Chapter 1

Robert “Peach” Barclay clenched his fist as the plane he was on wobbled to the right. He glanced out the window, seeing what he swore looked like a tornado. He hated flying commercial, but he was going home. Atlanta. The Big Peach.

He chuckled. His nickname was a combination of his looks and being from Georgia. The guys were good-natured about him looking so young. Sure, there were jokes, but his team was good. He knew his looks attracted women of all sorts and ages, but he was tired of playing the games.

He’d recently told Andy he would never get married, never settle down, never in his life get attached, but with every guy on his team finding the one woman who seemed to be more than amazing, he couldn’t help but be jealous. All he ever found as far as relationships turned hollow in weeks. No woman ever felt special, certainly not like the guys described.

The plane touched down hard, feeling more like they’d landed on the moving deck of a carrier than solid terra firma. Must be a former Navy pilot. He didn’t jump up and stand in the aisle. Instead, he left that to others who were eager to get off the plane and see loved ones or race off to some job somewhere. All Peach had was an empty house to go to.

He didn’t want to think about the accident that had taken his parents. What in the world were they doing in Colombia? When he’d received the call, he’d thought for sure it was a mistake. His parents hadn’t told him they were leaving the country. Not that they had to tell him everything. Heck, he should have called them more often. They deserved so much more than he gave.

After everyone around him was up and off the plane, he stood and glanced behind him, seeing that some guy was having issues getting himself together, blocking the aisle of the plane so no one behind him could get off. Peach stepped out and grabbed his bag from the overhead bin before heading to the front of the plane.

The pilot was standing near the cockpit and flashed a huge smile. “Thank you for your service, Navy.”

Peach nodded and smiled, stuffing down the pain of loss. “Thank you for the flight. Have a good day.”

The pilot nodded as Peach turned to leave the aircraft. Maybe he should have bought a black rollerboard suitcase like almost everyone else was using, but the trip was so last minute he'd packed his sea bag and left before even saying goodbye to his buddies. He'd texted before the plane had taken off, but they hadn't known he was leaving. He felt disconnected since all of them had found their other halves. It wasn't their fault. He didn't want to settle down, and they did.

As he turned on his phone, the messages and voicemails started coming in. The guys were the best. They had sent so many messages of love and support. His throat closed with emotions, almost overwhelming him. He shoved his phone into his pocket and headed out to the car rental booth. He would answer the texts later.

The line wasn't too long, and he had the car in less than twenty minutes. It wasn’t anything special, more functional. There was little he would take home, so he didn’t need a truck or van.

When he was about ten minutes away from the airport, his phone rang. Luckily, he'd set Bluetooth up in the car.

“Hello,” Peach said when he answered.

“Hey, how are you?” Wild asked.

“I’m dealing.”

“You could have called before you took off last night.”

“I figured it was best to head out and get this taken care of. I need to clean out a few things before I turn the house over to a realtor.”

“Do you want me to come out there?”

Wild’s question made his breath catch. Yes! “No, man. I’m good. This won’t take long, and I’ll be home before you know it.”

Wild was quiet for a moment as Peach sped up and passed a slow-moving car. He had a few miles before he had to take the exit that would lead him to his parents’ place. Too many years had passed since he’d driven this path.

“You don’t sound good. If you need something, please call. Don’t forget we love you, and we're here for you."

Peach’s throat did that funny thing again, and he swallowed. His friends were the best. They knew to look after him, to be there for him when he needed help.

“I appreciate all of you. I’ll update the group when I get to their house. Thank you.”

“We know people in Georgia. Don’t do this all on your own. ”

"I won't." The call ended, and Peach focused on driving instead of thinking about Wild’s call. He couldn’t focus on his feelings with the brightness of emotions flowing through him.

It took another hour to get to his parents’ property. They had a about ten acres that had been in the country when he’d been young but now had housing communities so close they might see him if he walked around naked inside the house. Back in grade school, he almost never heard cars on the road in front of the house. Now it was a nearly constant flow of sports cars, SUVs, and soccer vans.

He hadn't been back in a while and hadn't known about the growth. When he saw his parents, they'd fly out to see him. Sometimes, they met in other cities and toured together. When he'd been stationed overseas, they flew to Germany and spent three weeks driving around Europe together.

Peach cut the engine of his car and stared at the house, noticing the overgrown grass with more than a few weeds. The bushes needed help, too. Though his doors and windows were closed, he could hear some idiot racing by on the now four-lane street, blasting awful music that caused the plastic on the car to vibrate. He rolled his eyes, thinking he was glad he didn’t live in this area.

First on his agenda was the lawn. Maybe he would hire someone, or he guessed he could cut it, but would he have time? He opened the door to the car and stepped out, wincing as something made a high-pitched squeak, cutting through him like a knife through butter. That would be second in the line of things that needed to be fixed.

He marched around to the back of the property, grumbling about the long grass and the overgrown bushes. He glanced up and noticed that the limbs of one tree were touching the shingles. Then he saw the chipping paint on the shutters. Guilt filled him. He should have come back and made sure everything was okay with his parents.

As he rounded the corner into the backyard, he spied the offensive door swinging in the wind. The sound was louder, sending stabbing pain through his skull. He stalked over, not really looking where he was going. As he reached for the door, he looked down and had to jump back. He'd made a stupid mistake. Though housing communities surrounded the area, choking out the peace, this land still belonged to the wild.

