The One Who Loves You (Tickled Pink #1)(34)

Pebbles barks in her carrier like she, too, is mildly astonished that anyone would think I didn’t want to live up to my legacy when I’m the one who declared it to be my legacy practically as the first words I ever spoke as a toddler.

I jerk my head around, trying to peer through the darkness to make sure we’re not where I think we are. “Oh my God, where did that come from?”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? It’s all over under everything you’re saying.”

“It is not. I do. I want to run the company. I think. I’ve always—this damn town. It’s making me feel—”

“Not yourself?”

There’s a wry irony in my sister’s tone that says she knows.

She feels it too.

“I want to go home.” My mouth says the words, but something deeper is asking, Do you? Do you really?

“I want to go to the Seychelles and Paris and French Polynesia.”

“Didn’t you just get back from Paris?”

A weird vibe hangs in the air for a pause, but it’s gone so quick with Tavi’s laugh that I must’ve imagined it. “There’s never enough time in Paris.”

I try to steer us around to go the other way. “What do you even eat there? Aren’t the pastries slathered with butter? And there’s cheese on every corner. It’s like here, except—”

“Except it’s Paris.” She sighs. “Salads are universal, Phoebe. And Parisian salads are delicious.”

Parisian salads? I blink, and then I’m doubled over laughing.

“What?” she asks. “Have you ever had a salad in Paris? They’re so fresh and exquisite and different and . . . and . . . delicious!”

I can’t talk. I’m laughing so hard I can’t even force out a mocking I go to Paris for the salads.

She sighs while more goats bleat nearby. “Fine. Laugh away, Ms. I Eat Fried Cheese Curds Because a Handsome Lumberjack Offered Them to Me.”

And now I’m laughing while a delicious shiver—the Parisian salad kind of delicious, obviously—snakes down my back.

I’d argue he’s not handsome, that you can’t even see half of his face for his beard, except his eyes—oh, his eyes.

They’re expressive and layered and exactly what Lake Carezza in Italy would look like if it had gold nuggets sprinkled throughout its green depths. They’re like—they’re like priceless dragon eggs.

And his body—if he takes half as much care with a female body as he’s clearly taken with sculpting his own physique, I would happily let Teague Miller do whatever he wanted with his tongue.

Including verbally spar with me first.

Okay.

Not laughing anymore. “He’s a pain in the ass.”

“Not so much that you weren’t willing to spend the night at his house last night.”

I try to hush her, because if he’s home, he might overhear us. “I was negotiating a truce since he seems to enjoy dunking me in lakes so much.”

“That’s it? You spent the night just to negotiate a truce to keep yourself from hitting the Tickled Pink Papers again? So, like, you wouldn’t care if I asked him out?”

My shoulders hitch, and I clamp my mouth shut to keep from hissing at her.

Hissing.

Like a demonic snake or something.

What is wrong with me? “We need to get out of this town if that’s what you’re thinking of asking out.” As if leaving Tickled Pink would help. I have no job to go back to since Gigi told the board about my educational deficits. At least, not until I complete my four classes this summer and fall.

I could fight Gigi’s requirements, but not while she’s wearing me out just trying to keep up here.

“There’s no leaving, Phoebe. We’re stuck, unless we don’t want to be Lightlys anymore. Why are you shoving me?”

“Because—”

“Just can’t stay away, can you, Ms. Lightly?” Teague Miller’s deep voice says behind us.

Tavi makes a startled noise, and then she’s gone.

Poof.

One minute, I’m guiding her to turn around, and the next, she’s not there.

But I can hear her laughing somewhere below me. “Oh, wow, that’s embarrassing.”

There’s movement rustling in the dark, then a clean, lemony pine scent, and suddenly two bodies are close. “Up you go,” Teague says. “Break anything?”

Pebbles barks.

Teague makes a noise.

And Tavi giggles again. “Thank you so much. Oh my God, I can’t believe I just tripped on air. Wow. You are really strong.”

“Quit flirting with him.”

Did I just snap that?

Wonderful.

Now I sound like a jealous harpy.

“I’m not going to catch the small-towns, Phoebe,” Tavi says. “And it’s only polite to thank gentlemen who pick you up off the ground when their presence makes you swoon.”

Teague makes another noise. My blood pressure shoots so high I can no longer tell if those are actual stars or if I’m about to pass out.

Be the better person, Phoebe. Be the better person.

No, screw that. “Swoon? What is this, a historical-movie set?”

Tavi ignores me. “You have goats! Do they have names? I love goats. I did goat yoga on Vancouver Island once last year, and it was, like, the best yoga I’ve ever done in my life.”