Chapter Twenty-Eight
“I STILL DON’T get why you’re giving her another chance, man,” Pete grumbled, breaking the tense silence that had settled between them. “Rachel broke your heart when she left town after high school, Noah. Who’s to say she won’t do it again?”
His friend’s premium package truck bounced along the dusty country road, kicking up clouds of dirt in its wake.
Pete gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white as he navigated the familiar path to the Johnson family farm.
With the scowl etched across Pete’s face, Noah regretted accepting the ride.
He’d lost count of how many times Pete had attempted this conversation since Rachel’s return to Service. Noah sighed, his patience worn thin.
“People change, Pete. We were just kids. Besides, maybe she was right not to marry me at eighteen. We were selfish kids. Back then, we were bent on making our way—me, here in Service—her, out in the world. She built a life for herself. I’m proud of her.”
“You still want to be here. Tag team, forever.” Pete chuckled, thumping his fist against his chest. “As far as Rachel making her own way in the world, more like she couldn’t wait to ditch this town and leave you in the dust. She’s educated, with her own money, so what does she need you for?”
“Shut up,” Noah snapped, his temper flaring. “I got money. Why shouldn’t she have her own? Rachel’s smart, confident, and capable. Not your kind of woman.”
“You got that right. No chick is going to outearn me. I wear the pants in my relationship.”
“What relationship?” Noah shot back, unbelieving of this ass-backward conversation on manhood. “You can’t keep a woman.”
“Because they’re too independent. Jobs and money make them worse.”
Pete could be one-sided in his thinking.
Rachel didn’t need Noah’s paycheck or his house.
She could bankroll her own life. Which meant she wanted him, rather than needed him, and that suited Noah just fine.
Rachel wanted a partner. Noah would meet her needs, as little or as much as she wanted of him.
He’d defended Rachel countless times over the past decades, but lately, Pete’s criticism had become relentless.
He didn’t want to lose Pete or Rachel. But with Pete’s behavior, he felt as if his friend was pushing him to choose.
“Right… a woman not wanting you is her fault. Whatever, Pete,” Noah huffed. “But I’m warning you, back off of Rachel. She’s giving me another shot. I’m taking it.”
Pete fell silent, but Noah could feel the tension radiating off him.
The next bend in the county road tugged them forward, closer to where he wanted to be, with Rachel.
As they rounded a hairpin turn, the Johnson family farm came into view.
The sight of the freshly painted red barn and the sprawling white farmhouse brought a smile to Noah’s face, dialing back unpleasantness in exchange for memories of sum mers spent stealing kisses behind the hay bales.
There stood Rachel, one hand holding the porch railing, her wild red hair gleaming in the afternoon sun.
She watched as the truck pulled up, a frown marring her face.
When she saw him in the passenger seat, she smiled bright enough to rival the clear blue sky above.
Noah’s heart skipped a beat, just like it had when they were teenagers.
As they climbed out of the truck, ClamClam darted across the yard. The feline took one look at Pete and let out a glass-cracking “MRRRRAAAAAAAAAAOOOOWWWWWWWW!” followed by a menacing hiss before scurrying away.
“Well, that’s a warm welcome,” Pete muttered.
Rachel laughed, the sound like music to Noah’s ears. “Don’t take it personally. She’s not a fan of sugar cookies, either.”
Before Pete could respond, Ricky, the rooster, strutted around the corner of the house. His beady eyes locked onto Pete, and without warning, he charged.
“Paaa caww.”
Pete released a startled yelp as the bird pecked at his legs, driving him backward.
“No, Ricky, no!” Rachel called out, but it was too late. The rooster lunged upward, his beak connecting with Pete’s shin.
“Ow! Your angry bird deserves a cleaver for this.” Pete stumbled back, rubbing his shin as Rachel rushed forward to shoo the rooster away.
Noah couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene, earning him a glare from his best friend. “Sorry, man. Ricky’s protective of Rachel, too.”
Rachel turned to Pete, her eyes wide with concern. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Let me grab an ice pack from the house.”
As Rachel hurried inside, Noah noticed how Pete followed her with his eyes, his gaze hardening. There was something in his friend’s expression that he couldn’t quite place—a mixture of anger and objection that triggered unease in Noah.
“Don’t give her grief about a scratch. Understand?” Noah asked, keeping his voice low.
