs of my fingers. This wasn’t really the time or the place.
So I gentled the pressure everywhere we touched, slowing my movements to cool the need burning within.
The heels of my sneakers met the wooden planks of the Apple House floor, but Mark bent forward, following me down. I smiled against his mouth as I pressed one final kiss to his plush lower lip, which was just as soft as I thought it would be.
The hand on my waist loosened the fabric in its grip. Mark traced down the length of my arm until he found the point where we were connected, the belt loop I still held.
