Pretty as a Peach

by Sawyer Bennett

  “What’s it to you?” he asks belligerently. “What little girl is this? I know you ain’t got no young-uns.”

  “She’s the daughter of a friend of mine,” I grit out. “Now tell me how you’re going to rectify this.”

  Jimmy stares at me blankly for a moment, but then he shrugs in the most nonchalant of ways that has me itching to join my fist with his jaw. “I’ll have a talk with the boy.”

  I can tell by the tone of his voice he has no intention of doing that. I guarantee he won’t say a single thing to his son.

  “Just to make sure you impart the right information to your son,” I tell Jimmy in a deadly quiet voice. “You make sure he understands that the next time he lays a hand on Linnie McCulhane, I’m gonna come here and I will whip his father’s butt. For every black eye he gives her, his daddy’s going to get two. He bloodies her nose, Daddy’s going to get it twice as bad. Am I making myself clear?”

  Jimmy is a bully himself, but there’s no way he would ever try to go head to head with me. I once whipped his butt really bad in junior high, so he knows I’ve got the skills to back up what I’m saying. Jimmy swallows hard and gives an uncertain nod.

  I beam a brilliant smile his way. “Excellent,” I say with enthusiasm. “I think we have an understanding.”

  And with that, I turn on my heel and walk out of the shed. I wave goodbye to Mr. Goddard, who’s standing just outside the door, and jump back in my truck. I don’t think about heading back to Farrington Farms but rather decide to go back and check on the progress at the vineyards.

  Before I put my truck in drive, I shoot Darby a text to assure her Linnie is done being bullied by Caleb Rochelle.

  CHAPTER 17

  Darby

  My phone buzzes from within my purse, indicating a text message. It could be from anyone really, but I hope it’s from Colt. Before I can look, though, I want to get settled in with Linnie.

  I put my hand on my daughter’s shoulder and guide her through the tables in Central Café. After I got her tears dried a bit ago and assured her the black eye was barely noticeable, I offered to take her out for milkshakes for dinner. That always got a smile from her in the past, and today is no different.

  When we’d walked in, Muriel waved and called out from behind the counter, “Just sit anywhere. I’ll be right over.”

  Linnie hasn’t had the privilege of eating at Central Café, nor has she been able to meet many of the townsfolk since we spend so much time out on the farm. I know we’re guaranteed to run into an eclectic mix of people on any given trip into town, and I’m hoping that will also help get her mind off things.

  We choose a table that seats four in the very back corner of the restaurant that is bordered on one side by the windows that overlook the street. I help Linnie take off her windbreaker and I remove the light wool shawl I had thrown around me before we left the farm. When I sit down, I reach into my purse and pull out my phone.

  It is indeed a text from Colt. Caleb has been handled. He will not be bothering Linnie anymore.

  The relief that courses through me almost makes me laugh with giddiness. Instead, I shoot a quick text back. You didn’t draw actual blood on a child, did you?

  He sends me back an emoji that’s laughing with tears coming out of its eyes. He follows that with, Let’s just say his father and I have come to an understanding.

  I think a few moments on how to respond, but there aren’t any right words to express my gratitude. I merely write back, Thank you, Colt. It means the world to me that you did that.

  My pleasure.

  Nothing else comes and I realize I want more. So I text him, Linnie and I are eating an early dinner at Central Café. Join us if you’d like. My treat.

  His text back is prompt. Maybe I will.

  Smiling, I set my phone down so I’m not tempted to text him again and grab two of the menus that are sitting in the center of the table in a condiment holder. I only take one and open it up, giving it a quick perusal. I already know Linnie will order a strawberry milkshake, which is her favorite, although I’m going to see if I can talk her into something more substantial. While milkshakes for dinner are a great way to ease frustrations and pain, it’s not the ideal meal. Funny I’m being a mom by offering milkshakes for dinner to help my kid on a rough day, and I’m still being a mom by wishing I could get her to eat some leafy greens with it.

  Fat chance.

  “How about a burger and some fries to go with that milkshake?” I ask her.

