The window squeaked as the professor scratched at a spot on the glass. “I’ll give you until Wednesday afternoon. That should give the two of you a chance to get it taken care of, assuming he’s here on Monday.”
Evie nodded, eyeing the doorway once more. “Okay, thanks. I’m going to go study out in the commons area.”
“Have a nice weekend,” he hollered over his shoulder.
“You too.” Though her own hope for a decent weekend had diminished once she’d realized she wouldn’t be seeing Calvin Knight. He hadn’t officially asked her out or anything, but he’d mentioned they should get together over the weekend. Guess that wasn’t going to happen now.
After slumping into a leather chair in the foyer, Evie pulled out her phone. Though she knew Kelly was probably busy in class, she tapped out a quick text to her, stifling the emotion that came along with it.
He didn’t show. Sucks.
Chapter Eleven
“Evie, come out here and get the peaches off the grass, will you? I’m about to mow.”
“Sure.” Evie dropped a pile of clean socks into her drawer, bumped it closed with her hip, and sighed. There was a distinct sadness coating her world today, and no matter what she did, Evie couldn’t get past it. She strode out of her bedroom, eyeing her stupid art project on the way out. Yesterday had sucked–the whole Calvin-not-showing thing. But there was more to her depression than that. Kelly, who’d insisted she go dancing at The Castle with her tonight, sent Evie a text this morning saying they were going to some stupid party instead. They–her and Tawny. She invited Evie to go along, but already she felt like a third wheel. The distance between her and Kelly was growing. No matter how Evie looked at it, she was losing her best friend.
The stark brightness of the sun caused her to squint as she stepped onto the back patio. She felt out of place in the sunlight, like a lone spot of blackness that just didn’t belong. Once her eyes adjusted, she saw Dad in the corner of the yard. He was hunched over the lawn mower, yanking the stubborn cord like his life depended on it.
Evie slunk onto the worn planks of the back porch and pulled on her shoes. Just as she cinched up her second lace, the mower sputtered to life, covering a grumbled curse from her father’s mouth. A swarm of guilt gnawed at her insides as he disappeared around the side of the house. She hadn’t realized how much bringing up the whole thing with Mom would affect him. Since they’d talked about it, he’d been ornery, distracted, and agitated. And to complicate matters, Evie had actually liked seeing his discomfort, though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why.
It wasn’t that she blamed him for any of it; she didn’t. Maybe she was just tired of feeling like the only broken soul around there. Chasing after that stupid paper while Dad gave her some superior look of disapproval–making her feel like some sort of lunatic. Although Evie hadn’t checked the obituaries the entire week, she’d mostly resisted to prove to her father she could, which made her resent him even more. And now she was stuck suffering the effects of her assignment–the aftermath of becoming her tormented self from years past. Reconnecting with those emotions had unleashed a plague, one that had thrived like a fatal virus, breeding doubts of her own value.
She trudged lazily down the steps, tired from the ongoing cycle of anger and angst, guilt and shame. At first, the overgrown blades of grass hid the fallen peaches, yet as she neared the foot of the tree, vibrant colors stood out among the lush green. Ruby patches graced the soft, yellow skins of the fruit.
Evie inhaled the early autumn scents of fresh-cut grass and sweet, juicy peaches as she gathered the ripened fruit into her arms. Scratchy fuzz from the peaches chafed the delicate skin along her wrists and neck as she piled them beneath her chin. Slow drops of juice trickled down the hollow of her throat. The sweet, fragrant syrup dripped along the insides of her arms, soaking through the front of her tee shirt as well. She’d definitely need a shower after this.
Balancing the piled fruit, Evie shuffled across the lawn toward the shed. She should have emptied the wicker basket before collecting the late-blooming peaches and taken it with her to the tree. With the heel of her shoe, she tipped the basket over, allowing a stack of newspapers to tumble out.
“Need a hand?”
