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Heather zigged as he zagged, and somehow her shoulder brushed his arm. She caught her breath, reveling in that slight touch. He wasn’t completely wrong about female tendencies. “Maybe because our biological clocks are ticking.”

“Your what?”

“Women aren’t of childbearing age forever, you know. If I’m going to have those half-dozen kids I want, I should be getting started soon. First, I need to find the right guy and nail him down.”

Too forward? Maybe, but Weston seemed to need a kick in the rear to point him in the right direction.

“Anyway, that’s probably somewhere in Heather’s mind, too.”

“She’s the one who’s leaving Sweet River for some guy named David.”

“What all did you hear?”

He hesitated. “Isn’t that gossip?”

“Maybe it’s a heads-up.”

“Well, she’s going home to Gilead. Isn’t that where Maxwell grew up? In Kansas? They must have known each other for a long time.”

“Your aunt Maribel still lives there from what Cadence told me. And yeah, all her boys graduated from high school there before moving to Chicago to work for their grandfather.”

“Max said something about a dumb promise she’d made to that guy. David.”

Paisley grabbed Weston’s arm and stopped in the middle of Pegasus Lane. “A marriage pact? Did Heather promise to marry that other guy? That’s crazy!”

Weston scratched his neck. “I don’t know if that’s what she meant, but your idea sounds stupid. Nobody does that.”

Paisley’s brain raced around the fascinating puzzle, studying it from various angles. She should talk to Heather before she left. Or… not, because that would mean she was admitting to having overheard part of her fight with Maxwell.

She was still clutching Weston’s arm. She should either drop her hand or pretend he was her escort to the dining hall. The latter, of course. She pulled on his arm. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

“So you say.” But he went along with it.

“I’ve heard a marriage pact is between two kids who are afraid of being left high and dry at some imagined ancient age, like thirty—” a number Paisley would be staring down the barrel of in a couple of years “— and they decide that if they’re both still single then, they’ll marry each other.”

“Even stupider than I thought.”

Paisley put a ton of emotion into her sigh. “It sounds sweet to me.”

“To have a backup boyfriend in case you can’t find one in real life.”

She laughed. “When you put it that way… but Heather did find someone who would love her. Maxwell.” The main lodge was now in sight, and suddenly, Paisley wasn’t in an all-fired hurry to get there. “Every woman just wants to be loved.”

Weston shifted away, and her hand dropped to her side. “Oh, yeah?”

Paisley still had a captive audience, though the minutes were numbered. “I’m sure that’s what Heather wants from Maxwell. They’d make such a great couple if they got over themselves.”

Oops, had she said that out loud? Because she kind of felt the same about her and Weston. Maybe after today, he did, too?

A few feet up the trail, Weston pivoted and stared at her, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Are you quite done rhapsodizing? Mom will only hold dinner so long.”

So much for thinking he’d see any romance in this conversation. “Okay, fine, I’m done.” She hooked her hand around his arm again and looked up at him. “For now. But you need to know that I believe in romance. I believe that God brings people together. I believe He blesses relationships and helps them love each other even when it’s hard.”

Even when her mouth ran off, which it had done a dozen times today and was doing again right now. Sheesh, girl, shut up a minute.

“You’re wrong.”

Oh, boy. Paisley tipped up her chin and met Weston’s gaze. “Hmm?”