It Happened on Love Street

by Lia Riley

  “Whatever he did, you can be sure he had it coming.”

  “The funny thing is, I could have sworn today was my lucky day.” Her palms dampened. A solution must exist. She was strong. Resourceful. She’d clawed out of Moose Bottom and reached New York on her own gumption. That plastic-faced intimidator wasn’t going to be her Waterloo.

  Chapter Eighteen

  After Rhett left Pepper, he jumped the property fence, fed and watered the dogs, took a shower, and walked to work. His pace was quick, Faulkner, Steinbeck, and Fitzgerald barely keeping up. But he couldn’t outpace the uncomfortable feeling nipping at his heels.

  Weren’t men the ones who were supposed to crave sex without the emotional connection? Why was he defective? It left him uneasy how Pepper took his departure in stride, even though he’d promised to keep it on a friend level, not puss out and go heart eyes after the first round.

  It wasn’t until he leaned against the counter at Sweet Brew waiting for Delfi, the barista, to grind his coffee that he processed his situation. Last night he hadn’t simply opened Pepper’s legs; he’d opened a part of his heart that had been cut off for years.

  He wasn’t an island anymore; now a narrow isthmus connected him back to the Land of Feelings.

  Fuck.

  He picked up his drink and took a careful swallow. The bitter French roast seared his tongue. Don’t be an idiot. The isthmus was temporary. He’d drown it under a rising ocean of stone cold realism soon enough. He was here for the wham and the bam, too. Simple. Straightforward.

  Three women leaned in close at the nearest table. “I’m telling you the man was soaked, covered in head-to-toe Coke.”

  He snorted under his breath. Sounded like someone had a rough start to their day.

  He fiddled with the lid and returned to his thoughts. The ugly truth was that he’d come dangerously close to losing his goddamn mind inside her sweat-slicked skin. Her astonished look as they fell over the edge together was branded on the back of his lids. Every time he closed his eyes it was all he could see. Already need was building back up in his cock. A hunger that had been repressed for too long.

  He’d done it this time. Fucked himself in the head.

  He’d had sex, screwed, and even made love over the course of his life, and knew the difference between the three. The thing is, what happened with Pepper was something else, something different, a connection that had a class all its own.

  But she came with an expiration date, and who knew, maybe that was the attraction. The old adage of wanting what you can’t have. He didn’t think he was that kind of guy, but maybe fate needed to take him down a peg.

  Consider his ass humbled.

  He stalked to an empty chair by the window, grabbed a copy of the Everland Examiner, and pretended to scan the headlines.

  “Judge Hogg won’t take an insult without retaliation,” Maryann Munro whispered, or at least gave it her best attempt. “That poor girl.”

  The table murmured in sympathy.

  Speak of the bastard, the judge’s shiny face offered up a smarmy smile from a black and white photo on page two of the paper. The connecting article claimed he was the newest board member for the Low Country Community Foundation.

  Rhett lowered the paper, staring at the opposite wall in stunned horror. Hogg had joined the LCCF?

  God. Damn. It.

  Last spring, Rhett had applied to the foundation for a construction grant to help fund the Virginia Valentine Memorial Shelter’s capital campaigns costs. The board was to be making a decision this month. He’d already led two member tours, shared blueprints, and talked about community benefits and public health and safety issues. He’d jumped through every hoop and was three-quarters of the way to the shelter’s funding goal. But construction grants needed to be approved by the unanimous board, and Hogg had hated the Valentines ever since he ran afoul of Lou Ellen back in high school. No doubt he’d relish this opportunity to be a prick.

  Rhett tore a hand through his hair. The dryness in the back of his throat made swallowing painful. His nuts were in a noose and the judge had the power to kick out the chair. A few folks glanced over with curious expressions, and he checked his features. It was like living in a fucking fishbowl around here. For the first time he could understand why Pepper might be attracted to the city.

  Times like these made him wish for invisibility.

  He tossed the paper on the counter and trashed the coffee—his stomach was acidic enough—before walking out. Pepper might be doing a fantastic job keeping…whatever this was…a secret. But for a few seconds, he wanted to see her, even from a distance. Maybe she’d still be at the dog park.

  Please let her be at the park.

  If he could set eyes on her he’d be able to reassure himself that these feelings were skin-deep. That he’d had abstained long enough, so of course great sex screwed with his head. Once he could confirm that fact, the waters could rise and he could return to being an island.

  He froze.

  Pepper stood in the center of the park chatting with Mrs. Lee and her Cocker Spaniel. She threw back her head, laughing, as the General joined in, animatedly telling a story that involved a mock fistfight and what appeared to be a helluva dramatic chase scene.

  “Hey there, stranger.”

  His shoulder tensed on reflex. That sweet voice was a blast from the past.

  He waited a beat before turning and smiling at Kate and Will on their scooters. “There’s double the fun.” He winked at the twins.

  “Not today,” Elizabeth said grimly, shouldering her purse. “Mr. Will here received a yellow card at preschool and got himself sent home today.”

  “I didn’t mean to head-butt Tommy,” Will protested.

  “What’s this?” Rhett bent down. “You attacked a kid?” He wasn’t exactly Uncle Rhett to these kids, but he did his best to play a friendly role.

  “We were playing dinosaurs.” Kate jammed a finger up her nose and unself-consciously mined for gold. “He was a T-rex. I was a triceratops.”

  “Can’t argue that logic,” he said.

