TYLER

Leaves crunch beneath our feet, grass swishing over my shoes as I walk side by side next to Margaret Marshall. Greenery surrounds us, punctuated by red little gems hanging ripe from the trees, and together we pause as Maggie finds an apple she likes, studies the fruit with fascination, and plucks it with joy.

I’m still staring at the curve of her ass in those tight jeans when she holds it up for me to inspect. “Uh, great,” I say, flustered. “Looks like an apple?”

She scowls, bringing out cute little lines around her eyes. “It’s the perfect apple.”

“What if there’s a worm inside?”

“Must you ruin every moment?” She flips the apple around, surveying every shiny surface there is. “Look—no holes.”

The damn apple isn’t what’s holding my attention, however. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from Margaret’s face in order to confirm the absence of holes.

The sun glints down, gentle and warm as it fights to hold onto summer, the chill of the wind giving hints of fall. The light bounces off Maggie’s red lips and glints off her eyes, her cheeks pink with exertion.

There’s a lightness to her step that I haven’t seen since I returned to Harp’s Haven, and she seems overjoyed at the simplest of things.

“Ugh, how can you not love fall?” She holds a hand out as a few leaves spiral down from the trees. “It’s the perfect time of year.”

I’m thinking a distinctly similar thought about perfection, but it doesn’t involve the weather. As Margaret marvels at the spinning leaves, I note the hair framing her face, a few pieces sticking to her shiny lips as she comes to a breathless halt. I want to brush that hair away and kiss those lips raw.

“Taste,” she instructs, and I go rigid.

“Uh...what?”

She rolls her eyes, the pink in her cheeks deepening to red. “The apple.”

When I don’t make a move to lean in toward her outstretched hand, she shrugs and brings the apple to her lips for a crunchy bite. Her eyes roll back in her head in bliss, and I’m wondering why this whole moment feels intensely intimate. There’s the glisten of sweet fruit juice on her lips, and I have the desire to taste...

“Try,” she encourages, her voice softer as she extends her hand once again. “It’s delicious.”

“Don’t you have to pay for that?” I cringe as soon as the words come out. Leave it to me to ruin the sexiest moment I’ve had in years by worrying about legality.

Maggie laughs and tosses her hair behind her shoulders. She sends me a wink. “I’m sure they’ll forgive you for one sample. How long has it been since you’ve been to an apple orchard?”

I lean in, my hand coming to rest on the trunk of the tree behind her, enveloping the pair of us in our own little bubble. My teeth clamp down, snapping off a bite of the apple, and as I pull back, Maggie’s eyes widen.

“Delicious,” I say, meeting her gaze and holding it there. I refuse to back away further. I’ve never enjoyed being closer to someone in my life—a sad, yet impossibly true fact. “But I bet this tastes better...”

I lean in and hover mere centimeters away. I run my tongue along her bottom lip, closing my eyes at the sweet, fresh taste before diving in for more. I devour her, my mouth parting hers as my hand reaches for her waist and pulls her close.

Margaret’s eyes widen, and then they close, sinking into the kiss. One arm curls around my neck while the other lets the apple drop from her hand. Her chest rises and falls, little breaths skittering across my cheek as she breaks the kiss and twines her hands through my hair.

I’m intoxicated with her in my arms. Her breath is halting, short little gasps that instantly send my pulse skyrocketing. “Maggie...”

Her eyes look at me, soft and forgiving. I can feel her opening up to me, waiting for the proper apology. I have it prepared; I’ve waited for this moment. Taking a deep breath, I begin, only to stop mere seconds later when the shrieks of little girls sounds too closely behind us.

I step back, reluctantly pulling my arm from the tree as Maggie shoots me a wistful look.

“To be continued,” I murmur, as the girls crash through the orchard and pop up at Margaret’s side.

“Margaret,” Jessica says, prepared to lodge a formal complaint with Mila’s mother. “Mila threw an apple at me. It almost hit my head.”

“I didn’t throw anything at you!” Mila shrieks. “Don’t be a baby.”

“How did an apple almost hit my head?” Jessica turns to Mila. “I almost died. You can die when things hit you in the head.”

“You weren’t going to die from one little apple,” Mila says. “Plus, it wasn’t on purpose. I just wiggled the tree trunk a little and some apples fell out.”

“Mila, apologize,” her mother insists. When Mila begins to argue with a whole lot of buts, Maggie gives her a glare that leaves no room for negotiation. “Even if it was an accident, you need to say you’re sorry.”

“Sorry,” Mila says. “But I didn’t throw it at your head.”

“Nope,” Maggie says. “Try again.”

This time, still sulking, Mila offers a more heartfelt response. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s go for a quick walk,” I tell Jessica, grabbing her hand. “Jess, it sounds like Mila didn’t mean to hit you with an apple.”

“So?”

“So, maybe she should have apologized, but I’m not sure you needed to tattle on her to her mother.”

“I didn’t tattle,” Jessica argues. “I was just telling the truth.”

“I know, honey,” I say gently. “But it was an accident. It’s not good for us to jump to hasty conclusions about someone else.”

