Page 13 of Peaches

I try like hell to hold back a laugh, relieved that this harebrained scheme of mine isn’t going as badly as I thought it might. “Of course we’re going again,” I confirm, nudging the kickstand back down. “You think I’m going to make you walk from here?”

She shrugs like she’s only just realizing we’re pulled over in the middle of some country back road along the edge of town. “Whydidwe stop?” she finally asks, squinting at me.

“I don’t know where you live.”

Recognition sparks in her eyes. “Oh!Right. Erm, you know that little street behind the gazeb—” She stops short, as if she accidentally let something slip. I know damn well about the rumors, the ones about me and that gazebo, but I’m sure as shit not getting into any of that right now. Instead, I stay quiet and wait for her to keep going. “Um, Turnip Lane. My house is at the end of it.”

“Great.” I nod. “I know where that is.”

Instead of getting back on the bike, Olivia simply looks at me. The silence between us seems to stretch all the way to the line of dense trees beyond the ditch, and then she takes a deep breath. “Thank you,” she finally says. “For . . . for making Tony leave. And taking me home.”

“So you admit to dating assholes?”

She scoffs, her defensiveness sharp like a whip. “I never said Tonywasn’tan asshole. I just . . . it’s not intentional.”

“Being an asshole?”

“Datingassholes,” she clarifies. “I’m not good at this. I-I’m honestly not much of a dater, like, atall. But I’m trying to put myself out there, and you happened to catch both of my first real attempts at it. Clearly I’m not having much luck.”

I lean back in the seat of my bike, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why are you trying to put yourself out there?”

Olivia looks away, gaze lost somewhere down the road. Her shoulders curl forward in a way that makes me think she’s bracing herself for something uncomfortable, and it sends my blood pulsing on some primitive instinct to be alert. “I don’t know,” she starts. Her teeth rake against her bottom lip, and I zero in on the movement. “I guess I feel like I might be missing out on something, you know?”

I consider her words. Truthfully, I’ve dated plenty—if you count casual flings and one-night stands. I’ve never let myself get too serious with anyone because I don’t think any of that relationship shit is worth it, but . . . A thought rips through my mind, sudden and blaring and brighter than anything I’ve felt in a long time. “Maybe I could help,” I rush out.

Her face twists into sheer confusion as she looks back at me, and the effect is damning.Fuck, the last thing I want to do is make a fool of myself, but something about the idea of Olivia Danvers experimenting with dating puts me on edge. “Help?” she parrots.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Why not?” When she doesn’t say anything, I follow up with, “You lookin’ for a husband?”

Her brow furrows. “God, no. I’m just . . . dating. Trying to have a little sense of adventure.”

I can’t help the grin that splits my face wide open. “Well, peaches, you’re in luck, because I have a mean sense of adventure.”

She shifts her weight to one foot, scrutinizing my face. “Are you making fun of me?”

I drop the grin. “No,” I say, shaking my head firmly. “I’m not making fun of you. I’m just offering a solution.” Embarrassment crawls up the back of my neck as I try to make a case for this. “Look, I don’t want to see you taken advantage of by dipshits like Tony or Trey?—”

“Trent.”

“Trent, whatever. If you’re just looking to get out on the town and have a little fun, I can help with that.”

Anticipation unfurls in my chest when it looks like she might actually be considering it, but then something in her eyes flares. “I’m not having sex with you,” she says haughtily.

I almost choke on my tongue, the night air brushing against the sweat at my temples. “I never said I wanted to have sex with you. Jesus, woman.”

She nods, accepting that answer. “So, a few dates? Just until I clear out some of my proverbial cobwebs?”

“I’m not exactly sure what that means,” I rebound. “But yeah, I’ll take you on a few dates. Why not?”

Even as I say the words, all the reasons why this is a horrible idea come charging through my mind like a stampede of wild mustangs. I’m thelastperson Olivia should be tying her good name to. If anyone in town knew she was going out with me, she’d never hear the end of it. It’s not like I even have time for something like this—lord knows there’s enough going on at home. I don’t need any distractions, especially a five-and-a-half-foot smokeshow who’s already getting under my skin.

But the thought of her spending another second listening to some asshole convince her that she’s not worth it is something I can’t seem to stomach. I’m not sure why I care so much, but I do. It calls to mind all the times I may have taken a girl for granted, acting like I was above it all—I hope I never made any of them feel the way I imagine Olivia felt tonight, hearing that bullshit.

“Okay,” she finally says. “How many?”

“How many what?”

“Dates,” she says.

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