I raised a brow, surprised. “That’s not an answer.”
“I enjoy meeting new people. Seeing new places. I don’t think I was made for roots.”
I tucked her words into the back of my mind as a reminder. Not made for roots. I’d used that to wash over me like cold water when I got all dreamy and wondering about her, me, and what-ifs.
“It’s a beautiful gift.” I turned back to the tree, resuming my collecting. “Being able to connect with new people. Charm them.”
“It’s a skill I’ve worked on over the years.”
“Worked on?”
“I used to be extremely argumentative. Picked fights at the academy with anyone outside of my family.” She held the bag steady for me to drop in more fruit. “It was adefense mechanism after years of trying to get my family to listen to my ideas. Safer to challenge others than the root of the issue.”
“Makes sense.” I slipped the last couple of peaches into the bags, retrieving it from Rae. “And now, you can just flirt with anyone who looks your way.”
I wanted it to be a light and silly comment. But the words came out like a judgment, prickly and hot. Like I carried disdain.
Rae didn’t bat an eyelash, but her smile faded ever so slightly. My stomach turned. I tried to think of a way to stuff the words back down my throat. I’d choke on them if it meant making her smile again.
“Flirting’s fun,” Rae said simply. “Maybe trivial, but hell, the job can get dark. And I like to find bits of light where I can.”
“I didn’t mean anything by…I’m sorry for saying it like that…”
“It’s fine. It’ll take a lot more than that to offend me.” Rae tossed me a rogue peach. “Are we done here? Seems like you have a good batch.”
“Yeah,” I whispered, limply holding on to the peach.
She started back to the horses without a word. I followed, silently cursing myself.
TWELVE
Alpine’s populationwas three thousand and two hundred. We could find almost everything we needed on Main Street. There weren’t any major big-box stores to get lost in. Or impressive sources of entertainment to attract impressive sets of tourists. The theater was home to a grand total of three screens. Walking through the grocery store took less than five minutes.
Traffic was light during the week, so riding horses on the road was common and often preferred. We passed a few riders, all of them tipping their hats or giving us nods of acknowledgment. Rae and I stopped at Rainwood’s Grocers, tying Frog and Kat to the post outside before going in.
“How adorable,” Rae said as we walked up the porch steps. “Your grocery store’s a cottage.”
“The couple who own it live on the second floor,” I said. My gut still ached from what I’d said about her flirting. This was why I found it easier to keep to myself. This type of social error would haunt me for days.
“Small towns, man.” Rae did a three-sixty, taking in thecarved flowers on the wooden railing and hanging pots, each filled with vines and flowers.
I held the door open for her. A gust of fresh herbs and flowers greeted us. Rae stepped inside, releasing a low squeal when she saw a stack of squirrel plushies on display at the front. She stood in Alpine’s tiny grocer with her expensive boots, pearl earrings, blue button-down, and pressed gray slacks. Rae was all clean, chic edges. She was perfectly manicured details dropped in the middle of a brown, rustic oasis.
She smiled as she took in the store, and I smiled along with her, appreciating the quaintness of everything. All five brown shelves in the middle of the room were fully stocked. Two deep freezers sat on the back wall. There was a section for seeds and gardening equipment in the corner.
“Hey!” someone yelled from the back room. A boy popped up from behind the counter, one hand clutching a backpack, the other hugging a box of candy to his chest. His blond curls were in disarray as he bolted toward us. Toward the door.
“What I tell you about stealing, Liam.” Maggie Rainwood appeared from the back room, her light brown skin red with fury and her hand dripping suds on the floral tiled floor.
Rae caught the back of the kid’s collar with ease, holding him in place. She stumbled a bit, favoring her good ankle. The boy’s feet kept running, a comical attempt to still gain ground.
“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it,” he chanted while trying to stuff the candy box into his backpack.
“Oh, kid,” Rae sighed as if she were truly lamenting his reality, still holding on to his shirt. “You’ve literally been caught red-handed.”
“James!” Maggie called her husband. She snatched a towel from behind the counter, scrubbing her hands dry as she came closer. James bounded down the stairs, his footsteps heavy. The side of his dark brown cheek showed an imprint from where he’d been sleeping.
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie apologized to Rae. “This isn’t how we typically welcome guests. James?—!”
