Page 32 of Peaches

I pull Grace to my side and can’t help but feel how tense her body is in my arms.

“We would?” she questions with a mouth full of spite next to me. I can tell she’s staring at me, attempting to throw daggers with her beautiful blue eyes, but my mind obviously doesn’t care, and I continue to answer for us when I know I should be taking her aside and speaking to her about it first in private.

“We would,” I repeat, as I pull her in tighter and finally turn to look in her eyes. Defiance stares back at me as she goes to speak but I cut her off. “It would offer ustwice,” I inflict with a slight tug on her waist when the word leaves my mouth, “the amount,” another tug, “of hospitality compared to staying in a horrible old hotel, isn’t that right, Peaches?”

“Peaches?” I hear Marie whisper adoringly.

Grace’s eyes are full of fire as they stare back at me, no doubt about it, but something else dances in them. Something I can’t make out. Trepidation, maybe?

But she masks it well as she turns to Marie, plasters a believable smile on her face and says, “I’d love to Marie,” right before she wraps her arm around my waist and pinches me harshly in the side.

Shit, that kind of hurt.

“Itkills,” ouch, another pinch,“me to say, we haven’t had the most pleasant experience there. Wouldn’t you agree, Sugar-dumpling?” She finishes and then looks up at me and glares.

Okay, if we’re doing this, and it appears we are, we are so going to have to talk about that nickname.

“Thank you so much,” she says. “Now if you’d excuse me.”

She turns quickly and I let her go, her body falling out my arms and leaving behind a void, a wall I’m not sure I will ever be able to get past if I don’t work quickly on breaking it down. She stalks off towards the garage and I quickly follow. I’m not sure what I can say, God we’re both in this thing further than we ever thought possible. I don’t know why I agreed. I don’t know why Marie asked. But what’s even more confusing is, I don’t know why Grace even said yes.

“Peaches,” I attempt while we are still in ear shot, but she won’t slow down. She rounds the corner out of the patio and starts stalking towards my car.

“Grace!” I finally hiss as she gives no hint that she’s going to stop anytime soon. Hell, for all I know, she’d be more than willing to walk home. Something I absolutely don’t blame her for trying.

“Fuck, would you please stop!” I shout loudly, but it’s a sentence that appears to finally do the trick.

She spins around quickly, an act that has me jumping backward in fear she may try and punch my lights out, but I loosen up a little when she crosses her arms over her chest and waits for me to continue.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” I begin as I cautiously take a step closer. “I swear I never thought of the end before we even got started. My fault entirely. I don’t blame you for being mad. I’m sorry. If it means enough to you, I’ll walk back in there and tell them no deal, we don’t want to stay at Magnolia Cottage.”

Actually, I won’t. But let’s just leave that between us for now.

She looks off in the distance and won’t meet my eye as I take another step closer. “I meant what I said, I’ll pay you double…”

“Triple!”

Okay, triple, if it means we have a deal.

“No problem,” I say quickly, attempting to stop the fight still brewing in front of me. “Whatever you want.”

“I want triple the amount as an advance. Maximum exposure. And…” she pauses as her eyes flare, “No damn addendums to my contract.”

Say what?

I shake my head and hold up my hands, “Now, let’s be fair…”

“Fair!” She shouts, making me turn to look over my shoulder in fear someone will hear us arguing. But shit, she already told Grams that all we do is fight, so what the hell.

“You want fair,Brettly,” I give her a glare as I turn back around, an attempt to warn her not to use the name that I’ve always hated, but she continues. “Fair would be discussing something first with me before you answer for the both of us. Fair would be letting a client publish their own damn book without all your red tape,” I go to speak, to stop her rant, but she cuts me off.

“Fair! Would be not lying to that sweet old lady and leading her on thinking me and you,” she says as she gestures between the two of us, “have something between us…”

Don’t we, though?

Because, fuck, I feel it.

“…something she hopes is like the marriage she still dreams about five years after your grandfather’s passing. You want fair…”

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