Page 20 of Peaches & Pistols

“You have any plans on getting a car?”

My hands freeze on a box of dried pasta. “I honestly haven’t had a moment to consider it,” I answer truthfully.

“My truck sits out back all day while I run the store, you’re welcome to use it to get around town.”

“I couldn’t do that,” I rush.

“You could’ve asked for a ride if you’re afraid of driving the truck, I know it’s a big vehicle.”

“I’m not afraid to drive a truck,” I say obstinately.

“I need you to safely transport Harper to and from school, and anywhere else y’all go while I’m working,” he says, no room for argument.

“I understand. I’ll figure something out right away.” With what money? My stomach churns at the impossibility.

“Can you at least call me next time you need a ride?” he asks, exasperated.

With what phone?

He reads me like a large-print book.

“You don’t have a phone.” It’s not a question. It’s a bleak realization.

I shake my head, hair covering my flaming cheeks. I have no reason to be embarrassed for things that were out of my control, but I carry the shame all the same. I willingly married Carter. My situation is no one’s fault but my own.

“I wasn’t allowed to have one.” I’ve never said it out loud.

Greyson’s face turns murderous. Tiny muscles jump in his jaw beneath his stubble.

“Allowed?”

The one-word question hangs heavily between us.

All I can do is nod and hide beneath the curtain of my hair.

8

Me: You got any spare vehicles sitting around the ranch?

Reid: I think you mean “Happy birthday, Reid.”

Me: I’m coming to your birthday dinner for fuck’s sake.

Reid: I’m waiting.

Me: …

Me: Happy birthday, Reid.

Reid: Dick. Now, what were you asking?

Me: Are there any vehicles sitting around the ranch that are available?

Reid: Got an old single cab for hauling shit around.

Me: Anything with a backseat?

Reid: I can ask Connor if Delilah’s car’s available. They always take his truck or one of the ranch trucks.