Promises Under the Peach Tree Read online

  “But at least you say what you’re thinking.” He gave her a slow smile. “I always know where I stand with you, Nina. No guesswork there.”

  Actually, he might be surprised to discover how much she’d been thinking about him since she’d returned home. She didn’t say anything, though, sensing he had more on his mind.

  “I never knew with Jenny.” His expression became serious and Nina braced herself, not sure she was ready to hear more about his marriage. His jaw flexed, as if he were weighing words before he continued. “So it surprised the hell out of me when—right before she left—she accused me of never getting over you.”

  His words stunned her. They rang through her with a dull hum.

  “That’s—that’s ridiculous,” she said finally, her mouth too dry for words. “Did you tell her we hadn’t even spoken since that summer?”

  When she’d begged him to come to New York and start a new life with her. When she’d given him ultimatums and he’d gone more and more silent with every phone call until there was no reason to call again.

  “She was out the door before I thought of a comeback. And considering it took me that long to form a response, I had to wonder if she had a point.”

  It was as if she was listening to someone speak to her through water. She could hear what he was saying, but she felt far away. Like all of this was unreal.

  “You can’t be serious.” She didn’t want to think about what it meant if he still had feelings for her. She’d gotten use to hers—the healed over hurt that left a long scar. But if he still cared about her... “I thought we were going to try to be friends.”

  “Is that even possible, Nina, when the air damn near crackles every time I get near you?” He stared at her in the moonlight, searching for answers. His shoulder pressed into the swing chain, the sleeve of his polo shirt riding up high enough to reveal some ink from a tattoo that hadn’t been there before.

  Maybe she chose now to notice the tattoo because meeting his gaze meant she had to be honest with him. She swallowed hard.

  “I don’t know.” Her voice was rough in her throat.

  He reached toward her and her heartbeat went wild. His hand wrapped around the chain over her head and he dragged her closer. Closer. Her knees brushed his. Her thigh bumped his hip and the warmth of his body next to hers teased over her senses.

  “Does this feel like friendship to you?” He tucked his hands behind her knees and swiveled her to face him. He palmed her calves through her jeans, pinning her knees to his.

  They stared at each other for a long, breathless moment, suspended beside one another and close enough to share each breath. Old emotions rose up inside her like living things, combining with new ones she hadn’t expected. She breathed deeper to take in the scent of his aftershave—bay rum and spices.

  Her mouth went dry as chalk and she couldn’t answer. She shook her head. Licked her lips to try and speak...

  But Mack was already leaning closer, his head tilting. She closed her eyes at the last second, savoring the press of his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and sure against hers, the pressure light but definite, just enough to warn her of his intent before he took more.

  Her skin tingled everywhere, hyperaware of him. This was Mack, the man who’d inspired her teenage fantasies—and some adult ones, if she was honest—the one who’d shown her everything from how to kiss to...so much more. Her hands found his cheeks and smoothed over the rough texture of his five o’clock shadow, cradling his face as he took a deeper taste.

  The stroke of his tongue along hers just about undid her, the slick, subtle pressure unleashing a tide of feelings she’d kept locked up tight for a long, long time. She closed her eyes tighter, trying to hold herself back even as she wanted the kiss to go on and on.

  “Mack.” She broke contact by some minor miracle, though she didn’t pull away. “This is crazy.”

  He was slow to open his eyes, a fact that soothed some old wounds just a little bit. With an effort, she let go of his face, her fingers gliding down his cheek to the straight edge of his jaw and then...back into her lap.

  “Agreed.” His voice was for-her-ears-only soft, but the scratchy note in it told her he struggled for control as much as she did. “But it’s not going away. And we’re sure as hell not going to fix it by some lame attempt at friendship when all this heat blazes beneath the surface.”

  Her thoughts swam fuzzily after the kiss, so she didn’t understand what he was saying. With a cool breeze rippling across her sheer blouse, she could only think about how good it would feel to close the distance between them again. To have Mack’s hands tucked beneath her knees to keep her anchored to him on the swings.

  “So what should we do about it?” She hadn’t touched a sip of alcohol tonight but she suspected she might sway on her feet when she stood.

  “I’m not sure. But we could talk about it. Maybe have dinner and hash it out.”

  “Dinner?”

  The dimple in his left cheek made an appearance, his hands sliding down the swing chains until he gripped the seat on either side of her. Behind them, a couple of teens raced past, chasing each other and laughing.

  “Not now. Tomorrow, maybe, if you’re free.”

  “You’re asking me to share a meal with you.” She went over the details, making sure she understood.

  “Yes. We did a damned good job at breaking each other’s hearts once. We both know there can’t be anything long-term between us. But we’re both here now, and the attraction is so strong I can’t get you off my mind.”

  She gasped. “You don’t mean—?”

  “I mean we’re adults now. If we want to spend time together, we don’t have to sneak off into the orchard anymore. We can enjoy each other without getting all wound up about some big commitment neither of us wants.” He made it sound so simple when it was anything but.

