Chapter 21 #2
Monty leans in close and I’m hit with the woodsy smell of the bonfire; I think the smoke is clinging to his soft flannel shirt and it’s taking everything in me not to sink my face into his chest and inhale the scent.
“Your books were filled with a treasure trove of ideas, Xuxuzinho. But then I started to think about the way you probably touched yourself while reading them…” He whispers against my ear and I shiver. “You did, didn’t you?”
His lips ghost against the nape of my neck and I squirm.
Ever since he kissed me, it feels as though something changed in Monty. First, he admitted he wanted to kiss me all those years ago—a fact I still can’t believe—and now he’s talking about how I touch myself. My entire body runs hot.
A loud clap pulls me from my stupor, and I glance over to see Rayna a few feet away, trying to get everyone’s attention.
“I wanted to thank you all for coming out to our seventeenth Apple Pick!” she calls out to the crowd.
“And thank you to the Oakley family for your generosity. Don’t forget to submit pictures in the town chat of your apple creations by tomorrow.
The winning prizes this year are a real treat: a free haircut from Babs and Mindy at A Breath of FresHair and dinner at Wicked Wine and Cheese! ”
Monty turns to me. “So what are we making?”
I snort. “Excuse me? We?”
“Yeah.” He flashes me a wicked grin. “I want that haircut.”
I glance at his gorgeously thick dark hair and shake my head. “Don’t you dare let Babs anywhere near you with her foils.”
That woman likes to give highlights to everyone.
“You trying to tell me you like my hair, Xuxuzinho?”
My cheeks heat every time he says that word now—I can’t believe he’s been calling me sweet pumpkin all these years.
I glance toward the orchards, refusing to answer his question.
“Well, if you really want to bake something, we better go pick some apples.” Maybe he could join in with the girls; maybe Eli and Walker will come, too.
Monty’s warm palm settles into mine, squeezing it reassuringly. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
It takes us about a half hour to get from our station to the orchard as we’re stopped multiple times by Hope Harbor residents, the Liberty Ladies, and even my sister—fortunately Daisy started eating all the apples in one of the displays, which meant Tally was called away and we could finally make it to the apple trees.
I’m carrying the bag to collect the apples while Monty holds the picnic basket he brought with him. I keep eyeing it, wondering what he’s got in there.
“God, this is gorgeous,” I murmur as we walk down another emerald-green path that sits between rows upon rows of apple trees.
The sun dips lower, creating a hazy golden glow throughout the entire orchard.
While my family loves the bright tulips, wildflowers, and daffodils that adorn our farm in spring, I’ve always been a slut for red apples and orange pumpkins.
“I agree, the view is gorgeous,” Monty teases, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me close, those green eyes staring right into mine.
I nudge him in the ribs and he pulls away laughing.
“Don’t fake flirt with me!” I reach for an apple from one of the trees as I try to steady my racing heart. “Oh, I thought of something to add to the festival to help raise money.”
Monty’s eyes lift, curious to hear more.
“It was actually our dancing the other night that inspired the idea.” My heart races as I think of the way his eyes bored into mine as he spun me around the living room, the fire crackling beside us, the storm raging outside.
We were in our own little world, that classic Billie Holiday song playing in the background.
It was one of the most romantic moments of my life.
Which is ironic considering it’s all fake. I’d laugh if any of this was funny. But these feelings swirling in my chest, the ones I can’t quite ignore as easily as I have done for years, make the memory hard to brush off.
“My dancing skills were very impressive. I could see how they’d inspire you.”
I shove his arm away, grateful for the lighthearted distraction. “I was thinking we could do a dance-off at the Fall Ball.”
“Isn’t that what they do at the Spring Fling?”
“But ours would be different because we’d pair high school students with people from the senior center. And I’m thinking classic dance tunes for this one: Billie Holiday, Sinatra…”
Monty hums, a soft smile on his face. “Etta James, the Rat Pack.”
“All of your grandfather’s favorites.”
“That’s…” He sucks in a lungful of air as his hand goes to my cheek. “So like you.”
“So you think it’s a good idea?”
“I think it’s a great idea, Xuxuzinho.”
We stare at each other for more seconds than I think I can stomach. As his eyes dip to my lips, I get the feeling he wants to kiss me. I know I want to kiss him, but we can’t do that again. Today’s lesson is about dirty talk. And dirty talk does not require kissing.
I snag another apple from behind his head and toss it in the air. “I think we have enough apples.”
Monty licks his lips, nodding as he stalks away from me.
“What are you doing?” I call, even as I watch him stop beneath an apple tree to set up a red-and-black-plaid blanket.
