We don’t speak. What is there to say?
She’s here, on my turf, for reasons unknown. She—or her parents, more likely—bought out the one thing that has felt like home, and I know Sawyer won’t be happy to hear she’s in town for the foreseeable future.
When we turn onto Main Street, Rae shifts in her seat. I can’t hear her over the radio, but I think she sniffles. She brings her hand up to her face for the briefest moment, then drops it again.
Is she crying?
I frown, stealing a glance at her. She doesn’t return my gaze.
My heart stutters, and I hate my weakness. Sarah, my sister, knows that I’ll give her anything if she cries. She’s not afraid to use it against me.
I didn’t think Hellspawn Montgomery would have that effect on me too, though.
We don’t speak. The air is so thick, it’s hard to take a full breath.
Rae cracks a window, sticking her head toward it and sucking down a breath of fresh, Woodvale air. I don’t blame her. The air tastes better here than anywhere else in the world.
Rae’s eyes scan the street, and I wonder what she thinks of the small town I call home. By all accounts, it’s a beautiful place. Woodvale is nestled between the ocean and the mountains, with a long coastline of cliffs. Tall, mature trees line Main Street, strung up with fairy lights year-round. It rains a lot here, but on days like today, when the sun is shining, there’s nowhere better.
We pass the little artisan bakery that has the best baguettes in the state. The art supply store. The skydive booking center, where I work part-time as a jump pilot.
Rae doesn’t react.
I don’t know why I want her approval. I want her to look at me, nod, and tell me she likes it here. But she says nothing. Just stares, lost in her own thoughts.
When we get to the Woodvale Hotel, a hundred-year-old building with a modern facelift, I park the car out front and cut the engine.
Rae glances at me, and the mask on her face slips. Her eyes are soft. Lips parted. Cheeks rosy, and for the first time, I notice a smattering of pale freckles across her nose.
“Thank you,” she says, and her voice rattles something loose in my heart. With that look on her face, she finds a chink in my armor and pries at it. I don’t hate her nearly as much as I did an hour ago.
I clear my throat, nodding. “Yeah.”
We both exit the truck, and I move to get her suitcase out of the back. While I’m there, a van pulls up in front of our vehicle and Nadia, the redhead who runs the florist shop in town, jumps out. I pause, staring as Nadia slams the van door.
She looks frazzled.
Nadia rips open the back of the van, yanking a box full of flowers toward her. She pulls it too hard, though—or maybe it was lighter than she expected—because Nadia goes flying backward, stumbling into my front fender. The box of cut flowers goes tumbling across the sidewalk, littering the front lawn of the Woodvale Hotel with long-stem white roses.
Cursing, Nadia pulls herself up to her feet. Rae is beside her in a flash, picking up the cardboard box and gathering up flowers.
“You don’t have to do that,” Nadia says, scrambling to pick up the roses. She curses again. “I’ve ruined half of them. I’m so freaking clumsy all the time. I need these flowers. There won’t be enough for the wedding otherwise.”
“They’re fine,” Rae says, picking up another rose and placing it gently in the box. I frown as I watch her treat the flowers with such care. She smiles at Nadia, saying something I can’t hear. Nadia’s shoulders relax. She shakes her head, her curly red hair bouncing around her face.
“These are gorgeous,” Rae says, bringing a flower to her nose.
“Thanks. I had to get them flown in from South America for this wedding today, and they only arrived an hour ago. It’s been an absolute nightmare getting roses here, but the bride and groom insisted. I don’t even want to think about what would have happened if this was Valentine’s Day. Half the roses are still sitting at the airport depot, and they didn’t have a driver available to bring them. I couldn’t fit them all in the van. I’m already late, and the wedding is supposed to start in less than two hours.” Nadia smacks a hand to her forehead, letting out a breath.
“Just drop the boxes here,” Rae says. “I’ll bring them inside, and you can go get the next load. I’ll get one of those trolley things for suitcases. Do they have a valet here?”
Nadia stares at her, then laughs. “No. No, they don’t have a valet here.”
Rae shrugs. “All right. I’ll carry them by hand, then. Where’s the wedding happening?”
I move out from behind the truck, drawing Nadia’s gaze. She looks tired, but she lifts an arm toward me. “Hey, Benji.”
“Need a hand?”
“Uh.” Nadia glances at Rae, tilting her head. “Maybe, yeah. Looks like I have two guardian angels today.” She sticks her hand out toward Rae. “I’m Nadia, by the way.”
“Rae.”
Nadia smiles. They shake, and Rae nods to the van full of flowers. “Let’s get these unloaded.”
“That would be incredible.” Nadia flashes her a brilliant smile. “I was supposed to have help today, but my one employee is a high school student and she’s not exactly reliable. Between that and the truck drivers, it’s been the worst day I’ve had in a while.”
Rae smiles. “I can imagine. Here. Let me grab a box.”
I frown as I stare at the two women. This isn’t the Rae Montgomery who marched into my garage and told me she owned it. This girl
