For one tiny moment, he saw something in her eyes that made him believe she still loved him too.
The night had gone from bad to worse. Scarlett stood beside the table, waiting for Rigby to join her and eat a piece of congratulatory pie. The minute the auction ended, Vernon stormed off mad enough to chew nails. She was ticked at Vernon for acting so juvenile about the whole thing like a jealous maniac. It was a stupid pie. She and Rigby would eat a piece, and that would be that. Vernon had the nerve to suggest Scarlett did something to lead Rigby on, but she hadn’t … had she? She’d not meant to look his direction, hadn’t meant to hope that he would bid on her pie. And then their eyes locked, and she felt something stir inside her. She could almost see the wheels turning in Rigby’s head as he placed the bid. From that point, she had no doubt Rigby would win. He would’ve won if he had to die trying. She couldn’t help but feel a little impressed at his tenacity, but the obscene amount he paid for the pie was downright embarrassing.
Someone touched her arm. She turned as Coralee stepped up beside her. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
Coralee studied her. “That was some auction.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure what to say. After all, she couldn’t exactly badmouth Rigby to Coralee. Did she want to badmouth him? She wasn’t sure what she wanted where Rigby was concerned.
“Rigby never does anything small,” Coralee said, and from the intense way she was staring, Scarlett got the feeling Coralee could see right through her.
“That’s an understatement,” she grunted.
“He cares about you, Scarlett. He always has.”
The words broadsided her causing tears to spring to her eyes. She quickly blinked them away.
Coralee gave her a maternal smile. “As you know, it’s not easy growing up without parents. Rigby had to get tough or die, so to speak. He’s tough on the outside but a teddy bear inside.” She cleared her throat, her eyes going misty. “Rigby’s been through a lot, please don’t break his heart.”
Scarlett’s first impulse was to laugh, and then she wanted to argue that she and Rigby no longer had that type of relationship. She was the victim here—the one nursing the broken heart. Rigby had rebounded to Sadonna Roberts faster than Scarlett could blink. And sure, that hadn’t worked out too well for him, which is probably what Coralee was referring to. But that had been Rigby’s own stupid fault. Any words Scarlett could’ve formed died on her lips seeing the concern in Coralee’s eyes, so she simply nodded. Coralee’s lips pressed together in acknowledgement as she walked regally away. An army of traitorous butterflies unleashed in Scarlett’s stomach when Rigby stepped up.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she responded.
He cleared his throat, then glanced around. “So, where do you wanna eat the pie?”
It struck her then that he was more jittery than a popcorn kernel in hot oil. For some reason, this helped put her at ease. “Let’s go find an empty picnic table somewhere.” She reached for the pie. “Can you grab those napkins and forks?”
“Sure.”
As they walked side-by-side to find an empty table, people passing gave them curious glances. “Well, you’ve managed to capture the interest of the town, even more than you normally do,” she said wryly. “Ten thousand dollars for a pie.” She looked down. “A pie which is unfortunately cold with no whipped cream.”
“I’m sure it’ll taste great,” he said absently.
She frowned. “Are you okay?”
He forced a smile. “Yeah.”
First, he’d bid an obscene amount for her pie, and now he was acting distant. It made no sense. She pointed. “There’s an empty table.” They went to it and sat down across from each other where Scarlett proceeded to dish out the pie. She gave him his and waited for him to take a bite. When he didn’t, she cocked her head. “What’s wrong?”
His eyes met hers. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you tonight with the bid.”
Had Rigby acted smug about the auction, she would’ve been justified in staying on her high-horse, but now that he was apologizing … Well, she didn’t know what to think.
She shook her head, chuckling under her breath. “Ten thousand dollars for a pie?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around what it must be like to have that kind of money, which you could plop down on a whim. “What were you thinking?”
“About you.”
She jerked. “What?”
He shrugged. “You looked at me …”
“And what?” she prompted, already knowing what he was going to say.
