Page 62 of Fighting

“You’re smart too, just in a different way. I see it.” Nessa presses a palm to my pec. Can she feel how fast my heart’s beating? How stupid I feel admitting to the lame reason I said what I did?

“Regardless, what I did was wrong. I was young and stupid. So stupid. You walked in, looking so grown up. Truly, you didn’t look like a little girl anymore. You did look like… well, youlooked as gorgeous as you do now, Ivy.” My chest tightens at the memory. “You caught my eye, and somehow, the hormones and the jabs between the boys turned my brain to mush. So I opened my mouth to make a joke, thinking I’d keep the same energy. Instead, I bombed. Hard.”

Blowing out a breath, I duck my head, letting the shame engulf me.

“Can I?” I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Can I just make a joke of this all right now so I can say it?”

“Sure.” She presses a little harder, like she can slow my racing heart.

“Then the vicious girl, Poison Ivy, clapped back. She shouted, ‘You can’t suck a dick you can’t find, Mr. Chow,’referencingThe Hangover. Then she stormed off.”

I hang my head, knowing there is no comparing the two, wincing at the thought of meeting her gaze.I really am a fucking idiot.The silence stretches on, but neither of us moves. The only sounds are the leaves of the trees rustling in the wind and the periodic exhales we take.

Breaking the silence, Nessa croaks, “Did I really say that?”

“In front of the whole team, and all your friends. You didn’t let me get away with shit. How the guys turned that into a story about anything other than how you handed me my ass is insane. They called me Chow for months after that.”

I chance a look at her. Her lips quirk, and then a giggle slips free. That laugh causes all the tension to evaporate.

I lean in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let it out. Can we laugh at how horrible teens are?”

That earns me a full smile and a chuckle.

Laughing together feels good.

Leaning closer, I whisper, “I am truly sorry, and you’ll never have to do anything you don’t want to. You’re in charge. You’ll always call the shots.”

Her laughter dying, she slides her hand to the back of my neck and guides me down until our noses touch.

Eyes glimmering with mischief, she says, “You started it, but I guess this will finish it.” With a whimper, she crushes her lips to mine.

All at once, it’s frantic. Like we can wipe the slate clean. Start fresh and be free of those memories. A real chance. I part my lips and lick into her mouth lightly. The air around us grows warmer, my skin flushes, my muscles tense. My cock stirs to life as our kiss deepens, but we’re yanked from the frenzy when a heavy cough cuts in.

“Sorry to interrupt, but since you were busy, I got these.”Liam points at the large crate of apples on the front seat of the golf cart.

Heaving a few breaths, we turn to him. If I look anything like Nessa, we’re both flushed and glassy-eyed.

twenty-five

Nessa

Once we’ve returnedto the main farmhouse, Liam hauls the apple crate, shepherding us in through the kitchen door. While I’m at the sink washing my hands, I catch him discreetly pass something to Mateo.

Mateo steps behind me at the sink, caging me into his arms. I’m pressed between his body and the basin so firmly I can’t even turn. With a weighty clink, he pops a mason jar on the counter next to me.

“Liam grabbed you some fresh honey to bring to your folks too. There’s even a piece of the comb inside. Look,” he whispers.

My face heats from the thoughtful gesture, and I’m glad I can’t turn to see him just now. The earlier stomach flutters return and I feel almost hazy, forgetting where we are or who else is around.

The spell is broken when Liam boyishly shoves Mateo over and says to me, “excuse me, not-Vanessa,” as he scoots me to the side. He fills a glass with water from the tap and chugs it, giving an exaggerated, “ah.”

“Back to work with you.” Gran swats the air while giving Liam a firm stare. Looking around, I see that she’s laideverything out in premeasured cups and created a workstation on the butcher block island for us.

“Mrs. Kelly, you didn’t have to go to this much trouble for us,” I say while struggling with the apron neck loop.

“Here, let me,” Mateo says, then gently places the neck strap over my head and tenderly sweeps my long hair out from underneath. His touch skims the back of my neck, then traces down my spine, leaving a buzz of electricity in its wake.

Grasping the waist ties, he pulls them taught. “This okay?” he quietly asks, loosening his hold before making a bow. He lets his hands graze and linger on my lower back.

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