I huff a strained chuckle.
Only for her.
Only with the pure desperation I have from needing her.
With a nip to her earlobe, I utter, “You do that to me.”
She shifts on my lap, turning back until she is facing me but sitting sideways in my lap. Draping her arms around my neck, she drops her forehead to meet mine. “Say that again.”
“You do that to me, Evie.”
She smiles. “I like that.”
Yeah, baby girl. Me too.
Cupping her jaw with rough hands, I draw her mouth in, crashing her lips against mine in an open kiss. A sailor drowning for a taste of his siren.
Who am I kidding? I’m done for with this woman.
I have no idea how I’m going to say goodbye to her.
Twenty-Six
EVIE
Plump, ripe red tomatoes stare up at me from the bushy plant. The warm spring air sends the distinct tang of plant life through the greenhouse. Pride ripples through me, and I bite on my bottom lip to tamp down the squeal of delight wanting out. I jump—just a little—on the spot.I did it!
I really grew the season’s worth of tomatoes.
I pluck the fattest one I can find and bite into its crimson flesh. Tomato juice spills past my lips, running down my chin.
Oh. My. God.
It’s incredible.
I tug another from the bush and sprint into the house. Callum sits on the sofa, radio in his hands, jotting down something in a notebook that looks like a record of some sort.
Coming to a halt in front of him, I all but wriggle out of my skin waiting for him to look up at me. Never before have I felt as much like a child waiting for a parent’s attention as I do now.
I let a little squeak slip, and his blue eyes glance up at me.
His face breaks with a chuckle as he slides the book to the sofa with the radio, and I drop into his lap.
“Close your eyes,” I breathe.
“Okay . . . why?”
“Just do it.”
I give him my best stern look. He shakes his head but closes his eyes as instructed. “What you got there, Evie baby?”
“Open your mouth.”
One eyebrow raises, but he opens up.
I shove the tomato in his mouth like a pig with an apple stuffed in its snout. Cal’s eyes fly open as he tries to talk around the large tomato. He looks ridiculous. I crack up, my hands palming his jaw as he tries to bite down. His face pulls in all directions. I slap a hand to my mouth, laughter spilling from me in hysterical waves.
He finally bites the fruit in two, and one half falls to his lap. “Mmmm.” He chews, swallowing before he picks up the last half. “Your turn, baby girl.”
