It Happened on Love Street

by Lia Riley

Rhett whirled. “Only after you made backroom promises offering members a seventy percent discount at the General’s General Store for three months.”

  “Rumors and conjectures.” Colonel Jim waved a smug hand. “Nothing can be proven.”

  Pepper blew up her bangs as the bickering grew in volume. Thomas Jefferson wasn’t lying when he wrote that all men are created equal. He just forgot to add the “equally stupid” part. Finally she broke out the commanding finger whistle Dad made her master in case she ever got lost in the woods.

  Startled silence ensued.

  “Focus, people. Please. My client can’t be eaten on my first day.” There it came, the strange sensation of standing outside herself, the one that accompanied hyperventilation. “To be on the safe side though, how does one give a swine the Heimlich?”

  “Honey, look at the shade she’s gone. What would you call that, celery root?” Colonel Jim asked, tapping the side of his chin thoughtfully. “That color would look fabulous in a linen set.”

  “What do you need?” Rhett stepped forward. “Water? A seat?”

  “My client, in one piece and undigested.” She took off, walking the perimeter of the park, her voice cracking from strain. “Wolfgang? Wolfgang? Here, buddy. Hey you, come on. It’s your ol’ pal, Pepper. Here, boy.”

  The park buzzed like a hive. Let them stare. Point. Shake their heads like she’d lost her damn mind. No humiliation was too great to find Wolfgang. If Dude gobbled him—

  “Pardon me. Might I be of some assistance?”

  Wait a second. She glanced at the phone. Had British Darcy come to save the day? Nope. This was a real, live person. Be still her heart.

  Outside the dog park, on a wooden bench, a dashing man with an inquisitive gaze set down a book titled Daily Life in the Georgian and Regency Periods. He dressed in brushed wool trousers and wore oxford shoes like he’d stepped out of her brain as a replica of her fantasy man. Except he wasn’t in Manhattan, he was here, in Everland.

  Rhett glowered over from across the park—not at all a Mr. Darcy type—except for that bemused frown. He was more an all-American good ol’ boy who watched football on Sundays, barbecued in his backyard, and threw around a Frisbee with dogs.

  Totally not her type.

  This guy, on the other hand…

  “Hello.” She tried flipping her hair over her shoulder, forgetting it was tied up. Wonderful. Now her hand dangled somewhere behind her head and she was a gesticulating crazy person. “I’m looking for a dog. You might have mistaken it for a swamp rat?” If she talked fast, maybe that would distract him.

  “Indeed.” He gave his chin a musing rub. “I must say that I harbor a sneaking suspicion on his general whereabouts.”

  “You do?”

  He nodded in the direction of a rustling bush. “Consider directing your investigation that way. A great deal of whining emitted from the foliage a moment ago.”

  She bent, peering into the undergrowth. Wolfgang crouched beneath a branch, snout deep in one of Dude’s peaches.

  “Are you crazy?” she muttered. No wonder the hungry swine was on the move. “Do you have a death wish?”

  Wolfgang pointedly ignored her, lapping the pit to a gleaming polish.

  If she hadn’t been so relieved by the fact the Chihuahua lived she’d have scooped him up from the tail and fed him to the boar herself.

  “All’s well that ends well?” the man asked.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she replied gratefully. “You are a lifesaver.”

  “The name’s Cedric Swift.” His smile revealed deep-set dimples. “And pleased to be of service. I debated taking this bench—allergic to dogs, I’m afraid—but must say, I’m rather glad for it. This is my first week in Everland. I’m letting a cottage near the river.”

  “Small world.” She toyed with her off-the-shoulder neckline. Allergic to dogs? Dreamy. “I’m Pepper and also new in town. But won’t be staying.”

  “Ah.” His shoulders fell. “More’s the pity,” he said. Was it wishful thinking or did a trace of wistfulness color his words?

  “You sound a long way from home.”

  “Ah. Yes. From across the pond.” He blinked rapidly. “The Cotswolds in south central England. The land of thatched roofs, cobblestone streets, and teahouses.”

  “What brings you here?” She was curious, but also curious that her pulse stayed on an even keel. This guy was polished and had a hot British accent. Yes her insides stayed as serene as a morning pond.

