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“Nothing to worry about. Drake’s a friend of mine, just as he is yours. Besides, you know me and Colt are amicable,” Charlene said, patting Paige on the back as she hustled behind the counter to check inventory.
Colt and Drake weren’t the only best friends who’d gone into business together. Three years ago, Paige had inherited Wilcox’s from her grandfather upon his passing and she hadn’t been ready to let it go. She also hadn’t been willing to take over running the feed store herself. Since Charlene had just gotten out of her marriage—extremely amicable, thank you very much, which probably spoke to the lack of passion she and Colt had endured for the bulk of their relationship—she’d been at loose ends. Along with helping out at Rosa’s, her mama’s Mexican restaurant, Charlene also taught a couple of yoga classes a week and hoped to maybe one day open her own studio. The college courses she’d taken while helping out on the Bennett farm hadn’t given her quite enough background to feel comfortable managing her own business yet.
She’d ended up sharing a business instead.
Three years later, she and Paige were partners, the feed store was turning a tidy profit and she was sexy, single and free. Hell, two out of three wasn’t bad. At least her yoga classes kept her flexible for all the sex she wasn’t having. But that might change someday. A girl could dream, right?
Paige made a noise in her throat. “I do know that, but it’s just not natural to get on that well with an ex. I mean, y’all could grab a pizza together and not even give each other the side eye. That’s just flat-out wrong.”
Laughing, Charlene hopped up on the stool behind the counter and crossed her legs before pulling her clipboard onto her lap. “What’s wrong with it? I’ve known Colt since high school.”
And Colt’s little sister, Hollie. And Wade.
Thinking about him made her nervous for more reason than one. Her whole family was heavily superstitious, avoiding black cats and not stepping under ladders, and she half suspected musing about Wade might make him appear.
Besides, thoughts of Wade led to thoughts of Wade’s eyes, that faded denim blue that crackled to life as easily as his sexy songs crackled through her radio. Wade’s lips, crooked and oh-so-soft. And Wade’s hands, broad with blunt-tipped fingers that had cradled her cheeks so tenderly the one and only time they’d kissed.
“You’re divorced. That means you’re supposed to hate each other’s—well, hello there. Speak of the very fine devil.” Paige’s voice took on that honeyed quality she adopted as easily as the slight twang she’d developed after moving to the area years ago from New York. Paige might’ve been born a Yankee, but it was impossible to tell when she didn’t want that fact known. “Whatcha doin’ over here this time of day, Mr. Bennett? Your partner already called in an order.”
“Paige, you’ve known me what, six years now? I think we can dispense with the Mr. stuff.” Colt turned his easy grin on Charlene. Only someone who knew him as well as she did would be able to discern the tension around his eyes and mouth. “You had lunch yet?”
Charlene sat up straighter and tried to mentally scrub the Wade-induced flush from her cheeks. Especially when she was face-to-face with his older brother. It wasn’t a new predicament to find herself in, but the whole brother-vs-brother thing in her head was getting old. Not that there had ever been any real contest. Colt had first been her boyfriend, then a few years after high school, the man who had offered her forever.
Wade had just kissed her to satisfy some competition thing he’d had going with Colt—or heck, maybe he’d lost a bet—before he left town for good.
Whatever Wade’s reasons, that momentary lapse in judgment on her part had caused her a whole lot of trouble over the years. Never mind the fantasies of going further than kissing instigated by that one stolen moment. Her future mother-in-law had witnessed the tail end of it, and had perennially doubted Charlene throughout the length of her marriage to her eldest son. She and Wade had never been alone for more than a few minutes for the five years she and Colt had been married, but it hadn’t mattered. The die was cast. She was the scarlet woman, minus the A on her chest.
Amazing what repercussions a dumbass move at seventeen could have on someone’s entire life.
She cleared her throat and refocused on Colt’s face. “No. I haven’t. You got something cooking?” He had to, because as friendly as they were, they usually didn’t have impromptu lunch dates.
Something was up. If the way he kept cracking his jaw meant anything, it was something big.
“Sure do. I’m craving some of your mama’s fajitas something fierce.” Colt slid his grin
Paige’s way. “Hey, why don’t you join us?”
The out-of-left-field invitation to Paige seemed to knock Colt off his stride as much as it did Paige. They were all friends, and friends ate lunch together, but Colt’s stiff-shouldered appearance suggested more was at work here than the simple sharing of a meal.
“It’s the middle of the day, Mr. Bennett.”
“Call me Colt, all right?” His good-natured smile was fading fast. “Come on, can’t you two take a break? Maybe let Steve the stockboy run the register for an hour?”
“His name is just Steve, not Steve the stockboy, and he does many other vital tasks ‘round here.” Paige rolled her eyes and elbowed Charlene. “Go on and get this guy out of here, would you? Some of us can’t take off for long lunches and margies.”
Colt crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Yeah, and that someone isn’t you, since you’re the boss and can do whatever you damn well please.”
Paige’s golden brown eyes flashed with a rare show of temper. “Maybe that’s how you run your business, but it’s not how I run mine.” With a swish of her hips, she headed into the back room. Then she leaned out and called to Charlene, “See? Flat-out wrong.”
“What’s her problem?” Colt leaned an arm on the counter. “I just wanted to take you ladies to lunch.”
“I think she’s sick of Mexican food or something.” Shaking her head, Charlene sighed and set aside her clipboard.
Unless Charlene was very mistaken, she was pretty sure her best friend resented Colt’s seemingly easygoing approach toward work. Paige had scrabbled for every nickel since she was a kid raised by a single mother. While Colt hadn’t been born with a silver spoon either, he’d always given off an air of indulgence that transcended his bank balance. Both before and after his brief stint in the NFL, he’d acted as if he never worried about money. Though he now spent long hours getting dirty working with his horses, he still retained the bearing of a casually rich man who rarely lifted a finger.
Still, it was odd for Paige to get irritated so easily. Normally she had a sunny disposition that alternately made Charlene envious or annoyed, depending on Charlene’s own level of caffeine imbalance that day.
“What about you?” Colt asked. “Are you off Mexican too or can we go get some lunch?”