  Her eyes slid over him, his square shoulders and thick, masculine chest. His long arms flexing with lean muscle as he held her swing still. Denim-clad legs that stretched between them, his feet anchoring them in the sand to keep them both from spinning.

  Any woman would be thrilled to go on a date with this man. He was handsome. Considerate. And he kissed like a sexy fantasy come to life. Too bad she wasn’t the kind of woman who could just enjoy that aspect of a relationship and not want more. She knew what they could have together. Toe-curling kisses were never going to be enough.

  “Mack, I’m not going to lie. I’m so spun up from that kiss I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight.” Her heart raced harder than after her most challenging workout. It would take her hours just to cool down after this. “But I just barely held myself together the last time my heart was broken. Between you and me, I’m not strong enough to do that again.”

  She waited a moment, but when he didn’t say anything, she twisted sideways to stand.

  “Caring about people is always a risk, Nina. No one can guarantee there won’t be fallout if you take a chance.” He got to his feet slowly, jamming his hands in his pockets.

  “I know.” She also understood that it had cost him to ask her out after the way they’d split. If only there wasn’t so much painful baggage they couldn’t ignore. “But it’s one thing to take that risk with someone new. With you, the potential for hurt is about ten times higher.”

  He nodded, his jaw flexing. “Keeping that math in mind, did it ever occur to you what the potential payoff might be if things actually worked out, even just in the short-term?”

  She let that one roll over her, that tiny slice of incredible possibility calling to her as fiercely as his kiss.

  “You don’t have to answer yet. Just think on it. For now, let me walk you to the truck.” He put a hand on her waist, the briefest of touches, to lead her in the right direction. “I saw that you’re parked over here.”

 
; Her legs felt wooden as they made their way across the playground and to the street. She hadn’t locked the truck, so he held the door for her while she stepped inside.

  “Where’s your Gram?” He pivoted back toward the town square. “Didn’t she ride with you?”

  Nina nodded. “Ethan Brady’s grandfather is driving her.”

  “Harlan is a good guy.” Mack kept his arm on her door, his body still close enough to touch.

  She hadn’t even gotten her keys out of her purse yet. God, she was a mess. All because of Mack Finley and his crazy, unexpected, makes-no-sense suggestion they go out on a date. He knew that was a terrible idea, damn it. Why had he put it out there?

  “Nina?” He put a hand on her forearm, a simple touch that reminded her of all the things she’d just said “no” to. “You okay to drive?”

  A long sigh hissed from her lips. She had tried to do what was right. To make the smart decision. But Mack was thwarting her at every turn with touches and crazy suggestions that a relationship between them was still a possibility. But they wanted very different things in life and her heart ached just remembering how much he’d hurt her last time. And yet still the attraction between them frazzled her to distraction. Frustrated and unable to hold back another second, she twisted in her seat, looped her arms around his neck and planted the kind of kiss on his gorgeous lips he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

  When she eased back, it was Mack who wore the swaying-on-his-feet expression, his eyes unfocused for a long moment.

  “I’m feeling better already.” She nodded, her blood running hot in her veins, but she felt more in control now. More like her old, take-charge self. “I’ll think about what you said.”

  “About dinner?”

  “About taking risks.” Maybe that kiss was all she needed. Just to get the urge out of her system.

  Or just to know she wasn’t the only one affected by the chemistry in the air.

  “That’s...good.” He smiled and made a point of rubbing a finger over his lower lip where she’d just kissed him. “I think I like your risky side.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t.” She shook her head, flustered again and needing to retreat more than ever. “I’ve spent a long time trying to rein it in to be more efficient in business and more discerning in my love life.” Too bad Mack had a close and personal relationship with her adventurous side. He seemed to bring it out in her without even trying.

  “Don’t tell me you’re turning practical on me.” He grinned as she revved the engine on the pickup and put it in Reverse.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.” She would go home, bake some cupcakes and wise up before she did anything stupid, like actually get involved with a man who never wanted a family. “You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  ALLY FINLEY WAS sweeping up hair from the floor of The Strand Salon when she heard the words that stopped her cold.

  “I have a date with Ethan Brady tonight,” chirped a feminine voice somewhere behind her, the overhead fan wafting the scent of hair chemicals and shampoo around her.

  They were her words. The ones Ally had been wanting to say ever since Ethan moved into town. But they were coming from another girl’s mouth. That wasn’t totally surprising, she thought as she stared at a growing collection of auburn baby curls from a previous haircut. Ethan had always been popular with the girls at school.

  Except that he’d totally flirted with Ally in the peach orchard just the weekend before. He was even considering leaving town with her after Harvest Fest, and they’d talked about meeting last night at Lucky’s. Only he’d been laughing and dancing with another girl.

  Risking a glance up from her sweeping, Ally spotted Rachel Wagoner in one of the chairs near the door. Her pink designer purse was perched on the table in front of the mirror. Sleek blond hair fell in a perfect sheet around her shoulders. Rachel was in Ally’s grade and she already had her pick of boy admirers. Why did she have to go after Ethan? Was it Rachel’s mission in life to collect every guy’s heart in Williamson County?

