just the right firmness. He smelled like apple blossom honey. And when he swiped his tongue over my lips once before pulling away, it was very pleasant. Tingle-inducing, even. Like, seriously good, high-quality kissing that earned two thumbs up from me and for a half second there made me wonder if maybe I’d misjudged things. If maybe I should try harder.
“Good. Lord. Good frickity freakin’ Lord. What am I witnessing right now? Paul, cover baby Beau’s eyes. Diesel, cover Marigold’s eyes. Somebody, cover my eyes, or else make Tucker stop giving Parrish the world’s worst example of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation!”
At the sound of Ava’s voice, I jumped away from Tucker like I was spring-loaded and pressed a shaking hand to my mouth. My eyes found Diesel’s immediately—head and shoulders above everyone, as always—and I watched emotions skitter across his face. Surprise. Sadness. Resignation. Utter blankness. Then he stared down at Marigold, who was strapped to his chest in the front carrier I’d bought him, fast asleep.
My stomach plummeted hard, even before I registered the guy standing by Diesel’s elbow.
Stewie, the greasy little lawyer who was supposed to be helping Diesel get custody of Marigold, stood between Diesel and Paul Siegel. He stared at me and then behind me at Tucker, then up at Diesel, like he expected some kind of reality TV throwdown.
I swallowed. Stewie worked for Diesel, right? I was pretty sure Diesel had said Stewie was the best he could afford. But was Stewie required to go report what he’d seen? If he had doubts about the stability of my relationship with Diesel, would he report them to the caseworker who was coming next week or to the judge who’d make the final custody decision?
Would I really trust Marigold’s future to a man who’d wear a polyester suit to an orchard?
And why, oh why, hadn’t I thought about any of this before agreeing to this stupid date?
Because I was an idiot and a coward who was afraid of getting his heart bruised, that was why, and so it was my responsibility to fix this shit.
“It’s not what you think,” I blurted. “It’s a… a town tradition.”
Stewie glanced up at Diesel, who still wore that terrible, blank expression on his face, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Kissin’ other guys? If you say so, kid.”
“It’s the Lickin’ Kissin’,” I lied desperately. “It’s a… a traditional way of greeting your close friends. Only observed here in the Thicket. On select Sundays. In September. In this orchard.” I swallowed. “It’s fallen out of fashion in recent years, but I say we bring it back.”
There was a moment of stunned silence where eight pairs of eyes stared at me and at each other, and a lone voice in the crowd called out, “I thought the Lickin’ Kissin’ was in December?” then…
“He speaks the truth!” Ava proclaimed from Diesel’s other side. She turned toward Mal so fast her blonde ponytail swung out behind her, clasped his face in her two hands, and pulled him down to press an enthusiastic kiss to his lips.
Mal made a startled mmmph noise.
“Joyous Pickin’ Tidings, Malachi!” she said as she released him.
“Uh. Okay?” he mumbled. “Joyous Pickin’ Tidings?”
“Good God,” Brooks muttered, shaking his head and hauling his fiancé back against his side.
“Brooks,” Ava prompted insistently. “Don’t you have a closest friend to kiss?”
He stared wide-eyed across the group of us at Ava’s husband, Paul, who smiled a big, cheesy grin.
“Come on, Brooks,” he said, making a gimme gesture with both hands. “It’s been a year since the last time you laid one on me in a field.”
“It was you who laid one on me, and—” Brooks broke off as Ava’s glare grew more insistent. “I have no idea what’s happening here, but fine. Fine.” He brought both hands to his mouth, kissed them, and blew them toward Paul. “Joyous Pickin’…” He looked at Ava expectantly.
“Tidings,” she supplied.
“Right. Yes. Of course. Silly me. Joyous Pickin’ Tidings,” he recited.
Paul jumped in the air exuberantly, catching the kisses. “Back atcha, Big Daddy.”
“You solemnly swore you’d never use that name again,” Brooks sighed.
Ava Siegel winked at me and tilted her head toward Diesel significantly. “Go on,” she mouthed.
I stared at Diesel and swallowed as I took a cautious step toward him. Diesel stared back, and the whole world outside the two of us went fuzzy around the edges like it had completely ceased to matter, ’cause it kinda had, at least to me.
I lifted a hand to touch the golden-brown hair I’d been wanting