Free The Peach Keeper by Sarah Addison Allen Page A

me,” he said. “There’s something I want to show you.”
    Okay, that got her attention, but then, he probably assumed that it would. “I can’t. I’m working,” she said. To prove her point, she picked up a box of paper cups and inched past him through the doorway.
    “It won’t take long,” he said, following her across the store to the coffee bar. “We found something on theproperty today, and maybe you can help us figure out who it belonged to.”
    “I doubt it. I don’t know anything about that house,” she said. And it was true, unfortunately. Her grandmother had never talked about her life there. She handed the cups to Rachel, who was giving her a very juvenile you’re-talking-to-a-boy look. She turned around and found Colin closer than she’d expected. “What did you find?”
    He leaned forward, tall and easy, and smiled down on her. “Come with me and find out,” he said seductively. He smelled intriguing, different from the sandalwood and patchouli she was used to—the National Street set was notoriously bohemian. Colin’s scent was sharp and fresh, both foreign and oddly familiar. Green, expensive.
    She took a step back. “I can’t.”
    “Are you saying you’re not curious at all?”
    “Oh, she’s curious,” Rachel said.
    Willa cut her eyes at her.
    “Then come with me,” Colin said. “It won’t take long.”
    It was too much to resist. She’d been wanting to see it for over a year, and now she had the perfect excuse, one that didn’t involve evening dresses, small talk, or Paxton Osgood. It did, however, involve Colin Osgood, his confusing motives, and some definite sexual tension. But he would be leaving in a month, so it wasn’t as if she would have to hide from him forever. “Rachel, hold down the fort,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
    “Take your time,” Rachel said with a knowing smile.“I’m forming some theories about cappuccino with one raw sugar.”
    Yes, Willa just bet she was.
    “She remembered my order,” Colin said as he stepped ahead of Willa and opened the door for her.
    “She does that. I’ll follow you in my Jeep,” she said as she started to turn to where she’d parked farther down the sidewalk.
    He grabbed her elbow. “That’s okay. I’ll drive us.” He pointed to the big black Mercedes in front of them. He clicked the key fob he was holding, and the lights flashed and the doors unlocked. She recognized this car. It was hard to miss. It belonged to his father.
    He stepped off the curb and opened the car door for her. She sighed, deciding that arguing would only take more time, and got in. She was almost swallowed by the huge leather seats. Once Colin got behind the big wheel—there was something seriously overcompensating about this car—he put on his aviators and backed out. He smoothly maneuvered the car through the traffic on National Street, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his knee.
    After several minutes of silence, she turned to him and said, “Why are you going to be here a whole month?”
    The side of his mouth lifted at her insinuation that it felt like forever. “I took some time off to help Paxton with the Mad am. And to attend the gala.”
    “Where do you live now?”
    “New York is my home base. But I travel a lot.”
    Just then they turned the corner to the steep drivewayup to the Madam, and she stopped trying to make small talk. She’d never been beyond this point. She turned her attention away from Colin and watched the house as it got closer. Giddiness felt like her skin, her whole self, was stretching into a smile. This is going to be something significant , she thought. No ghosts. This is going to feel like coming home .
    When he stopped the car in the luggage drop-off lane in front of the house, she couldn’t wait to get out. Something was off, though. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The wind blew in a sharp gust past her, sounding like voices in her ears. She turned in the direction of