I don’t tell her that if she moves back to Rush Creek, she’ll get the long visits back. I haven’t spent much time recently at Connor’s parents’ house, but I know those visits still happen. But I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to talk her into moving here.

I know she wouldn’t.

It’s not in the plan… and I would never ask her to give up the plan for me.

Rachel’s manners would totally win my mom’s approval. She tries to insist I should let her set the table, but I tell her I’ve got it. When it’s time to sit, I pull out her chair for her and scooch it back in again.

She smiles up at me. “I know I’m not supposed to like that.”

“Like what?” I sit across from her.

“You pulling out my chair for me. Pushing it in. I’m supposed to be strong and self-sufficient and do it for myself. But don’t stop.”

I laugh. “You got it.”

Later tonight, I decide, I’m going to get her to say that in another context entirely. Don’t stop.

We dig in.

“Omigod this is so good!” She’s quiet for a minute. Then she says, “Can I just say, there is something about a guy who can catch and cook his own food?”

I grin. “Wait till we go camping and I catch fish in the woods with a handmade rod, roast them over an open fire, and feed you.”

She puts her hand over her heart. “Shirtless?”

I chuckle. “Super impractical with the bugs and the temp, but if it works for you, sure.”

“It would work for me.”

“I didn’t think you liked camping.” I remember from high school, her turning her nose up at it when Connor and I went.

Rachel grins. “I mean, what you described is more like erotic art than camping.”

I’m smiling so hard it hurts my face. I don’t think that has ever happened to me. “Rachel.”

“Mmm?” She has just put another giant bite of trout with black butter in her mouth, and is making a face not so different from the one she made the other day next to my motorcycle. Makes it hard to eat. Pun intended.

“I like you so damn much.”

Her gaze jumps to my face, startled. And alarmed? For a second, my heart plummets.

Then she smiles, the sweetest Rachel smile I’ve ever seen. “I like you, too, Brody Wilder,” she says. “So damn much.”

30

Brody

“So,” I say, when we’ve wiped out dinner. “What’s for dessert?”

“Let me do the dishes first.”

“Nope. I’m doing the dishes.”

“You cooked! I do the dishes!”

“Nope.”

I get up, cross to the sink and start washing.