Page 37 of Fall Love

“I can’t pick apples,” Neve gripes. “I can’t even touch my toes.”

“Good thing you don’t need to bend down then. You only need to reach up.” I set the car in Park and turn my head toward her. She’s still staring at me when I shove open my door. I quickly round the car and open her door. The seat is low, so I hold out my hand to help her stand.

At first, she just stares at it, then glances up at me. “I got it.” She awkwardly shifts, lugging her legs out of the opening and bracing her hand on the open door and the back of the seat.

“Has anyone ever told you that you are stubborn?”

“Almost every day of my life,” she mumbles, struggling to stand, until I slip my arm around her and give her a gentle push. The move draws her close to me, and she glances up once she’s standing.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is low as our eyes meet.

“You could have just taken my hand,” I remind her.

“I couldn’t watch you swipe it through your hair again.” She looks away and shrugs off my arm around her back.

“About that . . .” I say, tempted to run my hand through my hair. “It’s a nervous reaction. I’ve been told everyone has little tics and tells when they are anxious, and mine is digging my fingers into my hair.” I chew at my lip instead. “And you make me nervous.”

“Me?” she chuckles.

“You scare the hell out of me.”

She sets one hand on her hip. “Because I’m stubborn? Or is it because I’m irrational and reactive, as my sisters have told me? I’m too hard on people.”

“Actually.” I sheepishly glance to the side before looking back at her. “It’s because I know what you’re like when you’re soft.” The sounds she makes. The glide of her hand over my skin. The smoothness of hers.

“Oh, buddy,” her voice lowers and points between us. “That ship has sailed. I’ll never have sex again. I haven’t had sex since—” She clamps her lips and pulls her eyes from me, like she’s said too much.

“I haven’t had sex since you either,” I admit, standing a little taller. Almost relieved that we both have the same history.

Her head whips back in my direction. Her gaze roams up my body, starting at my shoes and moving up to my waist, then leaping to my face.

“Why not?” she blurts, like she’s offended for me.

My cheeks heat, but I shrug. “Despite what you might, or might not, think of me, I don’t sleep around. Our interlude was something that hasn’t happened in a long, long time. I’m more of an endgame guy than a one-night stand man.”

Her head tilts, and I brace for her to ask me what the endgame means. Instead, she says, “Who calls an incredible sexual experience an interlude?”

Apparently, I just did, but I agree with her. Our night was an incredible experience. One I haven’t been able to forget or move past. And glancing to her belly, perhaps I know the reason. Like something was holding me back, something knew all I ever wanted was around the corner. Right here in Lovewell Landing.

“Is that a compliment? Are you saying we were amazing together?” Because I want us together. At the very least, I want us to have an amicable relationship. A partnership in raising our child.

But deep down, I know I want more with this sharp, hard woman who has haunted my thoughts for months. A woman who cares deeply about her family’s business and has an obviously strong relationship with her sisters. Fisk already warned me that if I had nefarious intentions toward Neve, he’d murder me, and it’s difficult to break his shell of a heart. If he’s protective of Neve, she’s good people.

And I want to be her person.

The one she leans on when she can’t get out of a car. The hand she reaches for, not just the one she holds.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she mutters in response to my question, but the corner of her mouth curls upward.

“And just so we’re clear about the hand holding. I want to hold your hand, Neve. If you’ll let me. I want to be here for you. You and the baby.”

She squints while glancing toward the farm. “Let’s just try to make it through apple picking.”

I can do that. I want to do that.

“Got it,” I say, giving her a thumbs up, like some awkward, high school nerd. That’s what she reduces me to.

She laughs at my thumb in the air, then surprises me when she reaches out and wraps her hand around it, shoving it playfully aside.