Page 65 of You Had Me at Chocolate

Clem watched as his long-legged stride took him across the yard, passed the boxed beds and the greenhouse and straight to a tree toward the back that she couldn’t see well from her vantage point. He plucked something off a branch before heading back again, his warmth breath misting into the cold air as he grinned at her.

She couldn’t help but grin back. Jude was good-looking at the best of times but with that big ol’ smile, he was sexy. Taking the four porch steps two at a time, he brandished his treasure.

“Is that an apple?” she asked as he approached.

“Yes, ma’am, it is.” He came to a stop in front of her. “Hold out your hand.”

Clem rolled her eyes but she held it out and he placed his find in the center. It was cold in her palm and small, also quite shriveled. But it was most definitely an apple.

“It’s an orchard,” he said unnecessarily, his face practically aglow with the discovery. “It’ll need a bit of tending to but…” He grinned. “I have an apple orchard.”

Clem’s heart just about burst with the pride and possession in his voice, as if he’d given birth to the damn thing. “You have an orchard, huh?” she teased because if she didn’t the sudden tightness in her throat might take over.

He nodded. “I do now.”

Clem looked down at the apple in her palm. It didn’t look remotely inviting and she sure as shit wasn’t going to take a bite of it but a surge of tears welled then and it didn’t matter how much she swallowed and blinked to halt their progress, they were unstoppable.

This was Jude’s apple. And she wanted it to be hers, too. Because, goddamn it, she loved this man. She was in love with Jude Barlow—childhood friend, celebrity chef, roomie.

The feelings from last night, the ones that had been growing and growing and she’d been ignoring—they weren’t nostalgia or a result of him being here for her when she needed him or all the stress she’d been under.

This was love.

From the moment he’d arrived presenting her with an engagement ring to this moment presenting her with an apple, he had become such an integral part of her life. She couldn’t even pinpoint a moment when she’d fallen for him, it just glowed in her chest with sudden clarity and certainty.

Big and inescapable and so freaking inconvenient.

She’d always assumed love, when it happened, would come in like wrecking ball. Thank you, Miley Cyrus. She hadn’t realized it could launch a stealth attack. That it would tiptoe into her life and her heart and take over slowly and gently and surely until it built to the point of undeniable.

Unable to stem the tears any longer, one escaped, plopping down onto the ruched red skin. It was useless to hope he hadn’t seen it considering he was looking at the damn apple like he was about to write it into his will.

“Clementine?” His voice was low and urgent as he plucked it out of her hand. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, turning away from him, placing her hands on the cold railing again. “Nothing.”

But he followed, standing beside her, his body turned into her, his belly pressing into her elbow. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m fine.” She shook her head as she cleared her throat. “It’s just beautiful is all.”

“The apple?”

If Clem hadn’t been so close to losing it, she’d have laughed at the incredulous streak in his voice. “Yes.”

He snorted. “This is my apple and I love it but it is the sorriest, most butt-ugly looking apple I’ve ever seen, Clementine, so cut the bullshit. What’s wrong?”

She turned away as two more tears fell. “It’s freezing out here,” she said, heading for the relative warmth and distance of inside, dashing at the tears as she went.

“Clementine,” he called after her but she wasn’t stopping, striding across the room that would be so beautiful once Jude had done it up and not stopping.

He was hot on her heels though, catching her up near the door which she got open about an inch before he put his hand up high on the wood, shutting it again. “I’m fine, Jude,” she said, choking on a sob, pressing her forehead to the back of the door, aware, as his warmth surrounded her, of how close he was behind.

God she was dissolving at a rate of knots now, her heart beating frantically. It seemed the more she tried to pull herself together, the more she fell apart.

“You’re not,” he growled, his breath ruffling her hair. “Please.” The hand he had up high slid down the door to her shoulder. “Turn around. Please talk to me.”

Clementine swallowed the urge to stay where she was and just sob but it was bad enough she was crying, he didn’t need the whole snot crying mess. She scrubbed at her tears and turned, prepared to fob him off with anything but the truth. Anything to put him off so she could get out and away and regroup.

Think about this for a moment devoid from the rawness of her discovery.

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