His eyes met hers. “And I could tell.” He coughed to clear his throat.
“You could tell what?” she prompted, her jaw tightening.
“That you wanted me to bid.”
“That’s not true.” Hot needles pelted her, and she felt nauseated. Was she that obvious? No wonder Vernon had left in a huff.
“I had fun with you tonight. We had fun tonight.” An easy smile tugged at his lips. “Admit it. You had a blast.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, shoving pie in your face had its benefits.”
“And the kiss?”
Her face flamed as she tried to formulate a response.
He lifted an eyebrow. “I rest my case.”
Rigby was notorious for backing her into a corner. “Well, you’re certainly as conceited as you’ve always been. Expecting every woman to fall at your feet.”
“No, not expecting … just hoping for the admiration of one.” The words were spoken like a caress that sent Scarlett’s pulse racing. Rigby touched her hand, sending electricity buzzing through her. “What if,” he continued, “we forget everything that happened in the past and go on a few dates? See what happens.”
Forget the past? He might as well have asked her to capture the moon and put it in a jar. A hard laugh gurgled in her throat. “We’re supposed to just drop everything and date each other?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Well, Vernon, for one,” she retorted.
His features tightened. “Are you really gonna marry Vernie?”
The incredulous way he phrased the question grated on her nerves. “It’s not Vernie, but Vernon,” she corrected.
He rolled his eyes. “Call him what you want. He’s still the same annoying kid that used to follow us around like a puppy dog.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I’ll have you know that Vernon’s a highly skilled physician who saves lives, unlike some person who thinks passing a football around a field makes him a god.”
He chuckled humorlessly, his blue eyes reminding Scarlett of a frosty pond. “I’m well aware of my skills and limitations, thank you very much. And for the record, I’ve never claimed to be anything more than what I am.” He gave her a shrewd look. “You’re just attacking me to deflect the situation because you don’t want to face a certain fact.”
Her face was so hot, she felt like her head would explode. No one could get her riled faster than Rigby. “What’re you getting at?” she spat.
“Vernie’s not the right guy for you.”
She let out a harsh laugh. “Don’t think for one minute you can come charging into town and pronounce judgement on me.” She hated the tremble in her voice and the traitorous tears that sprang to her eyes as her voice went higher. “You left, and that means you don’t get a say.”
He leaned forward into her personal space, his eyes honing in with laser-like focus. “I asked—no, begged you to come with me.” His voice went hoarse. “So in reality, you’re the one who left me. And yet, I’m here … asking for another chance.”
Before Scarlett could answer, her grandfather strode up to them. She fixed on a smile. “Hey.”
“Scarlett,” Douglas said curtly, giving Rigby a scathing look before turning his attention back to her. “I’ve been looking for you all over. You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Oh, sorry. I put my phone on silent during the auction and forgot to turn
the ringer back on.”
“Mr. Foster. How ya’ doing?” Rigby said.
Douglas ignored Rigby but kept his eyes trained on Scarlett. “Vernon’s meeting us back at the house for homemade ice cream.”
Her brows darted together. “Really? I thought he was going home for the evening.” Even though Scarlett was ticked at Rigby, she didn’t appreciate her grandfather treating him so rudely. Douglas had always clashed with Rigby but was tight with Vernon. No doubt he was freaking out that Rigby had bid ten thousand dollars on her pie, which now she was here, sharing with him.
“I caught him on the way out and invited him,” Douglas said.
Scarlett didn’t want to see Vernon tonight, not after the way he acted. Nor did she appreciate her grandfather trying to control her life. She arched an eyebrow. “I’ll be there as soon as Rigby and I finish our pie.”
Douglas drew himself up. “It’s unwise to keep Vernon waiting while you—”
“Eat pie with the winner of the bid?” Scarlett shot back. “That’s all this is, nothing more.” Even as she spoke her last words, she saw Rigby’s features tighten.