  Linnie smiles, and my heart trips madly from that tiny gesture. On the best of days, Linnie’s smile is the best thing in the world. On her worst days, I feel like I’ve been handed the sun and the moon when I get one. Her tears just a little bit ago were breaking my heart so this smile is much needed.

  “Just French fries,” she says to me. “I like to dip them in the milkshake.”

  “That’s gross, baby.” I wrinkle my nose, but I’ll accept that a potato is at least a vegetable.

  Muriel shows up at our table with a pad and a pencil in her hand. She’s wearing her standard Central Café uniform, and I introduce her to my daughter. “Linnie, this is Miss Muriel. She owns this restaurant.”

  Linnie looks up and gives her a shy smile, followed by a little push of her glasses up her nose.

  Muriel clucks her tongue and shakes her head as she looks at Linnie. “Oh baby, that shiner looks like it smarts. I can’t believe that Caleb Rochelle did that to a girl. What a bully.”

  My mouth drops open in stunned surprise, and no words can even come out. Luckily, Linnie asks for me, “How did you know about that?”

  Muriel grins at my daughter. “Well, you see, my daughter Rebecca is married to Silas Goddard’s son, Silas Junior. Silas Senior was eavesdropping on Colt when he tore Caleb’s daddy a new one. My understanding is Colt promised to visit on Jimmy tenfold whatever his son bestowed on you, darlin’. I guarantee you that boy won’t be messing with you again.”

  I just continue to blink at Muriel, completely stunned she would know the circumstances of Colt’s talk with that little bully’s father just mere minutes after it happened.

  I will never underestimate the power of the gossip mill again. It truly is better than CNN on delivering the most up-to-date news the fastest.

  “You want a raw steak for that eye, honey?” Muriel asks.

  “Huh?” Linnie says as her eyes grow wide behind her glasses.

  Muriel circles her finger in the air and then points directly at Linnie’s black eye. “Raw steak. I’ve got a sirloin back there I’ll give your mama for cost. Put it against that black eye, and it’ll draw the bruise out faster than a whippoorwill’s butt in mosquito season.”

  “Huh?” Linnie asks again.

  I stifle a snicker and tell Muriel, “We’re good. I put some ice on it already.”

  Muriel shakes her head. “Not as good as raw steak, but to each his own. Now, you girls know what you’re going to have for dinner?”

  I nod and order the meatloaf special for myself. Linnie orders a strawberry milkshake and fries. As Muriel turns away to put our order in, I see Floyd walking in the front door of the restaurant. He looks all around and when his eyes land on me and lock, he purposely starts heading our way, which means he came in here looking for us.

  Floyd walks right up to our table. Without invitation or preamble, he pulls out one of the chairs and sets his bulky frame in it. Linnie has not had the pleasure of meeting Floyd yet, and she stares at him all agog.

  Floyd puts his meaty arms on the table and leans toward my daughter. He studies her face for a moment and says, “I heard what happened. Colt handled it with Jimmy Rochelle just fine, but had he not, you rest assured I would’ve had your back, little girl.”

  Linnie just turns to look at me, and I can see a million questions in her gaze. I smile and jerk my chin toward Floyd. “This is Floyd. He owns the hardware store next door.”

  Linnie doesn’t look at Floyd. It’s almost as if she’s terrifie
d to take her gaze from mine and address the next eccentric character she’s met here in the town of Whynot.

  “He’s a nice guy. He protects the town with a shotgun.”

  Linnie finally nods at me and turns a shy look toward Floyd. “I remember.”

  “Silas Goddard called me just now. He works out at Goddard Farms. Jimmy Rochelle was running his mouth about Colt coming out there. That’s how I heard what happened.”

  This concerns me as Colt made it sound like everything was settled without any further issues. “Running his mouth? Do you think everything’s okay?”

  Floyd scratches at his scruffy beard and nods. “It’s as right as rain, honey. Trust me, Jimmy Rochelle ain’t stupid enough to tangle with Colt. He just likes to hear himself talk.”

  “So why do you protect the town with a shotgun if the town already has a police department?” Linnie asks Floyd, and he turns his gaze to her.

