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“Told you to keep your mouth shut,” Axel griped as he and Mav headed inside to shower off their loss before reporting to the kitchen for an assignment. We might’ve crossed that third-decade line, but we weren’t too rusty. I might have even enjoyed his playful shove that sent Mav’s arm flailing for purchase on the garage wall.
Rhyett hocked a towel in my direction before turning to rifle through his gym bag. “So. You ready to talk?” Fuck, he was always so good at that. Waiting for me to come to him.
“Yeah,” I grunted, sliding my ass up on his tailgate before I wiped the sweat off my brow and set the towel around my shoulders. Might as well cut straight to it. Didn’t really know how to do that frilly ass, beat around the bush dance people seemed so inclined towards. “What aren’t you telling me about McShane?”
Rhyett shook his head, but only once before his eyes narrowed, the movement halting. “What are you fishing for?”
“What’s hername, Rhyett.” It wasn’t a question. They’d lied to me. To us. And I was about to make it make sense.
“Remember what I told you?”
“Andhere we go,” I griped.
“She’s been through some shit. She’s starting over. Give the woman a chance to do so. Her name is whatever the fuck she wants it to be.”
“Look, Rhy. I know I’ve been shit at showing I care, but I need to know if she’s in trouble. Should I be concerned?”
“Defineconcerned.”
“Is she in danger? What’s she running from?”
“That’s her story, not–”
“Bullshit.”
“Jameson.”
“I mean it. She’s been here forweeks. She’s running your shop, living in your house. I don’t see Brexley being the kind of woman that would welcome a third party into bed, so there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Rhyett deadpanned. “That’s what you’re basing this on?”
“Her name sure as shit isn’t. Lizzy.Elizabeth. Whatever.”
He pursed his lips before something caught his attention, drawing both our focus to the garden boxes behind our greenhouse, where mom was tromping around in brown knee-high rain boots and an oversized floppy yellow hat, showing Brex and the embodied sunshine her plots, inevitably filling their heads with tales of all things green and leafy.
The former was sporting boots that matched Juniper’s, but the latter’s were mint green with bumblebees on them. Jesus, even her new rain gear was colorful. That’s what was confusing. By all other means, the woman seemed unapologetically herself—untethered from expectations of age or appearance—showing up exactly as she wanted to. Her wardrobe mimicked a busted bag of Skittles in a climate where the palette was all muted grays, blues, and greens. She wore her gorgeous curls wherever they fell, like taming them would offend her. And mid-twenties or not, she liked the bumblebee boots my niece would probably pick out. I hadn’t verified, but had the striking suspicion her bag would contain at least one paint set, or maybe those glittery ass gel pens the girls had loved when they were younger. Zero shits to give to the opinions of others, which was, I’d wager, why everyone and their dog had fallen in love with her. It was cute as hell.
So, what wasn’t she telling us?
“Earn her trust.” Rhyett’s voice tugged me back to the tailgate. Christ, the man wasexhausting. I loved his loyalty when it applied to our family, but this was enough to drive me mad.
“Stop running me in circles, man.”
He shook his head. “You man the fuck up and talk to her yourself. There she is, James. Go get her. If she wants to share, she will. If I feel like shit’s headed in the wrong direction, I’ll let you know.”
“So, sheisin trouble?”
“Does she look like she’s in trouble?”
With no further fucking explanation, Rhyett hopped off the truck and headed for his girl. What the hell did that mean? I didn’t have time to contemplate though, because Skittles was now watching me intently, and that focus gave me the need to go to her. To demand she tell me everything. To demand she let us fix it together. And that didn’t make a lick of fucking sense.
NINE
NOEL
Juniper’s garden plots were absolutely beautiful. When we’d ducked back inside to pull dinner out of the oven, the Rhodes sisters had ushered me to a corner chair, where I dove into the series my Florida girls had begged me to read. I wasn’t big on long series, thick books, or slow-burns, and this was…literally all three. When things finally got steamy, I felt the blood rush to my face, butterflies dancing when theyfinallydid the damn deed. Happily, I closed my e-reader case, swapping it for my phone.
Noel