Rigby stood, looking at Scarlett, regret settling into his eyes. “I’ve held you up long enough. It would be a shame to keep your fiancé waiting … for pie.” He turned, looking Douglas in the eye. “Mr. Foster,” he said with a curt nod.
The faint mocking tone of Rigby’s voice pricked Scarlett. She was about to protest that he’d not taken a single bite of the pie, but realized that would make her sound wishy washy. One minute, her inclination was to draw him near, and the next, she was pushing him away. She’d always considered herself a straight shooter and didn’t like this side of herself.
She was unprepared for the feeling of loss that punched at her gut when Rigby turned on his heel and strode away.
6
In this type of situation, it was better to keep his mouth shut. Rigby cradled the phone on his shoulder, methodically brushing paint on the siding as he halfway listed to Monroe rant about the woes of being an agent to someone who didn’t have a clue what it meant to lay low. Frankly, Rigby was surprised the news outlets had picked up the story so quickly. It had only happened the night before.
“Ten thousand dollars for a pie?” Monroe raved. “Heck, if you wanted to throw a few bucks to the wind, you could’ve given them to me.” He let out a long string of curses. “Man, this doesn’t bode well for you. It makes you look frivolous, irresponsible.”
Or desperate to get the attention of the woman I’ve always been in love with, Rigby could’ve added. When he decided to come home to Clementine for a few weeks, he hadn’t intended to try and get Scarlett back. But the minute he saw her, it was like something clicked, and he knew he’d never feel complete unless she was in his life.
“Who is Scarlett Foster? After all, that’s what this is about, isn’t it Rocket? A woman.” He grunted in disgust.
Rigby let out a long breath. “Scarlett’s my next-door neighbor … and former girlfriend.”
“Man, I knew it. You said you were going home to lay low, not pick up chicks. You can’t afford any more mistakes.”
“I don’t think bidding on the pie was a mistake.” Before Monroe could start yelling again, Rigby interrupted him. “Hold it, man. Hear me out.”
“I’m listening,” Monroe growled.
“The money from the auction goes to benefit a ladies’ club affiliated with the local church. They organize events that help the needy.”
“Hmm … interesting,” he mused.
Rigby could tell the tides were turning in his favor.
“So, essentially, by donating ten thousand dollars for the pie, you were really trying to help the ladies’ organization in a roundabout way.”
“Exactly.
Long pause. “Okay, I hear what you clucking, big chicken. That could work, but I’ll need some information about the club for the press release.”
Rigby smiled. Monroe had the quirkiest sayings. “I’ll put you in touch with my grandmother. She heads it up.”
“I think I can make this work … but Rigby, no more funny business. For goodness sake, man, just bide your time for the next few weeks, and then we’re home free—providing you don’t do anything stupid. Oh, and you’ve gotta attend those anger management classes. Did you get that email I sent with the info?”
He sighed. “Yes, I’ve already contacted them. I start classes in Daphne next week.”
“Very good.”
A minute later, Rigby ended the call. He was grateful Monroe had his back, even though he tried to keep Rigby on a tight leash. Aside from the threat of injury, the hardest part about Rigby’s career was minding his p’s and q’s to keep everyone happy. He was supposed to unleash fury on the field, then bottle it up and behave as a model citizen the rest of the time, all while living in a fishbowl and being goaded by the press.
He heard a door open and looked next-door. He hoped it might be Scarlett coming out, but it was Douglas in his robe, getting his morning paper. When he saw Rigby, he paused long enough to shoot him a death-glare before marching back in the house. Irritation crawled up Rigby’s neck as he frowned. The old man hated his guts now as much as ever. The bad blood started when Rigby was in high school. He’d talked Scarlett into skipping classes and going to the beach. Looking back through adult eyes, Rigby could understand why Douglas was upset. But that was years ago. From the way Douglas was acting, Rigby would’ve thought he’d broken Scarlett’s heart instead of the other way around. If anything, Rigby should be the one holding a grudge. Most of the reason Scarlett wouldn’t go with him to Tampa was because she felt responsible for her grandparents and didn’t want to leave them, especially with her grandmother being sick. Now that her grandmother had passed, Scarlett was probably even more protective of Mr. Foster.