  “How exciting!” Lisa, the newest stylist, squealed, mixing up a chemical in a plastic dish with a miniature paintbrush. “I saw you two together behind Lucky’s last night.”

  So had Ally. But she’d tried telling herself that Ethan was just being nice. Keeping the broom moving, she swiped the bristles underneath one of the other stylist’s station, her arms itching with the need to scratch her skin. She hadn’t touched her scarred forearms in almost two weeks, but the pain inside her chest was burning so strong that scratching would be the only thing that would release it. At least then, the pain would be outside.

  “Excuse me,” she mumbled to no one in particular. She propped the broom in the corner, leaning the handle against a framed cosmetology license for the salon’s owner. “Be right back.”

  “You okay, hon?” one of the older stylists, Trish, asked as Ally hurried toward the staff bathroom. Trish had big, overdone curls that must have been popular a long time ago and wore cat-eye make up every single day, but she was sweet and Ally liked her.

  “Fine.” She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t turn that way. “Just a cramp, I think.” She clutched her stomach, hoping that would buy her some time in the bathroom.

  “There’s some Midol over the sink,” Trish called after her. “A big, industrial-size container. We consider that a business expense here, you know.” The woman in Trish’s chair laughed with her, their voices fading as Ally pushed open the door marked Employees Only and stalked through the empty break room past the washer and dryer.

  Ethan was going out with Rachel.

  The hurt stabbed her so hard that a sob escaped her throat as she flung open the private bathroom door and locked it behind her. She needed to talk to Gram. Her grandmother was smart about stuff like this. She would know what to do.

  Ally was so rattled she pressed the wrong digits three times before inputting the correct speed dial key on her cell phone.

  Please pick up. Please pick up.

  It hurt that Gram hadn’t invited her over lately, but surely she would see Ally’s call coming through and answer her phone? Emotions clogged Ally’s throat, the hurt in her chest spreading with every unanswered ring. Right until Gram’s voice message came on. “Sorry I can’t take your call right now...”

  Frustration boiled over and a cry bubbled up her throat as she shoved her phone back in her purse. That sob unleashed more sobs. And more. So many that Ally couldn’t keep them quiet. They raked up her chest in wrenching heaves, leaving a trail of fire inside her.

  How could this happen? She’d worked so hard to get good grades, to be a good student, a good daughter and granddaughter, a good freaking everything. What for? No one noticed or cared. She’d busted her ass in high school only to have her parents’ marriage turn to shit, her house become a war zone, her weekend nights spent rattling through the cold silences of the living room or else locked in her bedroom with the stereo cranked so she didn’t have to hear them fighting.

  Through it all, she at least had the thought of Ethan. He’d been a friend if not a boyfriend. Now, she didn’t even have that. Because a “friend” wouldn’t flirt with her and then ask out another girl.

  Especially not Rachel Freaking Wagoner, who bought her blond by the half gallon and whose parents gave her a Lexus before she’d even graduated.

  “Ally?” The sound of her name penetrated the raw sobs as they echoed around the gray tile.

  Ally tried to stop long enough to listen.

  “Is everything all right, hon?” Trish’s voice came through the door. “Want me to call your mom to give you a ride home?”

  A ride home?

  Had she been in the bathroom that long? Or had the sound of her crying slipped out into the break room?

  Ally turne
d on a water faucet to mask any noise she was making.

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks.” The last thing she needed was her mother showing up here. Her mother who was too perfect to ever say she was stressed. Who took so much pride in her ability to do it all that she expected everyone else to be able to do the same.

  “Can I come in, honey?” Trish asked. “You sound awfully sad.”

  The worry in Trish’s voice became more obvious. For that matter, Ally was pretty sure she heard other voices in the background, too. Were they all talking about her? About how she was a total loser hiding out in the bathroom while the one person she cared about slipped away for good?

  She dug her nails into her forearms. Except this time, they were sticky. Like she’d stuck her arms in a vat of thick hair chemicals. What the hell?

  Looking down, she saw bright red covered both arms.

  Blood.

  She was bleeding—hard—from the scratches she’d already made on her arms. Scratches she’d never be able to hide under her friendship bracelets. There were even a few drops on the floor.

  Nausea gripped her stomach. This was bad. Really, really bad. She’d lost more than Ethan. She’d lost control.

  “Ally, I’m going to unlock the door, okay?” Trish’s voice came again.

  It was only a matter of time before her coworkers in the salon found out what a colossal loser she was. Soon, her mother would know, too. But right now, the sadness leaking out of her in blood and tears, Ally felt more relief than shame. At least now she wouldn’t have to worry about being good.

  * * *

  THE FINLEY NAME cast a big shadow in this town. Literally.

  Nina arrived at Finley Building Supply shortly before noon with a basket of cupcakes and parked under the cooling shelter of the sign overhead bearing the family name. Tough not to think about Mack when she saw reminders of him everywhere. His father had opened this store as a young man and grew the business himself along with a construction company, handing it over to his oldest son when Scott and Bethany married. The structure had been expanded multiple times until the original storefront was now just office space for the big, warehouselike building that welcomed shoppers today.