Page 51 of Whiskey Kisses

“Nah, it’s a simple question.” I follow her to the sunroom, where there’s now a long, wooden farmhouse table littered with herbs and bottles and weird-looking liquids. Hope she isn’t working on a spell to get rid of me. “Maribelle told me something interesting the other day … she said you liked me when we were kids. Is that true?”

Her shoulders stiffen, but she doesn’t confirm or deny. Instead, she keeps going, flinging open the back door and charging out into the garden where bags of soil and gardening tools of every shape and size are strewn across the grass. I grab Evie’s arm as she enters the shade, trying to get her to just stop for a second, but she turns suddenly, sweeping me with her foot. It’s the last thing I expect her to do, and I go down, landing on my ass in the soft grass. But I’m fast, too. Before she can take another step, I’ve hooked her ankle, toppling her right into my arms.

“Tristan!” She gives me an angry shove, smacking her palms against my chest. “Stop it!”

“Not until you tell me the truth.” Grunting, I roll her into a submission, pinning her with my hands and hips. The last time we were in this position, we were in a class full of people. Now it’s just Evie, me, the birds and the bees.

“Yes,” she says through clenched teeth. “I had a crush on you, okay? For a long time. Are you happy now?” In an abrupt burst of movement, she bucks her hips and rolls to the side, trying to slip away, but I pull her onto me, giving her the upper hand. Can’t help it. I really, really like the way she feels on top of me.

Grabbing her hips so she doesn’t go running off again, I give her a little shake. “Do you still?”

“Does it matter?” she asks, trying half-heartedly to peel off my hands.

“Yes.” I slide my hands up, breaching the hem of her tank top. Then, moving slowly up the sides of her torso, I skate my thumbs over the bottom of her ribs. She goes still, and I pause too, waiting for her to stop me. Or to answer me, whatever comes first.

“Yes.” Her hands fall to her sides as the last of the fight leaves her body.

Sitting up, I roll her gently onto her back again. Her eyes are more green than brown today, with undercurrents of blue. She stares up at me for just a second before slinging her arm over her face, hiding. That’s fine; there’s nowhere else for her to go. I trace the fine line tattoos on her forearm, elegant, minimalist renderings of leaves, vines, and stemmed flowers. They’re so Evie.

For the second time today, I pull her arm away from her face. “I didn’t fuck you last night because you were on another planet. Not because I didn’t want you.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself,” she says, her face still turned away. “You were being decent, and I appreciate it.”

“Obviously, I do have to explain myself because you took off this morning.”

“It’s fine, Tristan,” she says primly. “I know I’m not your type.”

“Bold of you to assume that you know my type.”

Her eyes narrow slightly. “Maribelle was.”

“I was fifteen,” I say with a scoff. “Every girl was my type back then.”

She shakes her head the tiniest bit. “Not me.”

“Not when you were twelve, no. But things are a little different now,” I say, pushing my semi into the cradle of her hips a little to show her what I mean.

Evie sucks in a sharp breath, her eyes finally meeting mine.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I roll to her side, giving her some room, but I don’t go far. Instead, I draw my fingertips up and down her thigh, watching her pupils dilate as goosebumps pebble across her petal-soft skin. “Why’d I have to find out from your skanky sister?”

A soft breath huffs past her parted lips. “Because I didn’t want you to know. You never should’ve found out at all.”

“Did you think I’d turn you down?” I ask quietly, unable to look away from those lips. I trail my fingers up the inside of her thigh, wondering if her other lips are the same shade of pink.

“I knew you would,” she says, breathing shallowly.

“But I told you, when we were going to get the marriage license, that we could …” I trail off, letting her fill in the blanks with her imagination.

“Be friends with benefits.” She grabs my arm as my fingers creep beneath the hem of her shorts, closing her eyes briefly before she focuses on me. “And I’m not into that.”

I can’t help the suggestive grin that takes over my face. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

She wrinkles her nose, her grip tightening on my arm. “Be serious, Tristan.”

I bite back a smile. I prefer this Evie to the self-pitying one for sure. “You don’t want to catch feelings. But it’s too late because it sounds like you’ve had them for a while.” I hover over her for a second before brushing my lips over hers. Gazing into her eyes, I see everything she’s tried to hide from me bloom in full color. Dipping down, I give her another whisper of a kiss, catching my teeth on her bottom lip as I pull away.

She draws a shaky breath when I reach her panties. “Tristan,” she whispers, her throat working as she swallows.

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