“Taking a redo of our date last week.” Monty waves me over to where he’s stopped. “The rain ruined it. Plus, I’ve got pie.”
I’m immediately hit with the memory of his text from earlier, about him wanting to feed me. My stomach clenches and my chest flashes hot.
It’s fake. All of this is fake. You can eat some pie with your fake boyfriend and not dry hump him.
The trouble is, despite my internal reprimand, the moment Monty settles down on the soft blanket, and his emerald eyes lift to mine, I become a gooey mess.
The slutty glasses were bad enough. But the sexy fall setting, complete with a blanket beneath an apple tree and the dazzling autumn afternoon sun, is downright diabolical. And then, when Monty pulls out an entire pumpkin pie, I’m utterly wrecked and ready to drop to my knees for this man.
“Where did you get that?” I ask as I try to daintily drop onto the blanket, folding my legs to the side since I’m in a skirt.
“Vovo and I made it last night.”
“First you cook, now you bake? I don’t think you need my help learning how to be a good book boyfriend, Jake Montgomery.”
He appears pleased by that, though he doesn’t offer a response, instead grabbing a fork from the basket. Like a man after my own heart, he doesn’t cut the pie, but goes right into the middle and scoops out a bite before holding the fork up to my lips.
“Please, Xuxuzinho, let me feed you.” His words are as sexy as sin but it’s his next demand that has me whimpering. “Open.”
When the creamy cinnamon-pumpkin flavor hits my tongue, the next moan I make is for the food. “That’s incredible.”
Monty grabs another forkful and uses it to coax my mouth open again. Shit. This bite is even better. Is it possible to orgasm over a dessert? I’m getting wetter by the second and I’d like to pretend it’s because of the pie and not my fake boyfriend.
Monty reaches to scoop up another bite and I shake my head.
“Unless you want a full-on Meg Ryan moment right now,” I warn him, “I wouldn’t do that.”
“That would mean you’re faking it.” Monty smirks. “And I assure you, Xuxuzinho, there’s no need to fake anything when you’re with me.”
I cough out a laugh. “What we’re doing is the definition of fake!”
He drops the fork in an instant. One minute, I’m upright on the blanket, laughing at him, and the next he’s lunging toward me, pulling me onto his lap and tickling me.
“I’ll show you fake,” he taunts as I gasp between giggles.
I’m extremely ticklish and can barely breathe as I beg him to stop. I try to pull back, but he grabs my thighs to stop me from moving. And that’s when I realize two things. One, I’m straddling Monty. Two, his lips are just a breath away from mine.
The urge to kiss him, to meld our mouths together, tangle our tongues, and never stop, is impossible to ignore.
Monty’s eyes narrow as I wet my lips.
“Sorry,” I mumble, attempting to shift back and create some space between us. But at the sound of voices, Monty wraps an arm around me, holding me in place.
“Shhh.” He presses a finger to his lips.
The voices get louder—I recognize Babs’s loud laugh—and I squirm, knowing we’re about to be caught.
“We should invite them back to your house to help us bake,” I hear Mindy say from somewhere nearby. “See if they’re really dating.”
My eyes widen as I clock they’re talking about us.
“Yeah, I tried to set her up with Sawyer but she got all butthurt because he’s eighteen.” I grit my teeth at Babs’s ruthlessness. “The boy has his driver’s license. So what if he’s still in high school? It’s legal.”
“Oh, I think it’s real,” I hear Rayna cut in. “Did you see the way Monty kept whispering in her ear today? That boy is smitten.”
Monty’s lips twitch into a smile as the voices get louder, signaling the Liberty Ladies’ imminent approach.
“Let me go,” I hiss, though the second I hear the crunch of grass telling me the group is turning down this row, Monty does the exact opposite. Instead, he tugs me closer, sets a hand behind my head, and presses his lips to mine.
I’m so surprised that I don’t react at first. But when he licks against my lips, seeking entry, I can’t help but kiss him back.
I’d forgotten how good he is at this, how he knows exactly when to slant his lips against mine.
How he tastes—a little like that smoky bonfire smell—and how he feels as he moves against me.
The experience is all-encompassing as his lips melt into mine, and his hard chest and tight grip mold me to his upper body.
But it’s when a raw grumble works up his chest—vibrating between us in a way that makes my stomach dip and swoop—that I almost come undone.
The sound of footsteps and voices retreats down another row but Monty doesn’t stop kissing me.
Maybe he likes this as much as me. Maybe he wants—
“They’re gone,” he murmurs against my lips.