Page 8 of Rushing Into Love

“The Williams’ girl?” Pops cocked his head to the side. “They’re lovely folk. I’m sure she’s alright.”

“Meh.” Charlie shrugged, taking his seat again.

“So, you know them?” I asked, doing my best to sound casual.

“Course. Dad’s some kind of big-time doctor at Emory, mom’s an interior designer in town. Does a lot of work in the city,” Pops said.

“What about the aunt?”

My brother shot me a sideways glance I pointedly ignored.

“Think she lives out in California. I heard she’s some kind of therapist, a relationship expert or something like that,” he said, helping himself to homemade sweet potato fries.

“Be sure to eat the spinach, too, John,” Gigi chided, scooping the unwanted leaves onto his plate.

“Rabbit food,” Pops stage-whispered behind his hand to Charlie, who squealed with laughter at the joke.

“So…the aunt. Think she’s visiting then?” I said nonchalantly, bringing the subject back to Bree.

“Couldn’t tell ya. She did come into the store today, bought some groceries. We didn’t chat long, but she seemed real nice.”

My family owned the Peachtree Grove General Store on Main Street and had for the past hundred years or so. Between my mom, dad, and my dad’s three brothers, they’d managed to keep the store running pretty much 362 days a year, closing only on Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas Day. All of us kids had pitched in on school holidays and during the summers growing up. My dad had not-so-secret hopes one of his sons would take over the store, but it became clear pretty quick that neither Quinn nor I shared that same dream.

After I got injured, he tried talking me into running the store, and I did help out while I went through shoulder rehab. But then I got into Physical Therapy school and his dreams were again denied. He’d taken it like a champ, though, and I was pretty sure that somehow, between twelve cousins, someone would step up and run the store. Probably my cousin Liam.

“Alex’s aunt got tackled at practice,” Charlie said, bobbing his head with excitement.

“Oh my! Was she alright?” Gigi’s brow creased with worry.

“Seemed to be.” I took a swallow of water. “She’s going to come into the clinic tomorrow, you know, to get her knee looked at, make sure she’s okay.” I set my glass down, cleared my throat.

“Is she now?” Quinn cut his eyes at me.

I ignored him. “She could have a microtear. She got laid out pretty bad.” I swiped my hand across my plate, demonstrating the tackle.

“I’m sure you’ll get her all fixed up, little brother,” Quinn chuckled, kicking me under the table.

Glaring at him, I said, “Just want to make sure she’s okay, is all.”

“Sure, right,” Quinn mocked, grinning at me.

“Anyone for dessert?” Gigi rose, changing the subject, while four hands shot up in the air.

* * *

After dinner,I took Charlie home and gave him a bath, then tucked him into bed after readingGoodnight Moonthree times. Now Quinn and I were sitting out on the back porch, drinking icy beers straight from the bottle. The night air was cool, but not yet cold, and a slight breeze kept the last of the surviving mosquitoes away. Wispy clouds filtered the bright moonlight, casting shadows onto the porch. We sat in the dark, looking up at the harvest moon.

Quinn broke the silence. “What’s her name?”

I glanced over at him and raised my eyebrows. Took a slow sip of my beer. “Who?”

“The girl, the aunt. I haven’t seen you interested in anyone in a long time, little brother.” Quinn sat back, resting his ankle on his knee, and fixed his grey eyes on me.

I leaned back in my chair, doing my best to play dumb. “Alex’s aunt, you mean?” I took another long drink.

“Yeah.” He leveled a gaze at me. “Her.”

“Her name’s Bree. That’s all I know,” I shrugged.

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