  “Well, you see, I’m something of a specialist on the subject of outlaws in the Atlantic. The great age of sail is of particular interest.”

  Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she captured Rhett’s gaze. Not hard, considering he was staring in her direction, one hand shoved deep in his pockets. Sun reflected on his glasses, hiding the expression in his eyes. For not being her type, she found herself more curious about him than her current conversation.

  “Ah, I’ve bored you already,” Cedric said. “This is a new record.”

  She snapped back her head to protest and he lifted a hand. “Not a problem. You won’t be the first. Or the last, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re a historian?” Just because she lacked chemistry with this very sweet, very charming man didn’t mean she needed to abandon manners.

  He nodded. “From Oxford. I wrote the definite account of how Falmouth became a vital part of the empire’s maritime strategy during the early to mid-nineteenth century. You might have read it?”

  “Um—”

  “I was only having a bit of fun,” he said with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Not even my own mum stayed awake past the first chapter. Rather dry stuff, I’m afraid. Still, it’s allowed me to take a sabbatical for the year. I’m quite interested in the Redbeard lore specific to this region.” He reached for the red thermos beside him. “But enough about me. May I interest you in joining me for a cuppa?”

  And if there was ever definitive proof that Everland was a parallel universe it was here, in the fact that she’d rather walk back over to a grumpy coffee-sipping veterinarian than stay and take tea with an intellectual Englishman who made befuddled Hugh Grant–like facial expressions.

  Notting Hill also happened to be one of her top five favorite movies.

  This choice didn’t happen lightly.

  “Rain check?” she asked, wrangling Wolfgang back on the leash. More concerned about the amorous look in his eyes than his teeth. Progress. Sort of.

  “Of course.” He took the gentle rebuff in good stride. “I expect to be here most mornings, keeping to this side of the fence, of course. And keeping an eye out for any wayward dogs.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” She smiled before returning to Rhett and the General.

  Rhett readjusted a shirt cuff with a stiff nod, not looking her in the eye. “Who was that?” he asked levelly.

  “Just a guy. New in town, too.” She shrugged. “From the UK.”

  “England?” Incredulity tinged his words.

  “Why are you using that tone?” Pepper stepped under the towering magnolia, seeking refuge from the sun’s unrelenting rays.

  “Tone?” He frowned down at her. “I have no tone.”

  She held her ground. “You do, too.”

  “Do not.”

  “Well, what I do know is that we like seeing you around here, brother. Stop bein’ a stranger.” The General clapped a friendly hand on Rhett’s shoulder. “Why I bet you’ve the makings of a champion Scrabble player, a regular chip off the ol’ block.”

  “Scrabble?”

  “We play here daily.” He pointed at a picnic table where a well-dressed older woman was unpacking a board. Her blue rinse was vaguely familiar. It took a minute for recognition to hit. She was the frowning lurker from the big house along Hopes and Dreams Way, the one who behaved as if her sheer curtains were camouflage yesterday morning when Pepper got lost on the first—only—morning of her clerkship.

  “And there he is,” the General continued.
“Ladies and gents, the current reigning word champion.”

  The wrought iron gate creaked and in strolled an older man in a suit. At first glance he appeared harmless enough, in his early seventies with a vigorous step. His nose hooked, and his close-set gaze was bright with a fierce intelligence. Not even the fact he matched his bowties to his lapdog’s hair ribbons dimmed his dignity.

  The fuzz ball glanced in her direction and emitted a low growl in the back of her throat.

  Ah, Fluffy. We meet again. Pepper leaned in to Rhett. “If Dude ever did acquire a taste for dog, I know who I’d put on the menu.”

  Rhett didn’t respond. In fact, the blood had drained from his face.

  “Hey. You okay?” she murmured. “You don’t look good.”

  “I’m late for my next appointment.” He squinted, gaze hard, like they’d been on her front porch the night Miss Ida May had spoken to him.

  Pepper quickly put two and two together. That older man was the same guy she’d seen Rhett arguing with near the courthouse. “Fluffy’s owner is your dad?”

