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“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said, setting the bags down on the end of the picnic table. “Dolly sent enough potato salad and pie to feed the whole damn town, so I hope everybody’s hungry.”

“Always room for more,” Cash said, grinning as he peeked into one of the bags. “Ooh, is this her peach cobbler?”

“Don’t touch it till after dinner,” I warned. “She’ll know if it’s been opened early. I swear that woman’s got ears all over this town.”

That got a laugh out of everybody, even Rhett, who’d gone a little quieter but didn’t look near as tense as he had walking up the drive. Marcus glanced over from the smoker, giving us both a nod.

“Glad you two came,” he said. “Beer’s in the cooler if you want one. Xavier made sure we got the good stuff instead of whatever I usually buy.”

“Some people don’t want to drink trough water,” Xavier said, swatting at him with the corner of his apron. “There’s a difference between craft beers and corner store ditchwater.”

“Sure there is.”

I grabbed a couple beers out of the cooler and handed one to Rhett, who took it with a small, grateful smile, his fingers brushing mine for just a second longer than they needed to. Nobody around that yard so much as blinked at it, and I watched something in his shoulders finally start to loosen, like he’d been bracing for a reaction that just wasn’t coming. I tried to remember that this was hard for him, that he wasn’t used to this. But I just wanted him to be comfortable instead of always bracing for the worst.

We settled in around the picnic table while Marcus fussed over the smoker, and Xavier plopped down across from me, tucking one bare foot up under himself like he’d known us for years instead of five minutes.

“So,” he said, propping his chin on his hands and looking between me and Rhett with open curiosity. “Marcus tells me one of you got a job workin’ for him and the other one’s out fixin’ up the church. Which is which?”

“That’s me,” Rhett said, taking a pull from his beer. “Sheriff’s got me runnin’ around and helpin’ organize the fair. West’s the one doin’ the church work.”

“Just fixin’ pews and patchin’ roofs,” I said. “Ain’t exactly holy work, but Mike don’t seem to mind.”

“Mike wouldn’t mind if you painted the whole church purple, long as you did it instead of him,” Cash said, and Mike swatted at his arm without even looking up from the pitcher of tea he was pouring. “He just likes to talk.”

“That is not true,” Mike said. “I do things besides talk.”

Xavier laughed, a bright, easy sound, and leaned toward Rhett like he was settling in for gossip. “Okay, but for real, how are you finding it? Working for Marcus, I mean. He’s sweet and all, but that man does not know how to relax. I’ve been trying to get him to take one day off before this fair eats him alive or I kill him, whichever comes first.”

“He’s been good to me,” Rhett said, and I caught the careful way he said it, like he was still testing how much he trusted these people. “Fair paperwork’s a nightmare though. And callin’ out to other precincts is a pain in the ass.”

“Everything about that fair is a nightmare,” Marcus called over from the smoker, not even turning around. “Ten thousand people and a bathroom situation I still ain’t figured out.”

“You say that every year,” Mike said.

“Every year it’s true. There ain’t enough porta-potties in this state to outfit that fair.”

Xavier rolled his eyes fondly and took a sip of his beer. “You’ll get used to him,” he told Rhett. “He acts like the world’s ending, but he always pulls it off somehow. He’s very steady under pressure. It’s disgustingly attractive, honestly.”

“Xavier,” Marcus said, a warning in his voice that didn’t have any real heat behind it.

“What? I’m complimenting you.”

“You’re embarrassin’ me in front of my new hire.”

“He’s not embarrassed,” Xavier stage-whispered to Rhett. “He just likes to pretend he doesn’t enjoy the attention. But I know he does because the back of his neck is turning red. It always does that when he likes something.”

I watched Rhett’s mouth twitch, fighting a real smile now, and something in my chest eased up watching it happen. He glanced at me like he wanted to make sure I’d seen it too, and I gave him a small nod, letting him know I had.

Cash leaned back on the bench, stretching his arm along the table behind Mike. “First cookout’s always the hardest,” he said, looking at Rhett with something that felt like real understanding instead of pity. “I about talked myself out of comin’ to the first one Mike dragged me to. Sat in my truck for twenty minutes before I could make myself walk up.”

“Really?” Rhett asked.

“Yep. Thought everybody was gonna take one look at me and know every bad thing I’ve ever done.” Cash shrugged, easy as anything now, like that fear belonged to somebody else entirely. “Turns out most folks are too busy worryin’ about their own selves to spend much time judgin’ you.”

“That, and we just wanted to feed you,” Mike added, bumping his shoulder against Cash’s. “This man looked like he hadn’t eaten a home cooked meal in a year.”

“I probably hadn’t.”