Free Hungry Heart: Konigsburg, Texas, Book 8 by Meg Benjamin Page B

She shook her head. “Sorry.”
    “Nothing to be sorry for. They live over on the west side of town. And yeah, they do all live pretty close together except for my brother Ed, who lives on his peach orchard over toward Stonewall.”
    She smiled, raising her face to the moonlight. “Fresh peaches. Nice family connection to have.”
    “Yeah, especially at this time of year. I’ll take you out to his farm stand sometime.” He said it easily, almost without thinking. And then almost stumbled on the sidewalk.
    I’ll take you out to his farm stand sometime? Making some big assumptions there, aren’t you, vato ?
    Ahead of them a boy chased a soccer ball down his front yard, then stood holding it as he watched them walk by. Chico glanced his way and frowned. The boy turned and ran back toward his front porch.
    Andy’s jaw tightened a bit, but then she relaxed again. She did move a little closer as they dodged around a pecan tree that leaned out of a yard close by.
    Somewhere music was playing, maybe somebody’s radio in the backyard, the melody soft and lilting, the words too faint to be recognized. Chico felt almost like dancing for a moment, and then like catching his breath.
    He didn’t dance. He never danced. Dancing, he looked like an elephant on roller skates.
    Andy glanced up at him, smiling. “Do you recognize it?”
    “The song?” He shook his head.
    “‘The Tennessee Waltz’. My grandma had the record—Patti Page, the Singing Rage.”
    “Oh. Yeah.” He blinked. He was a talent booker, for Christ’s sake. He should be able to recognize a song that had been covered by everybody from Otis Redding to Leonard Cohen. Once again, he felt that odd impulse to take Andy Wells in his arms and spin her around the front yard. He quickly kicked it away.
    “We’re here,” she said.
    He looked up. His truck was parked at the curb. Her porch light gleamed in the darkness. A couple dozen steps, and she’d be home. He pushed the front gate open, then followed her through.
    Okay, you’ve got this. No problem. Except, of course, that he didn’t. He hadn’t felt this awkward since middle school.
    She turned on the top step, looking down at him, or as down as she could look when they were basically nose to nose. “This is where I say I had a great time and thank you. Which is true. I did have a great time. And I do thank you. But it still sounds sort of weird to me.”
    He frowned. “Why weird?”
    She gave him a slightly rueful smile. “Because it’s such a routine thing to say. I feel like I should come up with something better.”
    He shook his head. “I’ll take it.” His right hand moved to the back of her neck, almost without his thinking about it, and he drew her lips down to his.
    Random thoughts drifted through his mind. She was so soft, so warm. How long had it been since he’d touched a woman like this? Kissed a woman when it wasn’t just a prelude to something else, when kissing was the main event?
    He moved his hand up to the back of her head, let his fingers slide into her hair, trace the shape of her skull. He changed the angle of the kiss, brought his tongue to her mouth and tasted her.
    Honey. Sweetness. A hint of fragrance. Gracious Lord above.
    His arm went around her waist, pulling their bodies tighter, soft breasts against his chest. She gave a soft hum deep in her throat.
    Okay. Time to stop.
    He lifted his head slowly, pausing to rest his forehead against hers until he caught his breath. Oh yes, Gracious Lord above.
    “I want to see you again,” he murmured.
    She nodded, her forehead pressed against his collarbone. “Yes. Me too.”
    “There’s a band in the beer garden Sunday night. Come sit with me.”
    “I can do that.”
    “Okay, then.” He raised his head slowly, reluctantly, then dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Andy.”
    “Good night,” she whispered.
    He touched her cheek once, lightly, then turned back down the stairs. But all the way down the walk