  “Her name is Marie Claire,” he snapped. “Now try not to lose any more clients. I stuck my neck out getting you this job.”

  Ouch. She bristled, taken aback at the tone. “Don’t worry, I won’t forget…”

  But he’d already stalked off without waiting for her response, giving the old man a wide berth.

  “Doctor, might I have the pleasure of introducing the Everland dog park’s newest member?” The General gallantly signaled toward Pepper.

  “Miss Knight, I presume.” The old man clicked his heels and executed a stiff bow.

  “This is Doc Valentine,” the General said. “A living local legend. Delivered half the town. And he’s Rhett’s father,” he added out of the side of his mouth. “They don’t get along.”

  Doc glowered. Ah, there was the family resemblance. That and the way he held himself. No fidgeting.

  “Nice to meet you and um, you?” Addressing a dog felt silly but this one seemed to be following the conversation. Wolfgang hurled himself forward, whining, thin tail wagging.

  Fluffy growled low in her throat.

  “Marie Claire has rarified tastes,” Doc said. “She’s discriminating in whom she associates with.”

  Was Doc projecting himself on his pet? Forget pirate history. Someone needed to conduct a dog park psychological study. In the meantime, how was she going to survive this job without losing her damn mind?

  Chapter Ten

  Rhett stalked the shady, tree-lined street. What had he been thinking? He never visited the dog park. That was Doc’s territory. They had marked Everland like two alphas claiming territory. His dad got the park. Rhett got Sweet Brew. His dad got Chez Louis. Rhett got Smuggler’s Cove. Dad had a membership to the upscale Ocean Springs Yacht Club, while Rhett kept Calypso docked at the more low-key Buccaneers Marina. Today he’d crossed enemy lines and for what? To check on Pepper and see how she did walking a dog?

  No. The truth was worse. He’d gotten curious about a woman. Worse, he’d allowed that curiosity to propel him into the park and the interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  It was enough to almost make him miss the uncomplicated days of the Birdie era. Nobody gave a hoot over a couple who’d gone steady since junior high. There were no surprises between them until she left him standing at the altar while the whole damn town watched with stomach-churning expressions.

  Like it or not, Pepper Knight had captured his attention. It wasn’t just that she was striking, the thick brows that somehow worked on her otherwise delicate features or the small mole dotting her upper lip. And it had nothing to do with the way her tight pants hugged her hips. Those helped, but it was something more.

  When she looked at him, recognition sparked, like catching a glimpse of one’s reflection in a window. She’d been hurt deep, too, and he’d never been able to resist helping anything lost.

  “Rhett Jamison Valentine, kindly hightail your tushie over here.”

  Lou Lou had her Suburban parked across the road, glaring out the driver’s-side window with an expression that could freeze hell to an ice rink.

  “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. This day took a sharp turn from bad to worse.

  “Keep it PG for the little pitchers. Besides, you know how I feel about foul language.” Lou Ellen had the manners of a belle and the ears of an elephant. She also swore like a sailor after her third mint julep, but reminding her of that fact would get him nowhere fast.

  As he crossed the road, the back window rolled down and four heads popped out.

  “Hey, Uncle Rhett.”

  “You’re in trouble.”

  “Big trouble.”

  “Hoo-wee. Mama is maaaaaad.”

  His four nieces could barely contain their glee. Guess it was another day ending in y.

  “And you all defended me, right?” he said, giving them a mock glare.

  “Nope,” they chimed in sweet unison. The little devils.

  His sister removed her sunglasses, and a pang slammed through him. Lou Ellen was the spitting image of Mama. The same platinum-blonde hair. And same penetrating take-no-prisoners stare that cut right through a man’s soul.

  “Butter my biscuit,” she sang out, slapping the steering wheel. “The gossip’s true. You are interested in your new neighbor.”

  Damn it to hell. How did she always do that? Know exactly what he was thinking. He raked a hand over his head and leaned in. “Can you talk any louder? Pretty sure Miss Ida May only caught half of that, five blocks away, with the windows shut.”

  “The truth is stamped all over your face,” she pushed on. “That’s the same expression you used to get on Christmas morning.”