Evie flinched, and a few of the peaches tumbled from her arms. She had to have been dreaming. There was no way she’d just heard the deep, masculine voice of Calvin Knight. Not then. And certainly not there–in her own backyard. Her gaze flashed from the basket to the distant figure standing at the open gate. “Calvin?”
He closed the gap between them with several long strides and hunched at her feet, wrapping his arms around the basket. “Here,” he said, holding it beneath her hands.
She was nearly too stunned to move.
Drop the peaches, Evie.
Her arms obeyed, and the fruit tumbled down her chest and into the basket. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” A slight dimple appeared on Calvin’s cheek as he smiled. He took a step back, setting the basket between them. “Your dad told me to come on back. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I’m glad to see you. What um…” She wasn’t sure how to phrase the question.
“What am I doing here?” A throaty laugh sounded from deep within him. “You and I have some unfinished business, don’t we?”
She looked at him blankly until it came to her. Oh, yeah. “The assignment?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry I wasn’t there, Evie. I had an interview with…” His dark eyes narrowed as his gaze brushed over her shirt, arms, and neck. “You’re covered in juice,”
Evie looked down at the spots on her shirt, the drips along her arms. “I know. Let me go rinse off real quick. I’ll be right back.”
Calvin reached out, wrapped a hand around her wrist, and gave her a playful grin. “Wait. I love peaches. Especially the juice. Aren’t you at least going to give me a taste?”
“What?”
Her eyes widened with barely contained shock as he brought her arm close to his lips. “May I?”
Her heart kicked into a flustered rhythm. “May you what?” The distant roar of the lawnmower told her that Dad was still in the front yard.
Calvin eyed a single drop at her wrist before looking back at her. “Have a taste.” The smile was gone now. Only the piercing depth of his gaze remained.
His lips parted, and she felt his warm breath on her flesh. Part of her actually wanted to tell him yes, but the simple word wouldn’t come. It couldn’t. What kind of girl was she anyway?
Yet without another pause, Calvin pressed his mouth to the inner part of her wrist in a gentle, lingering kiss.
Goose bumps rippled up her arm and over her body in a blissful wave of pleasure.
His tongue glided over his lips. “Mmm. Nice.”
Playfully, she tried to tug her arm away, but Calvin stopped her.
“Uh, uh, uh,” he said. “I’m not done. Vengas aquí, mi pequeño melocotón.”
“What?” She had no idea what he’d said, but the sheer sound of his hypnotic voice in the foreign tongue had her insides melting.
“I said, come here, my little peach.” His smoldering gaze alone–focused intently on one spot at her wrist–sent a tingling wave of anticipation to rush through her.
He licked his lips again. “I haven’t even taken a bite yet.”
She squealed as he brought his mouth to her arm once more. In a half-hearted attempt to pull away, she twisted her wrist, which seemed much smaller within his solid grasp.
Calvin only chuckled, securing her arm in place by cradling her elbow in one hand. After stepping a bit closer, he hovered his mouth over her wrist and parted his lips. His teeth sunk–ever so gently–into her flesh as he took a playful bite. The moist warmth of his mouth, combined with the thrilling graze of his teeth, spread chills over every inch of her flesh. “Mmm,” he groaned, loosening his grip. His hand slid up the inside of her arm, tracing the slender curve before filling the small spa
ce between them. His heated gaze ran slowly along her neck, as if thirsty for more.
Evie stood stunned, captured by sensations she could hardly define. Her face flushed with warmth as she managed an audible gulp.
He leaned closer, teasing the slope of her shoulder with his lingering stare. Just as she began wondering if he might go even further–pondering on whether or not she’d let him–Calvin cleared his throat and took a step back.
Evie released a pent-up breath, an unfamiliar hunger flaring within her. “I’ll go rinse off.” She stepped past the barrel awkwardly, walked in a daze toward the patio. What kind of game was he playing? Whatever it was, he wasn’t playing fair. Calvin Knight was dangerous.
She made it halfway up the back steps before turning back to him. “You mind waiting a minute? You can come in if you’d like.”
He remained quiet.