“But the apple—”

“I know, but it didn’t hurt you. You’re fine, aren’t you?” I pull to a stop and clasp my arms over Jessica’s shoulders. “I don’t know the best advice to give you.”

“What does that mean?” Jessica frowns. “You’re my dad. You’re supposed to know everything.”

I sigh. “Unfortunately, I don’t. I’m figuring this out as I go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I guess there are definitely some things you don’t know.”

“Hey, now,” I say, “Watch it, little lady—I’m still bigger than you are.”

Jess leans into me, giggling as we come across a crumbling brick wall near the edge of the orchard. Together, we lean against it, and I pull her next to me, tucked against my arm. She won’t stay little for long, I remind myself. Already, the time has gone so fast.

“Listen,” I tell her, kneeling so we’re eye to eye. “I love you more than anything, and I am just trying to raise a happy and healthy daughter.”

“I know, dad.”

“Well, back there, do you think you could’ve let the apple thing go? Mila was just trying to shake some apples down. Accidents happen. She wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“I know, but—”

“Don’t you think it might be better to just forget about it and move on?”

“She could have hurt me.”

“But she didn’t mean to. And I don’t want you to get hurt, but sometimes when friends are involved, we have to give them the benefit of the doubt. We have to let things go.”

She bites her lip, and I can see her contemplating this.

“Mila’s a nice girl. She’s not perfect, and neither are you—even though I like to think so.” I offer her a wink. “Everyone makes mistakes, isn’t that right?”

“I suppose.”

“Maybe next time, instead of running to her mom, you can try and talk about it with Mila.”

“What do I say?”

I shrug. “Depends. You could’ve said something about the apples falling too close to you. I bet Mila would’ve apologized and stopped doing it.”

“Maybe.”

“Think about it, honey, okay? I just think...friends are really nice to have. Mila’s trying to be yours, so why don’t you give it a go and try to be hers, too?” I raise my eyebrows, desperately wanting my daughter to find a connection, to find someone who makes her laugh, who listens, who brings out the fun in her—before she grows up into an adult and the responsibilities of the world crash onto her shoulders. “What do you think?”

She pouts, but her eyes are bright. “I can try.”

“That a girl.” I kiss her on the forehead. “What do you say we grab us a cider and wait for the other girls to come in?”

“Actually...” Jess looks at her half-filled bag. “Maybe I can finish picking apples with Mila?”

I try to play the cool dad, and not acknowledge the fact that my heart is pumping with happiness for her. “Sure, I think that’d be fine.”

Jess runs off then, after wriggling free from my grasp, and I stay still for a long moment, watching as the blonde little girl and the brunette little girl have a tense standoff, and then both relax as they trot toward the nearest tree.

“Cute, huh?” Margaret says. “Jessica is really a nice girl.”

“So is Mila,” I say, masking my surprise of her arrival. “I hope they can figure out a way to get along.”

“Me too,” Maggie agrees, and her words are so quiet I’m wondering if she’s not talking about something else, lost in her own thoughts. “That’d be nice.”

I pat the bench next to me, but Maggie gives a wry smile. “We should probably get going. Their bags are going to burst, and I don’t want tears when they lose all their apples.”

The subtle rejection stings, but once again, I try to play the part of the cool guy. Standing, I shift my bag higher on my arm and then reach over to relieve Margaret of her bag.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” she says, her eyes subtly impressed as I hold two bags in one hand. “Isn’t that really heavy?”

“Nope,” I say, and that’s the end of that.

We stroll through the neat little rows of trees together, lazily following the pitter-patter of little girl footsteps. As the girls dart to a parallel row, I look over at Maggie, seeing her gorgeous hair streaming behind her, a look of contentment shining over her face. Only a slight ray of concern tugs her lips into a bit of a pout, and I ache inside, wishing I could erase all signs of worry.

On an impulse, I reach for her hand and tug it to my side.

“What are you doing?” she asks, more curious than annoyed.

I take that to be a good sign, and I offer her my own happy smile. “Holding your hand.”

She splutters a little bit, but she doesn’t pull away. Her hand is soft in mine, small, her fingers delicate little things that fit perfectly between my larger ones.

Her brows furrow together as we continue to walk.

“But...” she begins again, struggling for the right question. “Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“But...”

“Do you have a problem with it?” I clasp her hand even tighter, not daring to look at her.

“I just don’t understand.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m holding your hand. You’re holding mine back.”

“Couples hold hands.”

“Friends hold hands,” I say, nodding ahead to where Mila and Jessica have grasped hands, as well. “I enjoy being close to you. You don’t seem to want to kiss in public, so I thought this might be a nice option.”

“Hold on, Daniels. Who said anything about kissing in private?”

“Well, we’ve already done that.”

“Who said anything about repeating it?”

“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear, but I’m thinking about it.”

“Do I get a say in this?” She raises our joined hands.

“Of course,” I say, noting that her grip has become easier, more relaxed in mine. “But you haven’t pulled away. And, if you were truthful, I bet you’d admit to thinking about me naked, too.”

Her silence all but confirms my theory.

