Applewild by Heather Lin Page A

The décor was Madison’s. The bed was big and expensive with a down comforter. The bathroom was a recent addition. Yet, somehow, even the possibility that Monroe’s feet had touched the same floorboards made him feel close to her. Why did he want that?
    Alton only wished he’d been more lucid when he was in her actual apartment. He wished he’d had the sense to wait for her, to make some grand apologetic gesture, to save their short-lived arrangement somehow. Now he was left missing her. And he did miss her. How could he have let this happen?
    He picked up a piece of paper he’d tossed on the dresser the night before. One of the girls at the bonfire—Kyle—had given him her number. Why not distract himself from the girl he’d been using as a distraction with another girl?
    He blocked his number from her caller ID and dialed. She answered after two rings in a perky, southern-belle voice that would definitely get on his nerves after a few days. Perfect.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi, Kyle? It’s Alton.”
    “Oh, hi, Alton!” She giggled.
    Scratch that. She would probably get on his nerves after a day. But he had a hunch that was all he’d need.
    “Are you free tonight?”
    “Well, yeah, of course I am for you. But I did see that picture online. Aren’t you and Monroe involved?”
    “Not exclusively.” His words were smooth, easy, sensual.
    “Well, yeah, of course I’d love to see you.”
    “Great. I don’t want to go to a very public place.”
    “Well, yeah, definitely not.” Well, yeah, maybe he could stand her for a few hours. “My roommate’s working tonight, so…if you want to come by…”
    “Sounds great. What’s the address?” He scribbled it down. “I’ll see you around seven.”
    “Great!” she responded. “See you then, stud.”
    He ended the call and stared at the blank TV screen. Stud? He shook his head and went to the bathroom to shower. He washed, rinsed, dried, and, for the first time in almost a week, shaved. He threw on jeans and a t-shirt, then lay back on the bed and turned on ESPN. He watched college football until 6:00pm, when he grabbed his cigarettes, keys, and wallet and went downstairs. Ms. Hutter’s door was closed and Elsa was gone for the night. He had a straight shot through the house to the pillared patio.
    The truck was by the barn. He lit up on the way and smoked until he reached the building. The scent of his cigarette mixed with the warm, breezy air. It ruffled his hair, almost pushing him in the direction he was going.
    In the right direction, his mind seemed to whisper.
    The double doors were open just a crack. He could hear a quiet scraping sound. He still had the keys to the truck. He didn’t have to go in, but he couldn’t fight the urge to take a quick peek. Monroe’s back was to him. One of the horses was tethered to the aisle on both sides, and she was bent over his hoof, cleaning it with a pick.
    The horse snorted, and Alton pulled back. He needed to get in the truck and go—go have dinner, go get laid, go take his mind off the woman who was driving him crazy.
    And that woman wasn’t Sophie anymore.
    Alton tried to keep his footsteps soft as he followed a trail of flattened grass to the carport. He opened the door carefully and considered putting it in neutral and rolling it away like a teenager trying to sneak out in the middle of the night.
    He had more pride than that.
    But before he could open the door and let the engine roar to life, he caught sight of Monroe’s reflection in the window. Her arms were crossed over her chest, pushing her breasts up, deepening the outline of her cleavage through the plain shirt she wore. His cock twitched, aching, begging him to finish what he’d started with her. But that wasn’t happening. He’d have to get his fix elsewhere. Still, he released the handle and turned to her, making even eye contact with the sunset as their background.
    “I thought I was quiet,” he said.
    “You were. I smelled the