Page 60 of More Than Meets the Eye

Thankfully, neither Seth nor Zach had said anything, but the warning glances they’d shot her way hadn’t helped her rioting pulse. She could hear their admonitions to be careful ringing through her brain as if they’d shouted them aloud.

Being careful only got a gal so far. Sometimes she had to take a few risks to get what she wanted. And she wanted Logan—every complicated, secretive, heroic piece of him.

When he held the door open for her, she bustled through, then bounced up onto her tiptoes and leaned over the porch railing to pick the perfectly ripe peach she’d spotted between the branches earlier that morning. The tree was nearly done producing, but one luscious gift hung high, half hidden in the leaves.

Evangeline plucked it from the stem, wiped it gently on her bodice, then turned and presented it to Logan with a smile. “For you.”

All right, yes, she was trying to sweeten him up. She remembered how much he’d enjoyed the canned peaches she brought him in that first basket of goodies. Surely a fresh peach would be equally pleasing.

She needed him as pleased with her as possible before she owned up to her treachery.

Logan’s eyes met hers as he accepted the peach from her hand. His calloused fingertips brushed the back of her hand, and Evangeline’s breath caught. There was no dread in his expression now—only heat, appreciation, and a connection so intense, she wanted to wrap around him like a wisteria vine grabbing hold of a mighty oak.

Slowly, Logan pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist. Looking down, he ran the blade around the outer edge of the peach. Juice dripped from the ripe fruit, and the air thickened with its sweet scent. He wiped the blade on his trousers, slipped it back into its place on his belt, then cupped both sides of the peach and twisted gently until the halves came apart.

“Share with me?” He held out the half without the pit.

Evangeline took the fruit from him, her fingers lingering over the roughened feel of his hand before sliding down to the fuzzy peach skin.

Mercy. When had eating a piece of fruit become such an intimate activity? Warmth flushed her cheeks, and she had to duck away from the intensity in his gray eyes. She raised the peach to her lips, hoping to find relief in the mundane process of eating, but when she took a bite, a small rivulet of juice ran down from the corner of her mouth, further fueling her embarrassment.

Until the back of Logan’s finger gently brushed it away. Her gaze flew to his face, but he wasn’t looking at her eyes. He was staring at her mouth. Hungrily. Rather like he had in the cellar right before he kissed her. Her pulse thrummed, and her breathing shallowed. Heavens, she wanted him to kiss her again.

But not here. Not where Seth or Zach could see, should one of them happen by a window or decide to stroll out the front door. An all-too-likely possibility, given their interfering natures.

Instead of raising up on her toes and lifting her mouth to Logan’s as instinct demanded, she twirled around and scrambled down the front porch steps.

“There’s a pretty place down by the pond,” she called over her shoulder. She tried to smile invitingly, but she couldn’t quite manage the lighthearted gesture with all the strong emotions rioting through her midsection. “We could sit and talk.”

The lines of his face hardened just a bit, and his eyes cooled. The change was subtle, but Evangeline felt it pierce her chest.

He quirked a grin as if nothing of import had just been smothered, and jogged down the three stairs to join her. “Sure.” He sank his teeth into his peach half. He didn’t give her a chance to enjoy the sight, though, for he strode past her as if he knew exactly where they were going, effectively nailing the coffin lid shut on a moment that had brimmed with life and promise just heartbeats earlier.

It was for the best—or at least that was what Evangeline told herself as she traipsed after Logan while he made his way toward the smokehouse. Again, as if he knew exactly where the pond was located.

Her brow furrowed. She slowed her steps just enough to allow him to stay in the lead.

She’d never shown him her pond. She’d described it to him, might have even mentioned its general location, but not with enough detail for him to have formulated an internal map. Yet he marched west past the smokehouse as if the star of Bethlehem were igniting the sky and marking their destination.

When he ducked between the twin pecan trees that provided shade for the handful of large rocks at the pond’s south edge, Evangeline knew it couldn’t be coincidence. He’d led her directly to the only natural seating around the pond’s perimeter.

Pausing between the trees, she braced one hand against the trunk closest to her. “You’ve been here before.”

He stopped, his back still toward her. The sound of a heavy sigh met her ears a moment before he turned to face her.

“You’re right. I have.” He glanced in the direction of the house, his features so somber that Evangeline’s chest ached. “I grew up here.”

“What?” She shook her head, the action, unfortunately, doing nothing to shake the scattered pieces of what she knew of him into a picture that made any sense. “I don’t under—”

“Come,” he said, reaching out a hand. “I’ll explain everything. I promise.”

She slid her hand into his, the connection still warm, still comforting. Whatever he had to tell her, it couldn’t be too bad. Not when he touched her with such tenderness. In fact, she should be excited, she told herself as she let him lead her to the worn boulder where she used to sit and watch her snapping turtle. Logan was finally going to reveal his secrets. That meant he trusted her. Cared about her. Wanted to remove any barriers between them. That was a good thing, right?

Logan released her hand so she could sweep her skirts beneath her and take a seat on the stone. There wasn’t really room for him to sit beside her, but he stayed close, leaning a hip against the boulder.

Then he bent at the waist, picked up a pebble, and tossed it into the pond, sending ripples over the placid surface. The sight created an oddly unsettled feeling inside her. Not knowing what to do, yet not wanting to jabber about inanities when they both stood on the brink of a conversation that could dictate the direction of their future, Evangeline stuffed her mouth with another bite of peach.

Logan smiled, his eyes a little sad as he tilted his head toward the piece of fruit in her hand. “My mother would be glad to know her tree is producing so well.”