Pete plastered on a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yada, yada. I’ll protect her feelings as soon as I stop bleeding because of her bird.”
“Ricky was here before Rachel, Pete.”
“Nothing like being attacked by the local wildlife in your own town,” he muttered. “The sooner she’s away from Service, the better.”
“Our town. Rachel included,” Noah grumbled, his voice edged with a protective instinct he didn’t realize had a menacing quality till now. “Let her alone.”
They stood there in silence, two men who used to share beers and bad jokes, now staring across a chasm neither wanted to admit was real. Rachel returned with a bag of frozen corn wrapped in a dish towel.
“Here you go,” she said, handing it to Pete. “This should help with the swelling. Be sure to cleanse the skin well with warm, soapy water.”
“You a doctor now?” Pete grumbled, pressing the makeshift ice pack to his shin.
“Nope. But, if we had a clinic, I’d tell you to have them take a look if the redness spreads, there’s drainage, or you develop a fever.”
“Yada, yada,” Pete interrupted. “I know the drill. And just because you came home thinking we need a clinic, doesn’t mean those of us who stayed don’t know what’s best for Service.”
Noah had known Pete since they were kids, and he’d never seen him behave this way. It was almost as if he had a personal vendetta against Rachel, even with her reasonable first aid advice. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something more fueled the open hostility.
“Rachel isn’t wrong, Pete. Folks around here could benefit from having schools, healthcare, and gas closer to home.”
“We don’t need outsiders telling us what to do, Noah. So, Rachel,” Pete said, his tone deceptively casual, “you still on your two-week countdown? I mean, surely a woman of the world will grow bored with everything”—Pete gazed in Noah’s direction—“in a small town like Service.”
Noah stiffened. Pete’s cheap shot took aim at him as well as Rachel. Her smile faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered.
“Actually, I’ve missed this place more than I realized. Experiencing the world through different cultures and countries expands your perspective on what’s really important in life. It’s a journey I’d cosign for every person who’s able”—she looked at Noah—“but there’s no place like home.”
Noah wrapped an arm around Rachel’s waist, pulling her close. “And I, for one, couldn’t be happier about it.”
As Rachel leaned into him, Noah saw something flash in Pete’s eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a forced smile. It was enough for Noah to realize Pete was jealous. Of Rachel? Of Noah’s happiness? Both?
“Well, isn’t that sweet?” Pete said, his words laced with an undercurrent of cynicism. “I guess true love conquers all, huh?”
Noah opened his mouth to respond, but Rachel beat him to it. “For us, it does. Unless you think the farmer’s daughter is beneath Service’s favorite hometown hero?”
Now, that was a specific kind of insult. For a split second, panic flashed across Pete’s face. He quickly composed himself, shaking his head.
“Not at all. I’m just looking out for my best friend. Can’t be too careful these days, with would-be saviors trying to change our town, right?”
Wow, that statement didn’t reflect the town Noah knew better than his own mind.
As Rachel and Pete engaged in a tense standoff, Noah found himself caught in the middle, torn between his loyalty to a friend he’d known all his life and his distrust of a man who openly antagonized the woman he loved, at every opportunity.
It didn’t make sense, but Noah couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was more to Pete’s hostility than their band of brotherhood.
“Well, it’s a good thing Rachel’s as homegrown as you and me.”
“There’s that,” his friend chuckled.
Noah nodded, disliking what he’d witnessed. “Best be on your way, Pete. We’ll talk later.”
Pete tipped his hat. “Sure thing, partner. Rachel, you look different today. Did you change your makeup?”
Rachel’s face paled at the dig about her freckles. The truck’s engine revved, and Pete disappeared into the night.
“Six.” Noah looked over his shoulder as his best friend drove away, angered by the mean-spirited comment. “Pete’s being a jerk. If you weren’t here, I’d drag him to the falls and dunk him headfirst.”
“That I’d pay to see.” Rachel let out a brief, humorless laugh.
Noah brushed his thumb over her smooth cheek, the freckles smiling back at him. “You okay?”
Rachel shrugged, her brows pinched, an expression he didn’t care to see on her pretty face.
“Oh, he reminded me of something I already knew.”
That was all she said. Noah decided against pressing the issue. Admittedly, he hated seeing Pete’s open animosity toward the woman who owned his heart.