Page 4 of Peaches

I swallow a sigh, shaking my head politely. “No thanks. I’m driving tonight.”

Ivan eyes me warily. His regret is evident, which makes me wonder if it’s possible that Trent isn’t normally like this. Maybe he’s having a bad day, letting loose a littletoomuch. Maybe he’s normally a stand-up guy who wouldn’t treat a girl he just met so . . . offensively. I find it hard to believe, but still . . . it’s possible? I give Ivan a small smile that I hope conveys my assured forgiveness and add, “I’ll take a ginger ale, please.”

He nods, turning to Charlotte who asks for her standard vodka cranberry and treats him with a quick kiss on the cheek before he scoots out of the booth. “So.” Charlotte angles toward Trent, propping her chin in the palm of her hand.I know that look, I think. She’s about to get a few licks in. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

Trent’s mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he settles on, “What do you mean?”

“Asking a girl what position she likes literally minutes into meeting her? What kind of animal are you, Trent?”

His brow furrows. “I . . . don’t understand.”

Charlotte grins. “I imagine you wouldn’t, honestly. But here’s the thing”—she leans in real close—“Olivia is my best friend. She’s actually one of the best people I know. But she’swaytoo tolerant of asshole behavior.I, however, am not. I think it’s clear you’re not going to get anywhere near Liv after this, so let’s make a deal, yeah?”

She waits patiently for Trent to respond. To his credit, he gives her a wide-eyed nod.

“Cut the shit. In fact, maybe just don’t speak for the rest of the night. I have a feeling we won’t be here long anyway.” She pushes her hair behind her shoulder. “Can you do that for me, Trent? Can you be quiet?”

I watch as Trent registers he’s being bested, the divot down the center of his forehead splitting his face in two with an effect that I might find comical if not for the anxiety this entire confrontation is giving me. As someone who’s worked in hospitality since the ripe age of twelve—when I was finally strong enough to hold a tray full of plates and drinks—my go-to response to conflict has always been de-escalation.

“What the fuck?” he says, just as Ivan returns with a handful of drinks. “Why are you such a bitch?”

“Hey!” Ivan snaps. “Don’t call her a bitch. What the fuck is wrong with you, Trent?” He sets the drinks down in a disorganized jumble that sends liquid spilling over onto the table, but he remains standing at the end of the booth, towering over us all. There’s an icy heat in his eyes I would never have guessed he could conjure, and my anxiety spikes as I realize I’m trapped between him and the target of his hostility.

Damn. He must really like Charlotte.

Maybe I could just slip down to the floor and crawl out around Ivan’s legs . . .

I’m just about to try my luck when the screeching sound of metal dragging on hardwood precedes a shuffle from somewhere to my left. No one else seems to notice, but something pulls me to lean back so I can get a better view of the bar behind Ivan—and that’s when I see him.

Rhett Bennett.

My stomach lurches at the sight of him. He’s standing next to a high-top table, and he’s looking right at us. Another man in a tan cowboy hat sits at his side, staring up at Rhett with surprise splashed across his dark features.

My gaze jumps back to Rhett, and I find him watching me with so much blatant interest that it causes the hairs on the back of my neck to rise with a shiver. Rhett Bennett, a man of mystery with a reputation in Saddlebrook Falls for trouble, is looking at me like a coyote who just found a plump rabbit.

I nearly shiver again at the implication of what it would mean to be his rabbit.

But he also looks . . . angry.

“I’m sorry, man,” Trent says next to me, pulling my focus back to the booth. “But she’s acting really rude, calling me an animal and shit.”

“That’s because you fucking are, asshole!” Ivan’s voice is laced with frustration. “You’ve been a jackass from the moment we got here. You knew this night was important to me. What’s gotten into you?”

I catch Charlotte’s eyes across the table, widening my own to convey that we need to talk. “I think I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I sputter out.

She tilts her head as she tries to translate my face. “I’ll . . . go with you!”

Trent huffs and reaches for his drink, distracting himself with his phone. As if ignoring Ivan’s glare might somehow get him out of trouble. “What is it with chicks and the bathroom?”

Ivan sighs, moving out of the way so I can stand. “Honestly, dude? Hundred bucks says they’re going to talk shit about you.”

Charlotte smacks his arm as she slides out the other side of the booth. “Ivan!”

“What! You know it’s true.”

“I’ll give you that. Also, thanks for defending me.” She leans in and plants a smacking kiss on his cheek, then turns back to me. “Let’s go.”

I follow her through the crowded bar and down a dark corridor with a RESTROOMS sign hanging above it. There’s a line for the bathroom, but I don’t even care at this point. I slump against the wall, letting it cool my skin.

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