  She seems to be completely over her discombobulation and is looking at him curiously. He smiles at her. At least I think it’s a smile, but it’s hard to tell under all that wiry gray beard that hangs down his chest. I do note his eyes crinkle a little at the corners.

  “Well, that’s a good question and one that I’ve been asked a lot. The short answer is… I love this town. Born and raised here. Never wanted to go anywhere else. I love all the people in it. And while I think we have a fine police force, they just can’t patrol every inch of this town every night. So I lend my services to the good people of Whynot. Plus, I really like shooting my shotgun. Since it’s illegal in the city limits, I feel extra important that they let me do that.”

  “They let you?” Linnie asks in awe.

  Floyd shrugs. “I haven’t been arrested yet.”

  “Can I patrol with you one night?” Linnie asks excitedly.

  “Of course,” Floyd says.

  At the same exact time, I say, “Absolutely not.”

  Both ignore me and lapse into a conversation about town patrols and shotguns. My attention is redirected to the door that swings open, and I watch as Colt walks in.

  Like Floyd, he lets his gaze roam around the restaurant until it locks with mine. His lips tip upward at the corners, and he saunters our way. My pulse goes bananas knowing this sweet, kind, and generous man just went and defended my daughter’s honor by threatening to kick that little bully’s dad’s butt.

  Now that is damn attractive.

  As Colt pulls out the last chair at our table, Muriel calls out to him, “You want the special?”

  “Yup,” he calls back.

  Muriel yells to Floyd. “What do you want?”

  “I’ll have the same. And bring me a sweet tea.”

  And just like that, we have two dinner companions and I couldn’t be happier.

  Colt is sitting to my right, and he leans toward me. His gaze cuts to Linnie briefly before settling back to me. “How is she?”

  I give him a smile. “She’s fine. We both are thanks to you handling that for us. Thank you again.”

  “It seriously was my pleasure, darlin’,” Colt murmurs in a low voice that sends tingles up my spine. His voice drops an octave lower, and he leans in just a little closer so only I can hear, “Maybe you’ll even give me a kiss one day in gratitude.”

  My voice is hoarse and raspy when I tell him, “I can probably accommodate that.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Colt

  “Glad to see you’re back in action,” I tell Pap as I take a sip of my draft beer. He’s the best player on our dart team, and his absence while he recovered from surgery was deeply felt.

  He steps up to the two-foot strip of silver duct tape that was pressed onto the scuffed wooden floor of Chesty’s. It’s placed at exactly seven feet, nine and a quarter inches from the board since we’re playing steel-tipped.

  I watch as he takes aim at the board. Pap has an unusual style. He holds his dart in front of him, not with the tip pointed at where’s aiming but rather he holds it at an angle… as if he’s holding a pen. Pap’s gaze finds his target and his hand is steady.

  With a mere flick of his wrist, the dart flies and hits exactly where he was aiming.

  A trip twenty.

  I grin, and the guys on the other team groan. Lowe records the sixty points on a chalkboard mounted on the wall near the throw line, and the twenties are closed for us. Cricket is our game of choice in this league.

  “We should just forfeit if this is how Pap’s shooting tonight,” one of our opponents grumbles.

  Pap lets loose his next dart. He almost hits a trip nineteen but only gets a single. This is rectified by his last dart, which hits the double nineteen, and just like that, our team has closed out two numbers and taken a huge lead.

  While someone on the opposite team steps up to the line for their turn, Pap joins Lowe, Floyd, and me at a small square table that holds our beers. We’re each sporting scarlet-colored t-shirts with the Chesty’s logo on the back done in gold. The four of us have represented Chesty’s in the Scuppernong county steel-tip dart league for six years now.

  We’ve been reigning champions all six years.

  From August through November, every Thursday night at seven, the four of us—with Trixie as an alternate in case one of us can’t make it—meet at a hosting bar. Tonight, we play at Chesty’s, but home field advantage isn’t needed. Pap’s the best player in the league, and it’s sort of a cake walk for us.

  “Jimmy Rochelle was in here the other night running his mouth about you,” Pap says offhandedly. I pulled a chair over for him to sit in, but he’s ignoring it.

