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“But that’s not the military guy our girl has a hard-on for, though,” Remy stated, continuing to move the sage around the room.
Kinsley finally huffed. “Fine, I guess you may as well know. I might have a small thing for Rhett.”
Remy froze, glanced over her shoulder, and gave an are-you-kidding-me look. “A small thing?”
“Fine,” Kinsley said, rolling her eyes. “I have a pretty big thing, but it’s because he’s terrible for me. What can I say? I’m always going to want the bad boys. You know the ones you should never date, and yet, those are the ones that get my motor running.”
“Has anything ever happened between you?” Peyton asked, honestly curious, and so damn glad the conversation was off her.
“Lord, no,” Kinsley said with wide eyes. “Boone would skin him alive. And I mean that literally.”
Peyton pondered that. “Why wouldn’t Boone want to see you happy? He seems reasonable.”
Remy laughed, raising her arm high in the air, really getting the sage up in the corners. “Most times he is, but Rhett is all trouble, and Boone knows that.”
Kinsley agreed with a nod. “Rhett’s a player with a capital P. He only plays once too. That’s it. Never again. You see the problem.”
“I guess that would be a problem,” Peyton said.
“So, I pine and pine for a man I’ll never have,” Kinsley said dramatically, waving her hand at her face. “I’ve accepted it. That’s just life.”
Peyton could tell that wasn’t really true. And by the sympathy on Remy’s face, so did she. Peyton didn’t say more on the subject. Love was hard. Sometimes it could hurt more than feel good. Peyton knew that. “The guys are really close, aren’t they?” she asked, switching the subject.
“God, yeah, so close,” Remy said.
Kinsley crossed her legs on the counter, dropped her chin into her hand. “They’ve always been like brothers. They fight like brothers. They take care of each other like brothers. It’s sweet.”
Peyton agreed, but she got stuck on something Kinsley said. “What do you mean by ‘take care of each other’?”
“Over the years, every one of them had, what we’ll call”—Remy made quotation marks with her fingers—“a bad spot in their lives. A time where everything seemed to fall apart, and luckily, for them, they swarm in and help each other. Kinsley’s right, they’re all these tough guys, but are so sweet to each other, even if they’d never admit that aloud.”
Kinsley nodded. “It’s what makes them such good detectives. They fill in each other’s missing pieces. They’ve always been that way, ever since they were really little.” She smiled, then waggled her eyebrows. “Now back to my brother. Are you two getting married?”
Peyton laughed. “Oh, yes, don’t you know, he asked me to marry him before we left my house.”
“Ah, that’s so romantic of him.” Kinsley smiled.
Peyton felt the tension rise up in her chest, not wanting anyone to get the wrong idea. “But again, you’re looking way too much into this. Nothing has changed since the last time we talked. I like your brother, but the last thing I want is a serious boyfriend. I’m just not there right now.”
Remy gave her a smile full of understanding and shook her head firmly. “And there is nothing wrong with that,” she said to Kinsley. To Peyton, her smile softened. “We all have our secrets. You tell us what you want. The rest we’ll save for those really drunk nights where we sit and cry and talk about stuff we don’t want to and then wake up the next day and pretend none of that happened.”
“Now that sounds fun,” Peyton said with a laugh. But she wanted her secrets to stay in Seattle. She drew in a deep breath, letting that go, and the overwhelming earthy aroma wafted over her, making her cough, right as the door chimed open.
A dozen middle-aged ladies strode in, carrying flowers, platters of desserts, and cookies.
“My dreams have come true,” Kinsley practically purred.
Peyton laughed.
Remy moved into the back with the sage.
“Hi, Peyton,” Ruth-Ann, the local librarian, said. “We wanted to bring you some goodies, just to make your day better.” She handed her the platter. “You know, with all that happened yesterday and stuff.”
“Thank you so much,” Peyton said, still unable to get used to how friendly people were around there.
The women behind Ruth-Ann looked around the shop; obviously the murder had infiltrated the town’s gossip train. Everyone likely wanted the dirt. They moved in, setting down the treats and flowers on the counter.
“Well, we won’t keep you, dear,” another lady said with a pleasant smile. “Don’t forget you’ve got lots of friends here. If you need us, we’re a phone call away.”
