Page 29 of Big Dill

“Come in.” I wave her closer, and she steps inside, careful, curious. “You’re interested in yoga?”

“I am. I love yoga. I used to do it when I lived in the city.” Her eyes sweep the room. “We’re all so excited that you’re opening a studio. Are you going to do hot yoga?”

“I haven’t figured everything out yet,” I admit, glancing around like the walls might have answers for me. “But it’ll probably be on the program.”

“Please make it Tuesday or Thursday afternoons,” she says with a laugh. “I work at the hotel, and I’m off in the afternoons on those days.” She checks her watch, then adds, softer, “My daughter is in daycare through the weekdays, but not in the evening.”

I think of the daycare I passed earlier, the painted windows, the tiny boots lined up by the door. “There’s no daycare in the evenings here?” I ask, my mind racing.

She twirls the pickleball paddle in her hand, the motion absentminded. “I could ask my parents. I just hate relying on them too much.” She shrugs. “I come here during lunch to get a game in, but I can’t even join a pickleball team. They mostly run at night, and it’s always a struggle to find someone to watch Laci.”

I don’t ask about a husband. Or why she’s doing this alone. I can only assume he’s one of the ones who left.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I say, and I mean it. I walk over to the stack of stability balls and lower myself onto one, wobbling gently. “I want this to work for everyone.”

“Do you play?” she asks, nodding toward the courts beyond my doors as she continues to twirl her paddle. “Want to get a game in sometime?”

“Actually…” I laugh, a little self-conscious. “I don’t.” I shrug. “My brother’s a champion pickleballer and I don’t even know the first thing.”

“I can teach you.” She grins. “We could partner up against Jaxon and Brody.”

The offer is so easy, so genuine, it catches me off guard. “I’d love to partner up,” I say, and I mean it.

Movement in the doorway draws my attention, and I push to my feet as Jaxon’s broad, athletic frame fills the space. He looks around the room like he built it himself, and I guess, well, he did.

“Like it?” he asks, eyes bright, proud.

“I love it, Jaxon.” Emotion thickens my voice. “Thank you.”

“Hey, Rachel,” he says, turning to her. “I see you met my sister.” He drops a hand on her shoulder as he passes. There’s a fondness there, friendship. That’s when it hit me. Jaxon belongs here. He’s made this place his home and it looks good on him. He comes to me, and loops an arm around my shoulder.

Rachel’s gaze goes back and forth between the two of us. “You guys look alike.” she says.

I snort out a laugh. “That’s what every girl wants to hear.”

“Or any guy,” Jaxon adds, chuckling.

Her face pales. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean⁠—”

“We’re joking, Rach,” Jaxon says gently. “My little sister does look like me, and she’s thankful for it every day. Aren’t you, sis?”

“Oh, puh-lease.” I roll my eyes. “It’s a curse.”

Rachel relaxes, laughter returning, though her gaze lingers on my brother just a beat longer than necessary.

Ah. Interesting.

“So,” Jaxon says, glancing around again, businesslike now. “You like the space? Anything we missed? If there is, tell us and we’ll fix it.”

“It’s perfect,” I say. “I’m going to work on a schedule this afternoon.” The words make my stomach flutter. “I’m excited to get started,” I add, surprised at how true it feels.

“Hey, Rachel,” Brody says as he steps into the room. “Looks like you two have met.” He glances at me. “I played hockey with Rachel’s brother, Hunter, for years. We’re also on the same dart team.” He drapes an arm over Rachel’s shoulders, casual and comfortable. It does not—not even a little bit—stir something strange in my chest that feels suspiciously like jealousy. “Rachel is the little sister I’ve always wanted.”

Rachel laughs. “And Brody’s the big brother I’ve always wanted. Just don’t tell my actual big brother.” She grins. “Kidding. I love my brother.”

“Darts?” I say. “You have a dart team?” When did Brody turn fifty? I bite back a chuckle and keep the question to myself. Clearly, things are different in this town.

“Saturday nights. Once a week. At Moose and Mugs.”