“Or stay out here. Either way.”
He eyed the back patio. “Another porch swing?”
A nervous smile spread over her lips. “Yeah. From this one, we can watch the sun rise.”
“Sounds nice.” Calvin strode across the porch, set his gaze on her, and lowered himself into the seat. “I’ll wait out here.”
***
Calvin smiled to himself as he watched Evie slip into the house. She was way too tempting. And so fun to tease. It didn’t take much to get her flustered, and he liked that. He liked her.
The swing let out a creak as he sunk deeper into it, thoughts of Evie filling his mind. He’d never seen her dressed so casually–a loose-fitting pair of cut-offs and a tee shirt. He liked how the oversized shirt hung loosely on her small frame. And those stray strands of golden hair–the way they’d torn free from the rest–framing her lovely face.
Though he’d only set out to tease her by nibbling on her arm, Calvin had been shocked at how badly he’d wanted to do more. To taste the diamond-shaped indentation at the base of her throat, or trace his lips along the delicate slope beneath her ear lobe. Things he had no right to even think about–let alone act on.
He would need to move slowly with Evie. He could tell, by everything about her–her dress, her mannerisms, the way she held herself–that she’d expect no less, and he liked that too. In mere moments, Calvin would take a look at her artwork. He was anxious to see what had inspired her project. Whatever it was, it had helped shape the person she was today, for better or worse. Hopefully, she’d feel comfortable enough to open up about it.
***
Each beat of Evie’s heart felt heightened, extended almost. It seemed as if it had leapt onto the neglected trampoline out back, and each leap was a flight into the fresh, sun-filled sky. Calvin Knight was there!
The water from the shower ran lukewarm as she stepped under it, shivering from the chill. She ran a fresh washcloth beneath the stream and doused it with a quick squirt of vanilla-scented body wash. Wiping at the peach juice along her arms and neck, Evie recalled the way Calvin had grazed his teeth along her flesh. She shook her head. Kelly had mentioned Calvin could be trouble. Her insightful friend had no idea how right she was.
The water had barely reached a decent temperature by the time she rinsed clean. After a quick pat down with the towel, she readjusted her ponytail and checked the time–under ten minutes. Good. The rough denim scratched her legs as Evie tugged on jeans. She pulled on a snug, white tee shirt, slipped into a pair of flip-flops, and glared at her sack-covered art. With a few slow-paced breaths, she summoned the courage to grab the canvas.
The stairwell looked different somehow as she trudged her way up, like a foreign pathway that would magically lead her to Calvin Knight. After stepping onto the side patio, Evie yanked off the bag that covered the canvas and tossed it into the trash.
“So how should we do this?” she asked, rounding the corner.
Looking beautifully out of place on the old porch swing, Calvin ran a hand through his hair, tossing the chestnut colored strands into reckless perfection. He met her gaze beneath a handsome set of dark brows. “Mine’s in the car. I can go grab it now, or we can start on yours if you want.”
Another slowly paced breath came and went. “May as well get mine over with, I guess.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the next. They’d sat beside one another on the bench out front just a few weeks ago, watching the sunset. So why was it so hard for her to take the spot next to him then? She eyed one of the lawn chairs across from the swing.
“Here, I won’t bite.” Calvin patted the spot next to him, flashing a devilish grin. “Again.”
How did he manage to look so entirely innocent and wonderfully guilty all at once? She shuffled her way toward him, holding the canvas to her chest, and lowered herself into the seat.
She glanced at him tentatively. “Okay, I have to tell you that, sharing this,” she rubbed her palm over the back of her neck, which felt hot and agitated, “it’s not an easy thing for me. I mean, I’m really nervous about it.”
He smiled at her. “Don’t be. It’s just me.”
Just him? He’d said that before, only the words just and him–as in Calvin Knight–didn’t belong in the same sentence. She lifted her chin to pull the board away from her chest.
“Here. We can prop it on this.” Calvin pulled a lawn chair over and propped the piece on the back of the seat. “Whoa, this is really nice, Evie.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “There’s a lot of emotion in this,” he said.
