Page 10 of Apple of My Eye

I must have fallen asleep myself, because when I woke up with a jerk my body was stiff from staying in that position too long. My head had rested on my bicep, numbing my right arm. The dawn cast enough early light to see as I forced my eyes to fully wake.

“Hi,” she whispered, nothing but eyes peering out at me from a lump under the quilt. She was crouched against the opposite arm of the sofa in a little ball. “Better get a move on, cowboy. The guys should be here soon for another day of picking apples. My sisters are probably waking up. Things could get awkward if we have to explain what you’re doing here with me.”

“Right.” I stood and stretched, bones cracking the entire way. I’d pay for this backache all day, but it was worth everysecond to be in her presence. My cock bucked like a pissed-off bull. He’d love nothing more than morning sex, but I’d bet a wild ride was not at the top of her to do list today.

“So… still friends?” I checked.

“Of course.”

I headed to the door, trying as cool as fuck to keep things casual.

“Knox,” she called, and I turned back. “Thank you for yesterday. The guys, the biscuits—everything. It felt good to have help for once. So, thanks again.”

“Told you I’d be there for you. Maybe now you’ll believe me.”

“I believe you, I guess. I just…” She swallowed hard.

I moved to the couch and leaned my hands on the back of it, staring down at her. “What is it?”

“I think you want more than I’m able to give you.”

I cocked a brow. “The way you moaned my name last night might suggest you want me plenty.”

“I know there’s an attraction between us, but I’m not ready for anything serious.” She repeated about her sisters, and her responsibilities, arguing all her reasons like a lawyer. I listened and nodded.

Would this be life with Daisy? Take a step forward, and then two steps back? I searched her face and witnessed the return of all the anxiety she usually held there: skin tight, worried eyes, a wrinkle in her brow. Whatever it took, I knew I had to convince her to take a chance on me. On us. Someday.

“Hey, it’s fine. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. We’re friends. Only do me a favor, sweetheart? Would you call me when you need someone? Because I’ll come running everysingle time.” Our eyes locked, I winked, and then I was out of there before any more talk could ruin this.

In the dawning light, I meandered through the orchard, barely registering the rows of apple trees on either side that still hung heavy. In my head, there was only one woman who mattered now, but I needed to get real with myself. Daisy would be a challenge. Most men would cut their losses and call it a lesson learned. But I wasn’t most men. She wasn’t most women, and that was the whole damn problem.

I’d wait and be patient; I wasn’t walking away. I’d show her in whatever small ways she’d let me that I wasn’t going anywhere. When she was ready, I’d be the man standing right there beside her.

Chapter Four

Daisy

By nine inthe morning on the third day, the guys from the ranch had spread themselves across the orchard again. Thanks to the dozen pairs of hands, we’d finish today. Ash moved between groups, keeping them organized. Eldon started some kind of debate with Henry over whether apples were superior to peaches for cobbler. Colt had kissed Ivy once before heading to his row, and Sage had watched that with the expression of someone charmed by new love.

Knox had said hello to everyone—except me.

He’d only tipped his hat in my direction when he got out of the truck, then turned and hefted two bushels of apples as if they weighed nothing. No teasing. No sly grin or lazy, deliberate eye contact that made a woman forget everything.

We had danced wide around each other since that night at the cottage. Guess he got the message. All we could ever be was friends. So why, every time I glimpsed him between the trees, did it feel like something inside me sagged a little? Had I gotten so used to his unwanted attention, and now that I didn’t have it…?

The morning wore on in the warm autumn sun. I drifted to the fence near the house for water, where we’d set up a drinking station with jugs and cups, apparently the same time he did.

“Apple-picking is thirsty work,” he said, and reached for a cup when I did. Our hands brushed. Not enough to mean anything. Barely enough to count. But heat jumped up my arm anyway.

He filled his cup and leaned a hip and an elbow against the rail, casually sipping. I knew better. There was a set to his mouth this morning, as if he was keeping himself on a shorter leash than usual, none of his typical teases.

I looked everywhere but at him. The trees. The sky. A basket of sandwiches Willow had left on the porch. Anywhere.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked.

My grip tightened on the cup. “Some.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”