"About what? I need you to be more specific."
She waved a hand at the fire truck in front of us. "About this."
"Okay." I ran my fingers through my beard as I watched several firefighters pile into the truck. "What's going on here?"
She gave a pathetic little shrug that squeezed my heart. "Oh, you know. Just a small fire in the kitchen."
"Please tell me it wasn't the crockpot."
"Nope." Another shrug and I ached. "The toaster oven."
I glanced to the driveway again and the box abandoned there. It was about the right size for a countertop oven.
"I was making some toast for lunch and—"
"What do you mean, you were making toast for lunch? That's not lunch."
She turned her tearstained face to me, her expression as fierce as ever. "Toast is a perfectly appropriate lunch."
"It's…it's just bread, Jas."
She gave me a look that said I knew nothing. Not a single thing in the whole world. "I take my toast very seriously. It's my favorite thing to eat, and fancy toast can be—"
"Fancy toast? What the fuck is fancy toast?"
She planted her hands on the grass behind her and leaned back, her face upturned to the late September sun. "Not really in the mood to go another round with you on toast today. I don't have a lot of favorite things but toast is one of them and I'm not defending it to you right now."
The second fire truck pulled away.
"Come on." I pushed to my feet and held out a hand to her. "Up you go."
She studied my hand for a beat before accepting. "Thank you."
I dragged a glance over her clothes. "Is it safe inside?"
"Yeah, it wasn't too bad. Just a small fireball in the toaster. Everything except my lunch is salvageable."
"Then go change into something else. Like those yoga pants girls like you wear."
"Yoga pants? That girls likemewear?"
I crossed my arms. "You know what I mean. You, my sister, my mom, my future sister-in-law, women everywhere."
"And why do I need yoga pants specifically?"
"Because I have to check on some trees and you're coming with me. Do you have normal shoes?"
"Normal shoes," she repeated under her breath. "Wow."
"You can't wear those"—I motioned toward her pretty heels—"in the woods."
She gave me a long, measured look. "So, I need the yoga pants that girls like me wear and normal shoes. Because we're going to see some trees."
I jabbed a finger toward her front door, still standing open. "Stop repeating me and get dressed. You can be outraged when we hit the road."
Jasper absently smoothed her hands down her skirt. "The kitchen is going to be a mess. I should deal with that."
"It will be a mess later." Then, because I couldn't help it, not really, I added, "Come on now, Peach. Let's get you out of here for a bit. You need a break."
