Page 31

“Plums,” August announced with a smirk in his voice. He waved a hand at the orchard. “Breakfast. Have at it.”

“Jesus!” For a moment, I just admired it. And then I broke into a run. It wasn’t like I’d never had fruit before. Most communities had carefully tended greenhouses. But the minuscule amounts produced made it expensive. Only the rich could afford to have anything more than the occasional piece. And I’d never seen as much fruit in one place as there was here. And it was free.

It was thrilling enough as I rushed around and collected quite the bounty to forget about the awkwardness between me and August. It came rushing back when he took a seat directly opposite, both of us leaning against a tree trunk. I concentrated on the pile of fruit between my legs, not looking at him when he was directly in my eyeline taking work.

“How long are you going to be like this?” he asked between bites of an apple.

I wiped pear juice off my chin and studied the shape of a leaf above his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He laughed as if I’d said something funny. “Right.” He retracted his legs, the bend of his knee making a handy resting place for the hand not holding the apple. “It was just a hand job, Keaton. There’s no need to tie yourself in knots about it. It’s by no means the worst thing I’ve ever done.”

“Glad to hear it.” I sounded like a prude. I forced myself to look at him, the amusement on August’s face not helping. “It’s not that. Not just that, anyway.”

August frowned. “Oh?”

“It’s the whole thing. The way I acted. I remember… most of it.”

“Most?”

I took another bite of pear, the taste like nectar. Far better than smoky water for whetting thirst. “I remember saying some stuff to you, and I know it was awful. I just can’t recall what the actual words were.”

“Ah!” August leaned his head back against the tree, his amusement growing. “And that bothers you, does it?”

“Yes.” I finished the pear and started on an apple. I was saving the plums until last. “I can’t take ownership of what I did when I don’t even know how bad it was.”

“Bad is relative,” August commented. “Do I look like I’m bearing a grudge?”

“No.” He licked his fingers to get the juice off, another memory from the previous night returning. If I weren’t worried about you biting, I’d make you lick it off. I fought against the rush of heat and the stirring in my groin. “I’d prefer to know.”

August rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He took another bite of the apple while he contemplated it. “It was mainly name-calling.”

“Such as?”

“Liar. I guess I can’t argue with that one because of the whole name thing. Thief. Also difficult to contest given I tried to steal your ring. Prick tease.” He smiled, seeming to find something particularly funny about that one. “I guess there was the whole dance thing, so…” He dug a little hole in the ground and placed the apple core in it. “Another tree,” he explained when I frowned.

“What else?”

“Whore. Which at the time was a little unfair, given I hadn’t yet struck a deal for a hand job. But maybe you were just being forward-thinking. Although…” He held up a finger. “You said dirty whore, and I would argue that I’m no dirtier than the next man.” He winked. “Unless it’s a special request.”

I grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” He thought for a moment as he took a bite of the plum. “What else?”

My heart sank. “There was more?”

“Oh, yeah. But most were ridiculous.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Inbred. Not true. My mother and father weren’t related. I know that for a fact. Narcissist. I was just impressed you knew the word. Same as when you called me a sanctimonious twat. The sanctimonious bit obviously, not the twat part. I think that was about it.”

“I’m―”

“Don’t say you’re sorry again. You already said that.”

“I am, though. I’m not just saying it.”

“You weren’t in your right mind. The rain is a cruel mistress. Call me inbred now, and we might have a problem. Last night, you were just letting off some steam.” He flashed a smile. “Eat your plums.”

I did, all the while mulling over how difficult August could be to predict. If there was anyone who should have given me a hard time for throwing out insults, it was him. There was nothing in our relationship so far that should have earned me such easy forgiveness. Yet, there it was, and I should be grateful for it.

Once I’d finished my plum, I took a leaf out of August’s book and buried it. “Plum tree,” I said when he smirked.