Page 39 of Your Place or Mine

Drew.

Callum’s brother.

Naturally good-looking in thatI-chop-wood-for-funway, only with less scowl and more sparkle. His basket had bread, peanut butter, something green that looked like spinach, and a box of cereal with a cartoon tiger on the front.

Not that I was keeping tabs or anything.

“Hey,” I said, a little warily.

Melanie stopped beside me, already intrigued.

Drew grinned. “Glad I caught you. I hoped to get a minute without my brother breathing down my neck or yours.”

“That does seem like a rare window,” I said cautiously.

He chuckled. “Yeah. So, uh—first off, welcome again. I know the town has quirks, but it grows on you.”

“Thanks,” I said. “So far, so good.”

He shifted the basket on his arm. “And second, I wanted to apologize. On behalf of Callum and the entire Benedict family.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“He’s, uh… he doesn’t like change. And he’s a dick ninety-eight percent of the time. It’s kind of a family trait. Like the eyebrows and jawline.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just stared at him for a second. “That’s… honest.”

Drew nodded. “He doesn’t mean to be rude. Well, okay, sometimes hedoes, but usually it’s just preemptive. He’s convinced anyone new is here to ruin something, and he liked how things were in the past.”

“That’s comforting,” I said dryly.

He smiled. “I’m not saying you should excuse him. Just… don’t take it personally. He’s been here so long, he thinks protecting this place means barking at anyone who walks in with ambition.”

I looked down at the handle of my cart, fiddling with it. “I’m not trying to ruin anything.”

“I believe you.” He looked at me kindly, with none of the edge or suspicion I’d come to expect. “Anyway, I just wanted to say that. You don’t owe him anything, but I figured someone ought to at leastacknowledgethe grumpy elephant in the room.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped me. “Grumpy elephant. That’s accurate. More like a wooly mammoth.”

Drew smiled again, then glanced to his left directly at Melanie, who was suddenly very focused on comparing jars of peanut butter with the dedication of a food scientist.

Something in his expression shifted, barely a flicker, but I caught it.

She caught it, too.

“Anyway,” he said, blinking like he remembered he had a basket of groceries. “I should probably go before I talk myself into buying twelve types of sourdough. But it was nice running into you.”

“You too,” I said.

He nodded at Melanie with a polite smile. “Have a good weekend.”

Melanie gave him a look that was one part innocent and two parts knowing. “You too, Drew.”

He turned and wandered toward the dairy section, whistling softly.

The moment he was out of earshot, Melanie wheeled around to face me.

“Okay. Maybe there’s hope after all.”

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