Peach backed up, letting the snake he’d disturbed slither away. Had his parents even been here recently? It seemed like a lot of things were wrong. He fully well knew he should have called or contacted them. What had been going on in their lives that his father would have let everything go?

Carefully, Peach made his way over to the shed and secured the door. He would look in the shed later, or maybe he would hire someone to clean it out. The snake had turned him off. On missions in jungles or deserts, he could deal with wild animals, but here, it felt different. This house was a place he'd felt safe, protected from the dangers of the world. But now he didn’t know what to think about it. The calming effect of the house was gone with his mother. Maybe it had never been the house, but the home his mother had made.

Something weird twisted through him and made him think he'd been doing dating all wrong. No question, he liked wild women who didn't see a problem with having sex, maybe even before he knew their name. Thoughts of his buddies and their women surfaced, and he pushed it away. He wouldn't get tied down. He didn't want someone asking about his deep thoughts or making him check-in. No one needed to know him that well .

After finishing his trek around the property, he opened the garage door, shined a flashlight in, and determined there were no snakes in this space. With the flashlight off, he stepped into the space and let his eyes adjust.

The area was clean, which surprised him after seeing how bad the yard looked. What had his parents really been doing? When he’d received word that they’d passed away in Soledad, Colombia, he’d been shocked. Why had his parents even been to Colombia? They weren’t international travelers by nature. His dad preferred staying in the USA and had said so on multiple occasions. So why had they died in Colombia?

He wanted to go over and figure out what had happened, but someone from the embassy in Bogotá had looked into their death and told him it looked like an accident. It was hard for him to imagine them being in an accident that would kill them. Especially one overseas.

Peach stepped out from the garage and turned to look at the house, noticing one of the curtains moving. The hair on the back of his neck rose. Was someone in the house?

He hadn’t flown with any weapons because he’d decided to fly out at the last minute. His father had weapons inside, but he was outside. And someone or something was inside where the guns were located.

Peach moved closer to the back porch, wondering if he was making a mistake. He should go back to his rental car and call the sheriff’s office. Or he could take the easy way out and just leave and call a realtor to deal with everything. But he wasn’t into doing things the easy way.

He needed answers and believed his best bet in finding them was to look inside the house.

Peach moved close to the back door and stood silently, listening for any movement inside. There wasn't any. His heart picked up speed as he waited, trying to figure out if he'd seen something at the window or if his mind had been playing tricks on him.

“Get it together,” Peach said to himself as he fisted the key in his pocket and moved to unlock the door.

He stuffed the key in the lock and yelped as the doorknob was ripped from his hands as the door flew open.

“Who are you?” a tall woman with brown hair and sharp eyes asked. She wore a pair of sweats and a bulky sweatshirt over what looked to be a t-shirt. He couldn’t tell exactly.

“Who are you?” Peach demanded.

“I asked first. You’re breaking into my house.”

"Oh hell, you're inside my parents' house. This isn’t your house. You gotta go.”

Her eyes narrowed, and her lips thinned. "Liar."

Peach huffed out a breath, anger swirling deep. He wanted to reach in and pull her out. She was tall but thin. Her face looked gaunt, not like she was a drug addict, but she needed to gain some weight.

“I'm not lying. Now get your stuff and get out of my parents' house, or I'm calling the police."

Her pale face turned almost pure white as her eyes grew wide. “Your parents asked me to stay here. Call them. They'll tell you. They didn't say anything about you, though. Call them. They’ll tell you that they invited me to stay.”

Anger surged, and he clenched his fists. Maybe he moved a few inches toward her, maybe more than just a few inches before he screamed, “They’re dead!”

She flinched and stumbled back. He reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her steady. Her gaze slammed into his, showing a mixture of anger and fear.

He made sure she was steady before he let go. Shame filled him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not myself.”

“They’re dead?” She stumbled away from the door and plopped down on one of the oak kitchen chairs that had been around when he was a kid.

There was no reason for Peach to stay outside, so he stepped into the house. He noticed the kitchen was clean, very clean. The countertops almost sparkled because they were so well wiped down. It was opposite from how the house looked from the outside.

Tears spilled down the woman's face, and he still didn't know her name. Did he comfort her or ignore her? He wasn’t on a mission, so there was no reason to kneel beside her and get her to talk. But she shouldn’t be here. His parents hadn’t said anything about it. Then again, he hadn’t talked to them recently.

She needed to leave. He should find a way to get her out the door and on her way. No way would he call the cops, not now. This woman really was upset. The tears weren’t fake at all. She’d known his parents.

"I'm Peach, by the way."

Her head whipped up, and her lips turned down in a frown. "Their son's name is Robert. Who are you?"

He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, my name is Robert, but everyone calls me Peach.”

“That’s dumb.”

A chuckle escaped his lips, and then guilt wiped the humor away. His parents were dead. He was handling this all wrong.

Peach sat in the kitchen chair at the end of the table and tried for a relaxed position that would show her he wasn’t a threat. “What is your name?”

She picked up a napkin and swiped at her tears before her eyes narrowed. The woman wasn't wearing makeup, at least not eye makeup. She might have lipstick on or not. He wasn't sure. She had a few freckles, but not many. Her eyes were a pale shade of blue, with just a little green on the edge of the outside of each iris. She looked interesting, for sure. But that wasn't why he was here.

He had five days. Exhaustion from not sleeping much on the red-eye combined with hunger, almost taking him down. Now he had to deal with this stranger who he should have tossed out on her rear, but something told him to listen to her story and find out why his parents would allow a stranger to stay in their house while they weren’t around.