Page 59 of Peaches

Understanding sinks in. “I haven’t heard anything about it. How would someone know? Did something happen?”

“It’s a long story,” he grumbles. “Someone might be trying to take the ranch from us.”

Oh my god. “Can that happen?”

“I sure fuckin’ hope not.”

The Bennetts have had that ranch forgenerations. How could Brooks’s wife being sick lead to something like that? “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Just . . . just keep talking. This is nice. How was your day?”

My heart aches with the way he changes the subject so quickly. But I don’t want to push too hard, especially not over the phone like this. “Good,” I say. “I talked to my mom. About Charleston.”

“Yeah?” He sounds genuinely intrigued.

“Yeah. I told her I want to go to Charleston, but that I want her to go with me.”

“Well, look at that. That’s a damn good idea.”

“I thought so,” I say, smiling again.

“How’d she take it?”

“Surprisingly well. But after catching her indisposed with our chef, I think she was probably willing to hear anything I had to say.”

“Noway. June Danvers? With thechef?”

A laugh bubbles out of me, loud and bright. “I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’ve sort of been on to them for a while.”

“Stirrin’ up a town scandal—I’m impressed,” he says. “Good for her. Everyone deserves . . . well, that.”

So do you, I think, and it helps me brave the question. “Can I see you again soon?”

A pause. “You miss me, peaches?”

My face burns hot, and I’m thankful he can’t see. “Maybe?”

He chuckles. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Working.” I frown. “But . . . you could come in?”

I doubt he’d want to, especially knowing there’s a threat to the ranch and potential gossip about his sister-in-law. Which is why I’m surprised when he says, “That sounds good. There’s some stuff I need to work on at home, but I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

I smile. “Sounds perfect.” But there’s something else I need to say, something that burns on my tongue. “Hey, Rhett? Wearefriends, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “This isn’t just about . . . experience. At least not anymore. I promise I’m a good friend, and . . . I guess I just want you to know I’m here for you. For anything you might need. You don’t have to be alone with it all.”

He sighs, and I hate that I can’t see his face to read his expression. “Just soyouknow, I don’t exactly tie myfriendsup in my bed, peaches. Though, I bet Colt would love it.”Colt—I’ve heard him say that name before, though I can’t place it with anyone from town. “But I hear what you’re saying, and . . . thank you. I hate to say I don’t think I’m a very good friend myself, but for what it’s worth, I’m here for you too.”

I lean back against the wall and catch my grin in the entryway mirror. “Yeah?”

A dark chuckle. “Yeah. Turns out I have a thing about you smiling.”

He’s . . .flirting,I think. A foreign emotion spills through me, crisp and bubbly, like a bottle of champagne popping open. It floods my senses, distracts me from the conversation until he’s speaking again.

“Don’t tell anyone or I might lose my edge.”

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