Page 46 of Take Me Home

The boy laughed and pushed me over onto my butt.

“Leo!” His dad was horrified. “Be nice!”

“It’s fine. He’s just showing me how strong he is,” I said. “You wanna put that energy into picking some peaches?” I looked to the dad for approval. I wasn’t about to touch anybody’s kid who didn’t want me touching them. He nodded and put his hands up in a ‘be my guest’ motion. “Can I pick you up, Leo?”

And that’s how I spent the afternoon picking peaches with a three-year-old until my arms ached from lifting him up to the tallest branches. I watched Darcy spin and twirl her—niece? Second cousin? I never knew how those relationships worked—her hair shining in the sun and her laugh infectious. This was one wholesome scene: a big loud family picking peaches and enjoying time together. And I was honored to be part of it. Despite feeling homesick for my own family, for how things were while my dad was still alive, I felt so at home with Darcy’s family. I loved watching how Darcy opened up, being more of her fun and boisterous self than the skittish deer she was with me. I burned with the urge to pull her behind a peach tree and kiss her senseless, to steal those smiles off her lips and swallow her laughs that decorated the air. I wanted to make them mine. More than anything after seeing her like that, I wanted to makehermine.

* * *

The spreadthe Rossettis put out was impressive: slaw dogs with “sauce” (which seemed like sloppy chili to me), macaroni and tomatoes, baked beans, and the coveted pasta salad (which they were right, was memorable). The family set up for the famous Wiffle ball game. I was on Eli’s team, with Brianna and Darcy on the opposite team. The smallest cousins were decked out in their red, white, and blue regalia, picking clovers in the makeshift outfield. Brianna snapped pictures. Darcy had changed into a plain white v-neck t-shirt that made her boobs look fantastic, those jean shorts that occupied way too much of my brain space, and some white sneaks, her own version of patriotic I assumed. Her hair trailed out of the back of a navy baseball hat in a curly ponytail.

Her team was up to bat first. I easily could have caught Darcy’s hit that went past me, but I pretended it was out of reach. Couldn’t play around with her if she wasn’t running the bases, and I was definitely going to make the most of this chance. On the next hit, I was due to tap her out at second base, but she wasn’t having it. She looked at me quickly before tucking her lower lip into her teeth and dashing into the outfield, prompting me to chase her. She wasn’t going down without a fight. She was surprisingly fast for being so much shorter than me. Turning on a dime, she sprinted back for the base.

It was a valiant effort. It really was. She’d almost made it when I plucked her off her feet from behind, pinning her to me at the waist. She squealed. She thrashed. She beat at my arms.

“I WAS SAFE!” she shrieked, grabbing onto my arms like she was afraid I’d fling her down. She was so close that I could inhale her fruity-flowery shampoo scent, along with the soft scent of her sun-warmed skin. I spun her around twice before setting her soundly on the base, the ball pushed into her stomach. I leaned down to her ear, still laughing.

“You’re out,” I said calmly. She stumbled out of my grip, landing ass-first on the ground. She acted like she was mad, but I knew she wasn’t. Her cheeks were rosy, her doe eyes wild, and her mouth holding back a smile. I noticed Brianna had been snapping pictures all through our ballyard tussle. I extended my hand down to help Darcy to her feet.

“Nice try, Rossetti,” I said, smiling wide to try and charm her.

“I was safe,” she argued as I helped her up, jamming a finger into one of my dimples. “But I guess I can’t embarrass a pro with my skills. You’d never live it down.”

“Uh-huh, tell yourself that,” I teased her. That made three outs, so her team was up to pitch.

Darcy pitched and Brianna was the catcher. I batted cleanup. Only Eli, Bri, and Darcy knew about my former pro status. I was ready to talk some major trash to the little Bambi on the pitcher’s mound.

“You’ve got no chance, Rossetti. This one’s going out of the park,” I taunted, doing my overly elaborate ritual of stepping up to the plate.

“We’ll see about that,” she said breezily, pulling her hat down and pretending to take signs from Brianna. She squared up to pitch. I had to jump out of the way of her pitch, which came in dangerously close to my beltline.

“Are you trying to hit me?” I asked, feigning outrage. “Don’t make me charge the mound.”

“Ooh, that’s a good idea. If I hit you and walk you, you’re probably less dangerous. Otherwise, I’ve got a potential three runs on my hands,” she said, acting nonchalant.

Her next pitch came in underhanded, and I swung and missed.

“1 ball, 1 strike,” Brianna called.

“Wait, are you the umpire too?” I asked, not believing the injustice of this game. Darcy threw her next pitch while I waited for an answer from Brianna.

“1 ball, 2 strikes,” Brianna called.

Oh, it’s fucking on now.

Darcy launched one last pitch. With a deep plastic thunk, I made perfect contact with the ball. I made a show of watching it fly as I ran. The toddler outfielders were useless against the long-driving hit. The two runners ahead of me scored. Darcy crabbed at her team to get the ball back fast before I could score another run. She caught it just as I crossed home plate, but I needed an excuse to touch her more. So, I dragged her off the plate by her waist as I ran by.

“He’s out!” Brianna cheered.

“No way!” I whined. “That was a third run.”

Darcy stepped close to me and dropped her voice. “Think again, all-star. You were out, fair and square.”

I stood so we were chest-to-chest, making myself as tall as I could to seem more intimidating. I employed my lowest, manliest voice. “You sticking with that answer, Rossetti?”

“You bet your ass I am,” she bit out, lunging at my face on the last part. Bad Attitude Darcy: a new version I really enjoyed. All of my willpower went into not hauling her over my shoulder and spanking her sassy little butt. Or rather, big butt. Darcy had a gloriously big butt that I was kind of obsessed with.

“You think you can scare me, little one?” I said, my tone definitely skewing toward the bedroom territory. Her eyes flicked down to my mouth and I knew she was thinking what I was. A wave of heat drifted off her body. The tension between us was palpable.

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