  Busted. He crossed his arms over his chest. No one ever caught him off guard like his sister. Her Sherlock Holmes–like powers of perception were fierce. It was a shame the CIA never came knocking. Although on second thought, maybe they had, and she was secretly an international spy hidden behind a smear of pink lipstick and blue eyeshadow. “I don’t—”

  “Don’t burst a gullet denying what’s obvious to anyone with two working eyes. Word to the wise, little brother. Ida May is ready to start a new neighborhood watch program so get your P’s and Q’s in order, and”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“do you have condoms at home? Unexpired ones? Better safe than sorry, I always say.”

  Overhead, two buzzards circled leisurely. They might get lucky after his sister was finished with him. “Nothing is going on.”

  “Mm-hmm. Except that you haven’t engaged in a willing, non-work-related conversation with an eligible member of the opposite sex since I don’t know when.”

  “I like my life.” He knocked a boot against her tire. “I’m happy.” Or at least not in the grip of soul-destroying active unhappiness. If someone would happen to run their fingers over his heart, it would come up coated in thick dust.

  “Stop sulking, you big baby. I’d hand over my Macy’s card to have that magical falling-head-over-heels feeling again.” Her pert nose crinkled. “Instead I’ve got to text Snapper and remind him that we’re out of laundry detergent. Again. And the front hall toilet’s not flushing right for the second time this week. I don’t know what y’all are doin’ in there,” she hollered over one shoulder.

  “Sorry, Mama!” the kids shouted from the rear, sounding the opposite of apologetic.

  Rhett hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “Know what? I’m gonna get going.” Lou Lou’s long-suffering husband, Snapper, was a far more patient man than him, poor son of a bitch. His sister had the biggest heart in four counties, but also the biggest mouth.

  “I’ll have to pop by the old Carmichael place and introduce myself. Think she likes red velvet cake? Oh, fiddle dee, what am I asking you for? Who doesn’t love my baking?”

  Another headache threatened. He’d take a deep breath, but he’d already tried that. No more air would fit into his lungs. He released some in a sigh. This is what he’d been afraid
of, other people getting involved, not giving him time or space to figure feelings out for himself. “Don’t go poking for trouble where there is none.”

  “I can’t believe Al snubbed her like that.” No one got away with calling Aloysius Hogg “Al” except for Lou Lou. She’d briefly dated him senior year. He’d gone too frisky at prom, and she’d dumped him on the dance floor, but not before giving him a knee where the sun don’t shine.

  Hogg had started rumors, but he picked the wrong family to tarnish. No one had a memory as long as Lou Lou’s. She cherished her grudges more than her prized silver flatware, and polished them even more regularly.

  Rhett got knocked around in a few fights with the Hogg extended family, meathead cousins egged on by Al. Mama took one look at the boot-print bruise over his kidney and near lost her mind. Doc stepped in and that was it. Game over. His father used his community influence to block Hogg from receiving a local scholarship, and the resulting enmity had endured to the present day.

  Lou Lou didn’t mind. In fact she was rather proud of the “feud,” as she called it, claiming that having a family nemesis was invigorating for the spirit. Rhett thought it was a pain in the ass, but he couldn’t respect a man who let others fight his battles, so he let sleeping dogs lie.

  “Well, if you’re not interested in your neighbor, how about being Mr. Scallywag?” Lou Ellen held up a finger, cutting him off before he finished opening his mouth. “The Village Pillage is next month, and we don’t have anyone.”

  “I’m shocked,” he said dryly. The Village Pillage was the annual Everland summer festival, a celebration of the town’s pirate heritage. One of the key events was the town silent auction. He always donated a free check-up. But each year some unlucky chump was Mr. Scallywag and was put on the block for a blind date. “Who the hell would want to be Mr. Scallywag?”

  “A man who wants to help his sister who is the chair of the silent auction? Besides, the money is going to enhance Everland Green, and that includes your beloved dog park.”

  “I’m working my ass off to build an animal shelter. My conscience is clear.”

  “When are you going to come over and play Barbies again, Uncle Rhett? You are the best Ken!” Lilac cried as Lorelai piped from the far back of the van, “Mama, can Santa bring me a My Little Pony for Christmas? I want Applejack.”