Page 118 of Off Limits

“Oo! Look at this one!” I hold it out in the palm of my hand, cheeks hurting at the smile on my face.

“Shay, that one’s so tiny. We can’t eat it.”

“I know. But it’s so cute! It’s a baby apple.”

“Fine, toss it in.” He waves his hand in the air with a tone that says he gave in too easily. Which he does where I’m concerned.

I clap excitedly as I skip over to place it in the bag with the others. It looks even smaller in comparison.

He follows behind me as I keep picking and dropping. Since he’s finished his snack, he stands with a hand in his pocket, smile on his face and glimmer in his eyes, as I flit from tree to tree, looking for what I feel are the best of the selection.

“Oh! I want that one, but I can’t reach it. Will you get it for me?”

“I have a better idea.” Lochlyn walks up right behind me and puts his hands on my waist, lifting me into the air. My hands fly to his and I shriek as he lifts me onto his shoulders. Once sitting, my fingers tangle in his hair for a moment while I get my bearings. “You good?”

“Mhm. Just wasn’t expecting it.” Holding my calves, he takes a step closer to the tree so I can reach out and grab the one I want. I’m almost taller than the tree now. They’re not very large, but it’s the perfect height to reach the apple I want, plus a few others that are on the other side, but I couldn’t see from the bottom. “Okay.”

“All set?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, hold on to those. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Flying through the air, even secure in Lochlyn’s grasp, isn’t my favorite thing in the world. Placing his hands back on my waist, he lifts me and slowly sets me on my feet.

Before I can move, he pulls me against him, his hard chest against my back. Leaning in, he kisses down the side of my neck. “I love you,” he murmurs against my ear.

Spinning to face him, my lips briefly meet his, easier in his bent over state. “I love you too.”

Straightening up, Lochlyn holds the bag out. “Do we want to fill this with all the same kind, or we do want to try a few others?”

“I picked the first apple and the first variety, so you make the next decision.”

“Alright. Let’s see.” Pulling the list back out, he glances over it. “How about Cortlands? The town isn’t too far from here. And we know we like them.”

“Sounds like as good a reason as any, if you ask me.”

It doesn’t take us long to find the rows of Cortland apples. When we get back to the same booth we started at, there’s a line of people leaving. Lochlyn pulls me into his side, kissing the top of my head and running his hand up and down my arm.

My hair is blowing around my face as the wind picks up intensity. The sky is a darker and more ominous shade of gray, making me think rain isn’t far off.

Once it’s our turn to pay, Lochlyn makes small talk that I half listen to while staring up at the sky and the impending storm. Though I’m distracted, it registers with me that Lochlyn asks about pronouncing the name of the apple, and gets an answer that basically suggests, while there are some variations, the way we were saying it is, in fact, correct.

It’s not until he grabs my hand that I draw my attention from the scenery and focus on him instead. We put the apples on the floor of the backseat to try to avoid spillage.

“Why don’t we head over to the shop and get some treats?”

“They do smell good. And we should get cider. Hot cider is perfect on a day like today.” Just the thought makes my mouth water.

“Cider it is.” Holding his hand outstretched toward me, I take it, linking my fingers with his.

A light smile has been planted on my face since we started picking. As usual, Lochlyn knows just what I need. The fresh air doesn’t hurt either.

The heavenly smell of fresh baked pastries of many varieties and brewing coffee greets us as we walk into the shop on the other side of the orchard. One wall has glass cases, filled with various baked goods. Another has more glass cases, but the contents look darker, like chocolate. There’s a station with loose candy, an area in the far back that looks like collectables such as mugs and shirts. Right next to the checkout are three glass door refrigerators, stocked full with cider.

I’m not even sure where to start, and looking over at Lochlyn, he isn’t either. Setting my sights on the pastries, I pull him behind me. Once I’m standing in front of the case, I can’t decide. There are so many choices, and I’m not entirely sure what the difference is between them aside from the way it looks.

In the case in front of us, there are strudels, turnovers, and fritters, all apple. Plus, there are non-apple treats like various pies, bear claws, croissants, and cookies. I don’t even know how to narrow it down. To make it even more difficult, they also make fresh cider donuts, which both look and smell amazing.

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