Page 42 of Apple of My Eye

Another snap. I gasped.

A deer. Had to be. They came for the apples we left out, moved through the far field after dark, and were certainly the explanation for every sound coming from the orchard tonight. Almost certainly.

Headlights came barreling up the driveway.

I recognized the engine before the truck fully materialized, and I let out a breath that I had apparently been holding since the first twig snap.

Knox.

Relief spread through me warmer than I cared to admit.

He parked and got out, and jogged up the porch steps—hair loose and curly from a recent shower, a tight dark henley pulling across his chest in the cold air, featuring his pecs prominently. He settled onto the swing beside me without asking, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and used his feet to rock us.

We sat in the October quiet together. Neither of us said anything for a minute, and then another, and it was not uncomfortable.

“Did you do some baking?” He asked.

“Hm-hmm. Dumplings.”

“Save one for me?”

“Maybe. Maybe even two.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Really, Knox, I’ll be fine here,” I tried to convince him—and myself. “You don’t have to keep coming back. I have a rifle right over there.”

“I noticed.” His voice was breezy. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why?”

He took his time in answering. “Because I’ll always be watching over you, Daisy. Whether or not you need it. That’s just how it is for me, because I care. Maybe I care too damn much.”

I froze, chilled by his sweet words. They moved through me and attached to something I had not expected them to find—a memory, old and cold, that lived in a part of me I kept carefully guarded.

Trevor’s voice…“I’ll always watch you, Daisy.”Only his was thick and menacing with a threat.

A different time, a different sort of watching.

I sat with both things at once—that memory with Trevor and this moment with Knox, the same shape of words meaning entirely different things depending on who was saying them, and why, and what lived in their eyes when they did.

I knew the difference between the two men deep in my bones.

Trevor’s version of watching had been full of red flags. There when I never wanted him. Keeping me worried, constantly looking over my shoulder.

Knox’s was sleeping on top of my covers fully dressed andholding me while I slept. Or showing up this morning with a box of hardware and installed it all. The kind of man I could trust with the weight of my life if I ever got brave enough to put it down for a minute and let someone else carry the load.

“Stay, Knox,” I whispered. I had decided and was done arguing with myself about it. “Take me to bed and stay with me.”

He turned his head and measured me in the dark, and whatever he found in my face was enough.

He stood and held out his hand.

I took it.

Chapter Twelve

Knox