Page 23 of Restored By You

“He seemed to like my pickles.”

I laugh, and it’s louder than I mean it to be, and Rhett’s mouth curves like he’s pleased with himself, like getting that out of me was the point.

Then he asks, “Why this house?”

I glance up. “What do you mean?”

“You could’ve bought anywhere.” He leans back, yummy forearms crossed, and those latte eyes stay right on me. “You bought a hundred-year-old craftsman in a town you’ve never been to. Why?”

I pause for a moment to consider his question. Nobody has asked me that, I realize. My father asked what it cost. My editor asked what it looked like. Callie asked if I’d lost my mind, affectionately. But nobody has asked me why, and I’m unsure how honest I want my answer to be.

“Because somebody built it to last,” I say, my gaze shifting, not wanting to get sucked any further into his suave stare. “Then everybody who came after treated it like it wasn’t perfect to begin with.”

The words land on the table between us and I want desperately to pick them back up.

Rhett doesn’t say anything.

“That sounded very deep,” I say quickly, reaching for my drink with a forced laugh. “It’s really just about the crown molding, honestly, the crown molding in that dining room is genuinely a work of art—”

“Rhett Montgomery.” A woman’s voice, bright and delighted, cuts clean across my spiraling. “You haven’t been out in ages!”

I turn to find a couple crossing toward us, and I don’t need the introduction to know they’re his. The man is enormous—broader than Rhett, older, with a heavy dark beard and a serious case of RBF (aka resting-bitch-face). His hand is laced through the fingers of the woman beside him, a pretty brunette with a wide, knowing smile and eyes that land on me with interest.

“Butch, Cass,” Rhett says, and something in his shoulders shifts. “I thought it was Duke and Maci’s date night this week.”

“We swapped.” She’s still looking at me. “Maci had a thing on Thursday. Who’s this?”

“This is…Shea.” Rhett clears his throat. “She bought the Hargrove place. I’m doing the reno. She’s, uh, Callie’s friend. Shea, this is my older brother, Butch, and his wife, Cassidy.”

Butch and Cassidy? Why do those names sound like they belong together?

“Another California girl,” Butch grunts, his voice flat as his eyes cut to the roll of blueprints, the open folder, the two drinks, the general arrangement of the table.

“Butch.” Cassidy swats his arm, but she’s laughing.

Rhett drags a hand down his jaw, watching me.

“We were just going over the plans,” I say, and immediately regret the defensiveness of it. I shake off the feeling and put on my biggest, brightest face alongside an extended hand. “It’s so nice to meet you both.”

Butch shakes my hand and stares at me for a long second, then to Rhett. He grumbles something I don’t catch and shakes his head before offering to buy the next round. His brother follows.

Cassidy pulls out the stool beside me without an invitation, dropping onto it like we’ve been friends for years. “Okay. I’m going to need the entire story here. Starting with the flood, I heard it was—”

My brows raise. “Wait. How did you hear about the flood?” That was literally twenty-four hours ago.

“Small town, sweetheart,” she beams.

Over her shoulder I spot Rhett and Butch at the bar, heads bent in conversation, and I feel…nervous for some reason. I mean, I am talking to his sister-in-law.

“They’re talking about you,” Cassidy says cheerfully, following my gaze.

A burst of anxious laughter escapes me. “They are not…” I trail off, knowing she may be right.

“Rhett is a really great guy,” she offers, unprompted. She leans forward conspiratorially. “Like the best guy I know, aside from Duke. And Butch is great, too, but like…in his own way? He’s kind of an asshole.” She smiles wide and I have no choice but to smile, too.

Is this what they mean by small-town charm?

“Is that my favorite sister-in-law?” is shouted across the bar, and somehow, I recognize the voice before I see the owner. Then Levi is here, sliding into the group like he was always part of it, ruffling Tyler’s hair on his way past the pool table. Tyler ducks, scowling with a curious glance in my direction.