“Is this Rhett approved?”
That familiar lip-twitch morphed into a gentle smile. “That’s a little more shop appropriate than the fuzzy socks.”
I rolled my eyes and gave Easton a kiss on his nose. “I’ll be back later, okay? Aunt Rachel will come by to play with you.”
He panted in response and licked my hand.
The faded red truck parked outside my house looked old enough to be vintage. In the bed, Rhett had managed to fit all four chairs and the table into a perfect Tetris formation.
“We’ll need to drive slow,” he murmured, motioning with his chin. “I didn’t have any straps.”
“That’s fine,” I replied as he opened the passenger door. “But I promise you don’t need to fix my furniture—I don’t really use it that often, and when I do, it… still does its job.”
“Barely,” Rhett commented.
“WellIcan still sit in it, so it works.”
“Georgie.”
I smacked myself in the forehead with a groan. “And you just said that you have a lot on your plate! Let’s take this back inside—”
“Georgie,” he cut in again with a sigh. “Please get in the truck.”
Speechless, I glanced from the furniture, to him, and back to the furniture. Rhett had already committed to fixing Marigold’s for free, and now he seemed determined to load even more work on his back because I was a human whirlwind of chaos. That guilty feeling would stick around as long as I kept letting people help me.
I needed to figure out how to get them to stop. So, I drew on a smile and jumped into the truck.
We drove in silence for what felt like ages.
The morning breeze filtered through lowered windows, the perfect mixture of summer warmth and the creeping chill of autumn. I stared at the rich green of the white oaks swaying above us. It was too early to spot any foliage painted with the reddish-brown hues of a season change, but I still searched the treeline every chance I got.
Soon, Bluebell Cove would be ignited in brilliant golden shades of ochre, russet, and bright flecks of amber. With the gentle kiss of a crisp fall breeze came a much-needed pause. After the lull of August and September, tourists would soon begin trickling in again, Captain’s cider clutched in their hands as their eyes devoured the town while it was washed in a multitude of colors.
I tucked a flying curl behind my ear, dragging in a long breath before resting back in the passenger seat.
“No music?”
Rhett made the last turn out of town and looked at me as if I’d interrupted his own stream of distracting thoughts. “You canput on whatever you like,” he murmured and ran a hand through his hair.
I hesitated for a moment before turning the radio on.
And nearly jumped out of my skin as it began blasting the country music station.
His hand shot out before I could think, adjusting the volume and blindly mashing the buttons until it changed. The tinge of pink on his cheeks was unmistakable.
I bit my lip to silence a laugh and settled on an oldie’s channel.
We were silent for several minutes, the low hum of a Billie Holiday song wafting through the cab as the wind whistled in from outside. My fingers drummed on my thigh while Rhett’s blush played through my mind again. I was always flushing and rambling and unraveling around him, and he had remained frustratingly impassive.
But I couldn’t deny that I liked this side of him. I wanted to see it again.
Twisting in my seat, I sent him an innocent smile. “So, the big-city guy likes country music, huh?”
Rhett stopped a little too abruptly at a red light and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Not a bad thing,” I continued. “Just… interesting.”
“I spent every summer here since I could fly alone,” he replied quietly as we turned onto a one-lane road.
