Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I glanced over at her, seeing that she, too, was staring up into the night sky. “Do you remember Gladys Turnbull?” I asked.
“Oh my God, you were always in trouble with her,” she said with a laugh. “Do you remember how often you raided her garden and she’d catch you and chase you down the street, yelling?”
“Weekly,” I replied, laughing with her. “She and Mr. Kaufman—they grew great carrots and the best potatoes around. His peas were always so sweet. I ate them by the handful. I loved to raid their gardens.”
“You were always in trouble with them,” Kassie scolded me gently. “And you’d make it worse when you’d call her Mrs. Happy-bum.”
I laughed, having forgotten that. “Glad-ass, happy-bum, what was the difference?”
We both chuckled.
I wiped my eyes. “I was always in shit with them and a bunch of other people.”
“You used to get me into so much trouble,” she teased. “I was forever in scrapes because of you.”
I grinned in remembrance. “We were a great pair,” I said. “Constantly in trouble, yes, but what fun we had.”
She nodded, picking up her cup of coffee and taking a sip. “We did have a lot of fun.”
“So you have some good memories of us, then?” I asked without thinking.
Kassie was quiet for a moment, and I looked over at her to find her staring at me. Her expressive eyes were wide, guileless, and soft. So very soft as they looked at me. “I’ve always had good memories of that time. They were the ones I remembered the most.”
I turned in my chair, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees as our gazes met. “I’d do anything not to have you hate me.”
“That’s the funny thing of all of this. I never could quite hate you. I was hurt, upset, angry, and sad. But I could never bring myself to hate you. You were my first love.” Our eyes held, locked, the air around us growing warmer, filled with emotion, memories surfacing and taking hold—ones that I had locked away for so long hitting me squarely in the chest as I looked at her. I stood and rounded the table, stopping in front of her chair. I bent so our faces were close. So close I could feel her warm breath on my skin. “You were my first love too. My last one as well.”
Her beautiful eyes widened, and her fast intake of breath was startled. I leaned closer then pressed a kiss to the end of her nose, the way I used to do when we were young. “You always will be, Kassie.”
I straightened, staring down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her hand laid on her chest that rose and fell quickly as she regarded me. I wanted to bend down and kiss her. Hold her. Instead, I touched her cheek.
“Thank you for dinner. And I’ll cut the grass while I’m here. Stop arguing.”
I left before I did something we’d both regret.
Or at least, she would.
Nothing I ever did with Kassie could bring me regret.
Except leaving her.
11
KASSIE
Oliver left, the trail of his spicy, warm cologne staying behind. I remained seated, trying to catch my breath.
What the hell just happened? I wondered.
I had been certain he was going to kiss me. It shocked me how much I’d wanted him to. After everything we’d been through, after the heartache and him walking away, I couldn’t believe I still wanted him to kiss me. But I did.
It had been a great evening up until that point. Lots of laughter, some sharing conversation, and many fun memories. And then suddenly, it had gotten serious. Deep. Intense.
Shaking my head to clear it, I stood and cleared the dishes, carrying them into the kitchen. I put away the leftovers and loaded the dishwasher, recalling I hadn’t given Oliver the pies I’d made him again. Before I could rethink it, I headed upstairs and knocked on his door.
He opened it with a frown. “Kassie,” he began. “Is everything all right?”
I thrust the little pies toward him. “I meant to give you these, and I forgot.”
He took the pies with a wide smile. “These are great, thank you. I love blueberry. It’s my favorite.”
“I know,” I replied. “I remembered.”
Oliver bent down to brush a kiss to my cheek, just as I turned my head, and his lips met mine. For a moment, neither one of us moved. Then his hand slid to the middle of my back, pulling me closer, his mouth pressing more firmly. I knew I should pull away, step back and break this connection. But I didn’t.
Instead, I glided my hand up his neck, burying my fingers into his thick, dark hair and whimpering as he kissed me. I swam in a sea of memories I swore I had forgotten. All the times we’d kissed in the past. How much I loved kissing him.