Jake glances back to Tori, releasing me from the prison of his strange eyes. I take a slow, deep breath to settle my swimming head.
“Oh, I’ve gotta hear this,” he says, leaning back against the tailgate and crossing his arms over his chest. I can’t help but notice how his biceps bulge with the action.
Tori steps closer to him and whispers, “We were sort of hoping you’d sell us a bottle of that peach wine. You know, on the down low.”
He looks from Tori to me and back again before he bends to pick up one bottle. “One of these? To loosen her up?”
“Yep. It’s sure to do the trick.”
His golden eyes return to me as he slowly straightens to his full height. “I don’t believe you. I don’t think she’ll drink it.” His gaze drops to my mouth and then on down my neck and chest, to my stomach and my bare legs. I wonder what he’s seeing—just the light green strapless sundress that sets off my tan? Or is he imagining what’s underneath? What’s underneath my clothes? Underneath my skin? “I think she looks like a good girl. And good girls don’t drink.”
The fact that he so accurately pegged me stirs up my temper for some reason. Immediately defensive, I pull in my stomach, puff out my chest, and jack up my chin. “What? I’m just some simple, one-dimensional country girl? Is that it?”
He shrugs, his eyes never leaving mine. “Am I wrong?”
“Yes,” I declare defiantly, even though it’s an outright lie. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
One raven brow shoots up in challenge. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
Too proud to back down, I reach out and snatch the bottle from his fingers, unscrew the lid and tip it back, taking one long gulp.
It’s just local, homemade wine from his daddy’s peach orchard, but that doesn’t mean the alcohol doesn’t sting the throat of someone who’s not used to drinking.
As I lower the bottle and swallow what’s left in my mouth, my eyes water with the effort not to sputter. Jake watches me until my cheeks are no longer full of the wine.
“Satisfied?” I ask, shoving the bottle into the center of his broad chest.
“I’ll be damned,” he says softly.
Ignoring the way his voice makes my stomach clench, I reach for Tori’s hand. “Come on. We have to get back for our shift in the booth.”
Tossing my hair, I turn and stomp off with as much dignity as I can muster. Tori is reluctant, but when I tug, she follows along.
“What the hell are you doing? You just totally screwed that up for me. Not to mention that you left the wine.”
“We don’t need that jerk’s wine.”
“Uh, yeah, we do. And what’s this about the shift at the booth? We aren’t supposed to be there for another forty minutes.”
“Then we’ll go early. It’s just a kissing booth, for Pete’s sake. It won’t kill you to work another forty minutes. In fact, you’ll probably like it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asks indignantly.
I pause in my mad trudging to look at her. I shake my head to clear it. I don’t know how that Jake guy managed to get under my skin so quickly, but he did.
“Sorry, Tori. I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just aggravated.”
“I can see that. But why? What did he ever do to you?”
“I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. I just hate it when people assume the worst about me.”
“Assuming you’re a good girl is not a bad thing.”
“He sure made it seem like it was.” I start walking again and look back at Tori until she catches up. “Besides, weren’t you just fussing at me for not living a little?”
“Yes, but this is not really what I had in mind.”
I smile and loop my arm through hers, hoping for a quick reconciliation so we can leave the topic of Jake behind. “Be careful what you ask for then, right?”
She sighs. “I guess.”
“Now then, let’s go.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m regretting my rash decision. I’ve kissed the cheek of every pimple-faced boy in town. Tori has jumped in front of me to take all the cute guys that have come. Not that I have a problem with that. I guess I owe her since I messed up her plans for Jake. Besides, I’m not interested in any of the boys from Greenfield. The only reason I’m working the booth at all is to raise funds for the church.
I smile politely as I take two dollars from the next boy in line. He looks like he can’t be a day over twelve. I bend forward to give his cheek a peck. I press my lips to it and then offer mine. He kisses it sweetly then looks shyly away. “Thank you for the kiss,” I say for the hundredth time. I look down as I put the money in my till. When I glance up, prepared to ask for the next person in line, my heart stops and the words die on my tongue.
Standing in front of me, smiling like he knows I can’t breathe, is Jake Theopolis. He’s wearing a T-shirt now, a blue one that fits snugly over his wide shoulders. His pecs shift beneath the material as he digs in the front pocket of his jeans. I see him toss a ten dollar bill onto the counter in front of me. Confused, my eyes flicker back up to his. The bright, liquid orbs are intent on mine.
“I came for the peaches,” he says quietly. He reaches up to take the toothpick from between his lips. I watch, spellbound, as his face gets closer and closer. “I need a taste before I go,” he whispers, his sweet cinnamon breath fanning my lips.
And then his mouth is brushing mine. I don’t even think to resist. In fact, I don’t think at all. I only feel.
His lips are soft against mine and he smells like soap and clean sweat. His touch is featherlight until he tilts his head to the side and deepens the kiss. I feel his tongue trace the crease of my lips until I part them to let him in. In long, leisurely strokes, his tongue licks at mine, like he’s savoring the flavor of it. I savor him right back, drinking in the hint of cinnamon in his mouth. I lean toward him, bracing myself on the counter, afraid my legs won’t hold me up much longer.
Finally, he leans back and looks down into my stunned face. “Mmm, that’s the sweetest peach I’ve had in a long time,” he purrs. When he winks at me, I feel a gush of heat pour into my stomach like hot lava.
Without another word, he turns and walks away.