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“Where are you going?”
I grunt. It’s none of Elder’s damn business.
“Dressed like farmer MacDonald I may add.”
I glance down at my outfit. I’m wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. It’s the same outfit I wear every single day throughout the year. Although, when winter hits, I might swap out the t-shirt for a sweatshirt.
“Are you going to tell me or am I going to phone Brody and Riley?”
“And Peace. Don’t forget Peace,” Peace says as he joins us at the back door.
I glance behind him and notice he’s not alone. All of the Bragg brothers – except Damon who still refuses to move to Winter Falls – are here. I scowl.
“I vote for him chasing after Eden,” Brody says.
Riley raises his hand. “Agreed.”
Peace chuckles. “This having brothers thing is more fun than I ever imagined.”
Riley bumps his shoulder. “Assuming you’re not the one in the hot seat, I agree.”
I get it, Riley. You got your girl. Although how he managed to convince Moon to give him a third chance is beyond me. He royally fucked up.
I didn’t fuck up. At least, not as bad as he did. I may have bickered with Eden about the brewery expansion and screamed at her each and every time we were in the same room, but I didn’t dump her because I was afraid.
Speaking of afraid, I reach for the door handle. Today’s the day Eden is going to confess her fears to me. And I have the perfect plan to make it happen. Peace grasps my shoulder and hauls me away from the door before I can escape.
I scowl at him. “You’re supposed to be a police officer.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not on duty today.”
I grunt.
“Do you think he grunts at Eden while they’re in bed together? Grunt. Grunt.” Brody thrusts his hips.
“He didn’t seal the deal, remember?” Elder taunts.
I smirk. “Oh, I sealed the deal all right.”
“And then she couldn’t run away from your bed fast enough,” Riley says and they all begin high-fiving each other.
I use the distraction to flee. I’m not running away. This is a strategic retreat. I have places to be.
“Hey, Eden,” I call as I approach her gardens.
The gardens stretch out from behind her store pastBertie’s Recording Studiountil they hit the border for the brewery.
She doesn’t bother to glance up at me from where she’s kneeling. “What do you want?”
“I’m here to help.”
She stands and brushes her hair off of her face. The tips are dyed blue today. The color matches her blue dress with daisies on it.
“I don’t need your help.”
I glance at the crates of tomato plants and begonias.
“Seriously. I do this every year.”
