Page 8 of Apple of My Eye

All because Knox told Ash we needed help.

Dammit.

Why did that long-haired cowboy have to be like that? Steady and perceptive, and there, in the way I let no one be there before. Only I knew better than to lean on that. I knew exactly how fast things could be taken away without warning.

“Stop thinking about him.” My sisters came first. That vow was the only compass I trusted. But it was no use. Knox had been at the edges of my awareness all day—always in the next row or in view when I turned around. And the view was fine.

The manfilled out a pair of jeans as if they’d been custom-made. His broad shoulders flexed when he reached high for the apples. His hearty laugh echoed deeply around the orchard. I could still catch the faint trace of his aftershave hanging in the air.

My eyes closed. The warm water and the quiet cottage weren’t enough of a distraction from thinking about his calloused hands on the apple limbs. The way his voice dropped when he leaned in close with the eyes of a man who looked at me like he had all the time in the world to wait for me.

I flexed my fingers in the warm water, easing the ache from a long day’s picking. My hand slipped down my stomach before I could stop it.

Taking time for myself was usually the first thing sacrificed to exhaustion. But tonight there was no one waiting on me, and I let myself want it the way I only ever let myself want things when no one could see.

Everyone else came first. I always came last.

Not tonight.

I found my clit, and moaned his name, picturing him in his black cowboy hat.

“Knox. Yes, Knox.” I couldn’t stop, getting louder as I strummed myself and pulsed two fingers inside of me. It was crazy to think of him this way, but of any cowboy in the region, he’d be the one I’d go for. Which was why I pushed him away. Any fantasies I had about Knox had to be kept hidden, saved for only times like this when I needed relief.

“Knox. Mm. Knox.” I worked myself up, ready to let myself go at last. My legs shook, my core heated, water sloshed over the sides as something threatened to snap inside of mewith a rush, and all the pending excitement of letting go. I cried out, half in pain and half in delirium. “Oh, God. Oh, God!”

Then someone pounded on the cottage door.

“Daisy?” A man’s voice—Knox’s? The door swing open. “Are you okay?”

I yelped and yanked my hand back and sat up so fast the room tilted and bathwater spilled over. My mind reeled, dizzy when he appeared in the bathroom doorway, still in his flannel, jeans, and work boots.

With dark eyes, he raked me over with an expression I could only decipher as curiosity; then it turned to lust, ending with pure heat.

The corner of his lip curled up, mustache and beard with it, as if he knew exactly what I’d been up to.

Chapter Three

Knox

“Knox?Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you left.” Daisy’s face turned as red as the sweet berries Eldon and Anson used in their wine.

I hadn’t meant to scare her. I honestly thought she was in trouble, calling for me, a cry of help. But it was something else, and far more dangerous.

“I drove the guys to the ranch. Then I circled back to check on you. I thought I might find you here…” My voice hit a gravely range. “But not like this. Definitely not moaning my name.”

My eyes roamed over her. Not that I got much of a view from this position at the door, what with her arms crossed over her chest and a few patches of bubbles hiding the rest.

“You called out my name, Daisy.” There was no teasing in this. I knew what I had heard. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

The silence was immense. Her mouth opened and closed, eyes blinking, processing this.

“N-no. Box. I said box,” she insisted.

“Huh?” I quirked an eyebrow.

“I-I was thinking about how many bushels we picked today and about how many boxes I should order because we clearly don’t have enough and I think I could sell a ton more in the region if we had more boxes, like to stores and farmers markets we’d never supplied before beyond the count. Knox… sounds like box.” She ended on a weak note, one shoulder lifted. And then she hit me with an exasperated grimace when I clearly didn’t believe her. “I was tired and mumbling my to-do list to myself, okay?”

I crossed the room one careful step at a time, like getting too close might snap the tension between us. But I didn’t stop until I crouched down in front of the tub, my forearms on the edge, bringing us eye level. Her breath caught, and she shrank against the opposite side of the tub, eyes wide.