Page 32 of Peaches & Pistols

Instead of answering her, I open the door and sweep her into a hug. “Are you so excited?”

“Yes! Harper said I can pet the horses!”

“That’ll be so fun, baby! Let’s grab you a jacket since it might get chilly outside tonight.”

Following her to the front door, I fight the urge to look over my shoulder but fail. No note on the counter. Disappointment dampens my mood, which is stupid because he hasn’t been home since I’ve been back. The notes don’t appear by magic.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” Delilah fawns over Everly as soon as we enter the main house at the ranch.

“Isn’t she?” Izzy coos from Everly’s other side.

My daughter may not be used to so much attention but she’s eating it up like candy.

“Is it alright if we take her to see the horses?” Izzy asks me. “Livy got Harper saddled as soon as she got here and they’re walking the south paddock.”

My eyes must widen an inhuman amount because Delilah chimes in, “We won’t let Everly get on a horse, just pet some fuzzy noses and feed some treats.”

Once I can breathe again, I relent and am left in the main house by myself. Wildly uncomfortable and antsy, I explore the front living room.

Family photos pepper the walls, shelves, and mantles across the space. I thought everyone was exaggerating when they said Greyson was like one of the Andersen brothers, but the proof is in the pictures.

He stands beside the three brothers, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve assumed there were in fact, four Andersen brothers.

The youngest in the photos is unfamiliar to me, though I’ve barely interacted with the eldest either. As the boys age into men, the youngest brother stops appearing in the pictures. I look a few frames back, and forward again, to make sure I haven’t missed him somewhere.

“He died a couple years ago.” Greyson’s deep voice startles me, hand flying to my chest, backed against the bookcase.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He points at the photos I was examining, the loss of the youngest brother in each frame.

“Sam. Miss him every day. Ain’t the same without the bastard.” He chuckles.

I’m no stranger to covering grief with humor, and in a way, I feel more connected with Greyson for it. They may not have shared blood, but he lost a brother the same as I lost my sister.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Greyson simply nods in reply. To escape the tension between us, I continue walking the perimeter of the room.

I reach a shelf that pulls a giggle from my throat. “Are these armadillos?”

“That, they are.” He chuckles. “It was a Sam thing.”

It’s strange but equally enchanting.

“Thank you for inviting us to the party,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence.

A nod is all I get in reply, but nothing more is needed.

“You settling in alright?”

I take a deep, cleansing breath. “Yes, I think so.”

“What’s the hesitation?”

Do I tell him? How do I say it without sounding ungrateful?

“I feel like I’m doing everything expected of me as Harper’s nanny.”

“More than what’s expected. You’re a godsend.” His praise sends chills up the back of my neck.