We stroll the rest of the way through the orchard in a strangely contented silence. I have to admit, I’d never thought handholding was a sexy thing. With Maggie, however, it’s so much more; her fingers tighten when she spots a perfect apple, and when she’s relaxed, her thumb moves unconsciously in soft little spirals over my skin.

Eventually, I’m the one who has to let go—for my sanity. If she doesn’t stop with the little twirls and the squeezes of excitement, I’m going to be looking for the nearest hotel that comes with child care services and a playground.

“What’s wrong?” Maggie asks when I pull away.

Mila and Jess have claimed a picnic table and are currently counting their loot from the day. I step around the corner of the hut, pulling Maggie with me. The girls can’t see us well from here, but we can see them just fine through the open window.

“Margaret.” My hands are on her waist, the bags of apples set on the ground as I pull her body against me. “How long are we going to fight this?”

“I barely know you, Tyler. What do you want me to say?”

“My name is Tyler Daniels. I’m from Harp’s Haven originally, but I moved to the city during college looking for adventure. I found it; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Now, I’m back. I’ve regretted losing the most incredible woman in the world since the day I left.”

“I can’t just forget everything.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to put it behind us and move forward so I can kiss you again.”

“I don’t know you anymore.” Her eyelids flutter. She glances quickly toward the girls, finds them occupied, and then returns her gaze to mine. “What do you do? Why are you here? How long are you staying?”

The real question, however, is scrawled across her face.

Will you leave me again?

That’s the truth she’s looking for. The answer I can’t give her because I don’t know it myself.

I hiss out a breath. “I’ll make sure things don’t end the same way they did last time.”

A steely look forms in her eyes at this. “You’re not ready to make any promises.”

“How can I? What do you want me to say? That I plan to stay right here and marry you?”

My voice breaks. Maggie quivers in my arms, blinking back what looks like tears.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry,” I say gruffly. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just—I want you so badly, and I don’t know what I can say that’ll make you believe me.”

“I believe you want me, Tyler. I’ve always believed that,” she says. “I don’t believe you’re willing to do what it takes to have me.”

“I wasn’t before. I am now.”

She speaks in a flat, defeated tone. “You’re not convincing.”

“What is it you want? Tell me, and I’ll give it to you!”

“I wanted you to marry me last time! I was young and stupid and—”

“So was I, and I wasn’t ready to be married.”

“I probably wasn’t either, but I wanted to be. I wanted you more than anything—no matter what, above all, that has always been clear to me. I was ready to grow up and learn what commitment means; you weren’t. Maybe you still aren’t.”

“Has always been,” I repeat. “Do you still have feelings for me?”

The silence is insurmountable between us. I’m convinced my heart has stopped beating.

“I can’t let myself want that,” she says. “I’ve spent too long wishing for you to say these words, and it’s just...”

“Too little, too late.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I get it.”

My hands come off her hips, and I bend to retrieve the bags. Before I can, she stops me.

“Wait.” She stands before me, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. “Tyler...”

Her hands reach for me, tug me upward and lock me against her. She grasps for my face, my hair, and it takes me just a second to see the desperation in her eyes. The way she’s looking at me to prove her wrong. To prove that I need her as much as I know I do.

If this is the challenge, it’ll be an easy one; after all, they say the truth always wins, right? It’ll take time, but I’ve got all the time in the world. My hands return to her hips and my gaze settles on hers—the only place in the world where it belongs.

“I know your trust won’t come easy,” I tell her, my lips brushing lightly against hers. I harden at the sound of her moan. She doesn’t want to talk, she wants to feel—and I understand that. “Maggie, listen.”

Maggie doesn’t want to listen. She collapses against the wall, pulling me with her. I’m powerless against her, and finally, I give in. My hands slide over her soft curves, and I savor the feel of her everywhere. I smooth her hair, down her back, cup the gentle curve of her bottom.

I’m having a flashback from the laundromat, and it’s grinding at my self-restraint.

This time around is different. Emotion drips from every nip, lick, and touch. Our tongues tangle. I pull every little gasp from her lips with a tenderness that’s come from years of regretting my choice to walk away. I need to have her more than ever—to give her all I have and lay myself empty at her feet.

When we separate, there’s a vacuum between us, a senseless void that I long to fill with another embrace. Now is not the time, nor is it the place, but around Margaret, my logic seems to be a little dysfunctional.

“Maggie.” I cup her cheek and look into those pretty brown eyes, so sweet and hopeful. “I don’t know what you want me to promise you.”

“I don’t know, either. It’s not only your fault; you asked me to go with you.”

“Selfishly. Because I wanted the best of both worlds.” I pause, knowing the painful truth of it. “You just wanted me.”

She blinks, more furiously this time.

“I won’t make the same mistakes I did last time,” I say, meaning every word of it. “I can’t promise you I won’t make other mistakes. But I am falling right back in love with you, Margaret Marshall, and I’m begging you to give us a chance.”

Unable to speak, she nods, her hands resting on my chest. They’re so small there, so fragile. I wrap my hands around hers and hold them there.

“I’ll think about it,” she says, finally making eye contact with me as she backs away. “I’m going to try.”