Coralee stuck her head out the door. “Are you hungry? I made pancakes.”
“Let me finish this section, and I’ll come in and eat.” It had been wonderful spending time with his grandmother. He’d wondered how she would react to him bidding on Scarlett’s pie and feared she might lecture him for being irresponsible, as Monroe had.
He was surprised when she said, “You’ve caught Scarlett’s attention. Now you need to set things straight with her.” Then she looked at him with penetrating eyes that could make a hardened criminal spill his guts. “Do you still love her?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “I’ve never stopped.”
She pursed her lips, nodding like she already knew. “Don’t squander your time.”
“But what about Vernie Stanley?” he argued.
She peered over her glasses at him the way she always did when she was trying to get her point across. “Scarlett Foster has eyes for only one man … and we both know who that is. Fight for her, Rigby. Show her you love her.”
“But how? She didn’t seem all that impressed with the pie thing,” he grumbled.
She chuckled. “Oh, I suspect she was more impressed than she let on. But to answer your question—I can’t tell you how to make Scarlett love you. You’ll have to figure that out on your own. But I have full confidence that you will.” A smile touched her lips. “After all, you’re my grandson. Just be you. That’ll be enough.”
As good as those words sounded, Rigby didn’t have a clue how to go about winning Scarlett’s heart. After last night, it was obvious the direct approach wasn’t going to work. Rigby couldn’t plow his way to the win like he did on the field. This was going to require strategy and finesse. When Douglas Foster showed up acting like such a pompous jerk, Rigby’s first impulse was to tell the old man off, but he knew that would end disastrously. So, he left before he said something he regretted. It about killed Rigby to hear the laughter and voices floating from the front porch as Scarlett, Vernie, and Douglas ate ice cream. He scowled, detesting the hot jealousy scorching through his veins. Rigby was sure Vernie was a decent enough guy, but he was in the middle of something he had no business being in. Rigby and Scar
lett had a long history together, and he knew he was the right guy for her.
Now he had to find a way to convince Scarlett.
“Are you gonna stand at the window all day watching Rigby paint, or are you going to work?”
Scarlett jumped, her hand going to her chest, as she turned to face her grandfather with a shaky laugh. “I didn’t realize you were there.”
His brows furrowed as he lifted his coffee mug to his lips and took a drink. Then he lowered the mug, eyeing her. “You’ve got a good thing going with Vernon. Don’t throw it away on a pretty face.”
She drew herself up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Think about what happened the last time you got your heart set on Rigby. Losing him nearly ripped you to pieces. I don’t wanna see you get hurt again.”
She let out a light laugh that sounded false, even to her. “I have no intention of getting involved with Rigby.”
He arched an eyebrow. “When a man pays ten thousand dollars for a pie, a woman’s bound to take notice … even you, Scarlett.”
She adjusted her blouse. “It was Rigby’s choice to bid on the pie. I had nothing to do with it.”
“You had everything to do with it,” Douglas countered. He gave her a tender look. “Rigby lives in a different world than you, honey. That’s not a bad thing, just the way it is. Do you really think you’d be content to be a trophy wife to a celebrated football star?”
“I’m not dating Rigby,” she snapped. “Vernon and I are together now. How many times do I have to keep repeating that?”
“Until it sinks in your head. I saw the way you looked at Rigby last night. The whole blasted town saw it.”
She gulped in a breath. There was nothing she could say to combat that. It was true. She probably had been eyeing him last night. Heck, every female at the fair over the age of sixteen was probably ogling him. “Okay, what do you want? A confession in blood? Yes, I’m attracted to Rigby. And yes, there’s a very small part of me that still cares for him. But I’ve told you I’m not going to act on those feelings. Happy now?”
The Perfect Catch (Last Play Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion) Book 9) Page 6