She eyed the painting too, dying to know what he really thought of it.
“You’ve used acrylic paint. What I notice first is this birthday cake.” He paused, running a loose hand over the canvas while he mumbled. “Seven, eight, nine lit candles. Should be a happy occasion, but that’s not the tone of the piece. Because what stands out even more than the cake, at the other end of this long table, is an empty chair. Someone’s missing.” He glanced at her, a hint of sadness in his brown eyes. “I like the grey wash you put over the image. It really creates a contrasting tone to the bright candles and the leaves and flowers on the cake.”
When Evie noticed her hand was shaking, she grabbed her thumb ring and began spinning it, wondering if Calvin would see the last detail–the one that had taken hours to get right.
“There’s something reflected here, on this glass,” he said.
Her shoulders stiffened as Calvin leaned toward the canvas, appraising the art.
“It’s the girl sitting up to the cake–I can see her reflection through the cup. Only, I just see the outline of her.” Leaning closer still, he continued, “I see hints of hair in pig-tails, the shape of her shoulders and arms, but I can also see this, uh … it’s a china cabinet behind her. Through her.”
The tense pressure gripping Evie’s shoulders eased a notch. She pulled her lip between her teeth, keeping quiet as he looked over it some more.
“You did an amazing job on this piece. I’m not even sure I could’ve mastered that reflection the way you did.”
She grimaced. “I’m sure you could have done way better, of course.”
He glanced at her. “Are you going to tell me about your inspiration?” There was an unassuming look about him–as if he didn’t know whether she’d say yes.
“The theme for the piece is Empty. But like you noticed, it goes beyond the obvious empty seat at the end of the table. Because even though she’s there–the girl behind the cake–she feels as empty as the chair across the way.”
Evie leaned back into the seat and folded her legs beneath her, mentally putting her emotions in check. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front of him. Already, she could feel the color in her face, the burning heat in her eyes.
Calvin hunched deeper into the seat, lifting his foot and resting it on the opposite knee. The tender urging in his eyes encouraged her, gave her confidence to continue. He wanted to know more.
“My inspiration for this piece was … well, you know how I told you that my mother wasn’t a part of my life?”
&nb
sp; He nodded, and she could barely believe she was about to go to this place with him.
“Well, she used to be–a long time ago–but she left one day. She said she’d come back in time for my ninth birthday, only she never did come home.” Evie spun the ring on her thumb once again as she considered how much more to tell him. “My dad was all worried about her at first, thinking something must’ve happened to her, but then he found out that she was fine, that she was just staying away by choice.”
Calvin cleared his throat. “How did he know that? Did she call?”
“She sent a letter, actually. To her own mother, who then told my dad. But it wasn’t until a few days after my birthday, after my dad put out a missing person’s report, you know? It’s weird, though, because before my grandma even told us,” Evie risked a glance at him, “I just … sort of knew she wasn’t coming back.”
“That is strange. Did that make it better or worse? Knowing.”
She gave that some thought, surprised by the certain ease that came over her as she opened up to him. “I guess both. Better because I could sort of start mourning right away. Since I was so sure she wasn’t coming back, I dealt with it. And it was worse for the same reason–because there was no room for hope. Jessica, for as long as she lived at home, hoped that Mom would come back. I always wished she would, even on that birthday I wished for it. But I never really believed it would happen.”
“That’s got to be a lot different from having your mother die, like mine did. More complicated.” The warm brown of his eyes held her gaze, reaching an inner part of her, filling her with a deep longing for more. “But we do have that in common, don’t we–that we’ve spent half our lives without a mother.”
Evie nodded, melting in the magnetic connection. “We do.” The words came out quieter than she meant them to.
The light above changed from yellow to grey in a sudden shift as a cluster of thick clouds floated across the sky, covering the sun. A breeze picked up just as the sound of the lawn mower grew louder. “My dad’s coming around this way. Should we go in the house to do yours?”
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