  Stubborn old man.

  “Oh, yeah?” I ask with a smirk. “What did he say?”

  “Just stuff that would make you want to go kick his butt right now, so I won’t repeat it.”

  “He can talk crap all he wants,” I tell Pap with confidence. “As long as he keeps his little hellion kid in check around Linnie.”

  “You’re up, Colt,” one of the other players call out.

  Snatching my darts off the table, I step up to the line. I hold my dart tip pointed straight at my target. I tried Pap’s method and it never works for me.

  Trip seventeen… you’re mine.

  I pull my hand back, prepared to launch when Floyd says to me, “You told Darby you love her yet?”

  My entire body jerks as my dart flies, not over Darby’s name, but from the word “love” that Floyd so casually tosses out. My dart veers left and sticks in the wood-paneled wall, causing the players on the other team to howl with laughter.

  Turning, I see Pap and Lowe snickering at me, but Floyd merely looks at me expectantly for my answer.

  “No,” I growl with condescension. “I haven’t told her I love her, Floyd.”

  Geez… how thick can Floyd actually be? I mean, I knew he had a few screws loose, but…

  I turn back to face the dartboard and take aim at the trip seventeen again. This is my number, and I almost always get a triple.

  Aim is taken and just before I let it loose, Floyd asks, “Well, why not? You shouldn’t keep those things inside.”

  Once again, my dart sticks in the wall where it vibrates for a moment before going still.

  The other team roars with laughter, and I turn a glare upon them. It doesn’t have the intended effect, and they just laugh harder.

  Spinning toward Floyd, I take three steps to come toe to toe with him. “Floyd. I don’t love Darby so that’s why I haven’t told her. I’ve only known her a couple of weeks.”

  “Four and a half,” he replies.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Four and a half weeks,” Floyd clarifies. “You’ve known her four and a half weeks.”

  Yes, I know that’s how long I’ve known her. I remember the exact day I met her in Laken’s clinic. Why Floyd knows that date is both weird and right at the same time, but that’s beside the point.

  “I haven’t even kissed her yet, Floyd.” Talk about putting the cart before the horse.

 
“Which is plain stupid if you ask me,” Floyd replies swiftly.

  Lowe and Pap nod their heads in agreement, and I’m surprised neither throw their hands up and say something like, “Preach it, Floyd.”

  “A woman that looks like Darby,” Pap intones because he’s not going to ever sit quiet, “you should be kissing her.”

  “She’s married,” I mutter.

  “Not for much longer,” Floyd says knowingly, as if he’s got the inside track into Darby’s divorce proceedings. And knowing him, he probably does somehow. “Besides, she’s been separated long enough to do some kissing. I’m beginning to wonder if you even like her at all.”

  “I like her,” I blurt out to Floyd, disregarding Pap and Lowe’s second round of snickers.

  “Hey, Colt,” one of the other players calls out. “Can you leave your hen party for just a few minutes and come shoot?”

  I spin away from Floyd, Pap, and Lowe, and take three steps back to the line. I give quick aim, don’t think too hard about any of it, and let my dart fly.

  I’m turning my back on it just as soon as I see it stick the trip seventeen.

  Walking back up to my hen party, because that’s exactly what this has turned into, I lower my voice a bit. Lowe, Pap, and Floyd lean in to listen. “Look… I like Darby a lot. I mean, like more than anyone else I’ve dated. And that’s just the thing… we haven’t really dated. Dinner out once and I’m taking her and Linnie to the fair on Saturday, but that hardly makes for kissing circumstances.”

  “You’re looking at it wrong,” Floyd insists with a wag of his finger in my face. “She gave up a grant for you. You battled a bully for her daughter. You two are more than ready for some kissing.”

  “I’d get on it if I were you,” Pap throws in.

  Lowe nods. “Yup.”

  A long, low growl rumbles in my chest, and it’s born of both frustration and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for Darby. “She’s not ready yet. I’m taking it slow because Darby needs to go slow.”

  “She told you this?” Floyd asks suspiciously.