“You know, I’m beginning to think you’re stalking me.”
I whipped around, my eyes wide in surprise. What were the odds? I rolled my eyes and clucked my tongue. “Don’t you wish, Matthew Wright?”
He was grinning crookedly at me, an almost-full basket of apples in his hand.
“You know, if you’d just text me your agenda each day, we could just carpool to all these places instead of running into each other. Save gas.” He shrugged.
I laughed loudly. Matthew Wright was something else. “Is that your way of asking for my telephone number? You could’ve just asked,” I said with a cocky smirk.
Matt walked closer and sat his basket on the ground nearby. “Would you have given it to me?” he asked, his voice low and serious.
I inhaled sharply, realizing the error of my ways. I didn’t want to lead him on. He was an amazing guy. I frowned.
“Hey, looks like you’ve still got some pickin’ to do.” He picked my basket up off of the ground to carry it along with his.
I blew out a breath of relief. He’d changed the subject, and I was grateful. I reached up on my tippy toes to get an apple just out of reach.
Matt came up behind me and reached out next to me, his arm skimming mine, his body heat enveloping me. He reached the apple easily, plucked it off the tree, and held it out to me.
I was surprised to learn that we went together very, very well.