  “Stop.” Elizabeth laughed. “You’re encouraging them.”

  Pepper glanced over and slowly raised a hand.

  Elizabeth waved back before giving him the side eye. “What was that about?”

  “Nothing. A wave is a universal form of greeting,” he replied peevishly.

  “I know that, you donkey. But there’s more to that story. You two have met?”

  “She’s my neighbor,” he said as casually as possible, trying not to make a deal out of it, forcing his eyes off of Pepper.

  A frown marred the space between her sweeping brows. Elizabeth wasn’t on Lou Ellen’s level of mind reading, but still did a damn good job. “There is something.”

  “Leave it, Birdie.” He didn’t use his old nickname for her much these days. Only when he wanted to make sure he had her full attention.

  “Hear what she did earlier?”

  He didn’t take another breath until he realized the answer wasn’t him.

  He shook his head.

  “You look different.” She lowered her chin, giving him a solid once-over. “Happy. It’s a good look on you. One I haven’t seen in a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, work’s going well.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So is sailing.”

  She narrowed her eyes. He’d clearly set off her bullshit meter. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

  “Heard Chez Louis had a good write-up in the AJC.”

  “Yes, the newspaper came out. That was a big food critic too. Very exciting.” Elizabeth’s husband, Jean-Luc, owned the local French restaurant named for his father. After calling off the wedding, she’d returned to Everland a year later, engaged to and pregnant by a handsome chef from St. Barts.

  The first time he’d seem them together, he’d known in an instant that it was different. He and Birdie never traded secret hungry stares, crackling the air with unspoken tension
. He’d proposed too young and felt honor bound to see the deed through. Stay true to his commitment. Birdie wanted to be adored, not merely respected. When he was too stubborn to hear reason, she fled.

  At first he’d fed himself the usual lines. Good guys finish last. She was a commitment-phobe. He’d thrown himself a pity party night after night with his good friend Captain Morgan. Until a better friend intervened. Beau was the one who dragged him down to Buccaneers Marina and talked him into splitting the cost of a boat.

  Sometimes it sucked living in the same town as his ex-fiancé and first love. On lonely days it sucked a lot. But that wasn’t her fault, and when she applied to be Everland’s marketing manager in Beau’s office, she’d called him first.

  “I won’t do it if you mind,” she’d said.

  “You’ve been married almost five years and have two kids with a great guy. If I minded, I’d be an asshole and you should ignore me.”

  “You are a good guy,” Birdie had said. “One of the best.”

  Pepper glanced back again. He didn’t like her expression. Her smile was trying too hard to be relaxed. She kept touching her hair in that nervous way.

  “Poor thing had a heck of a start to her morning, bless her heart,” Birdie broke into his thoughts.

  “Yeah. You mentioned before.” He blinked impatiently. “What’s that supposed to mean?” For one brutal moment it seemed not only possible but plausible that Pepper blurted out the story of last night to Birdie. Because fate would be that big of an asshole.

  “I like her,” Birdie said in her usual decisive manner. “And Judge Hogg is a giant ass, pardon my French.”

  Kate slammed the brakes on her scooter so hard her colorful braided pigtails bounced. “Ass is French, Mama?”

  “Go on you, and don’t let me hear you use that word unless you want to suck a bar of Dial.” She clucked her tongue. “They don’t look it, but they’re always listening.”

  “What happened?” He was in full protective mode, the conversation from Sweet Brew snapping into place. He might not know how he felt about Pepper, but one thing was a guarantee. Nobody’d messed with her.

  “I’ll let her tell you what happened. It’s her story. Not mine.”

  Classic Birdie—one of the only people in this town content to mind their own damn business. It had been one of the things he loved about her, way back when, so long ago that memories were sepia-toned, almost as if belonging to another person.

  She set a hand on his shoulder, not a flirtatious caress, but a grip so he couldn’t get away. “You can fool this town, Rhett Valentine, but it’ll be a cold day in the bad place before you get one over on me. We go too far back.”

  “We do,” he answered grimly. Back through broken dreams and bruised hearts.

  Her smile faded as if she read his thoughts. “Guess I should go back to minding my business.”

  “Guess so,” he answered gently.

  Her hand slid down his arm and she squeezed his elbow. Nothing suggestive. Just a quick reminder of their old affection. His body didn’t flinch, nor did it twitch down deep, the way it reacted when Pepper got within a few feet. “You deserve your own happiness, Rhett Valentine,” she murmured, locking him in with her eye contact. “A forever love.”

  Her warm, fixed gaze held nothing but a wish for the best, and that realization steadied him.

  Her look said: Find what I found.

  And for once, just quietly, he’d admit—at least to himself—that fine, he was jealous as hell of Birdie. Not because he wanted her. No. But because he wanted what she had.

  “Heya, Doc Valentine.” Kate buzzed him with her scooter. “I got an animal question.”

  He steeled himself at the “Doc” reference, but wouldn’t correct a kid over misidentifying him as Dad. “Shoot.”

  “Do goldfish like pink castles or blue ones?”

  “Depends.” He rubbed his chin.

  “On if it’s a boy or girl?”

  “Nah.” He kept his features solemn. “On what’s their favorite color.”

  Kate giggled. He winked.

  “Mom, I’m huuuungry,” Will groaned. “Let’s go home.”

  “Come on, sugar. Daddy’s cooking tonight—gratin dauphinois. That’s fancy for cheesy potatoes,” she said to Rhett with a grin.

  “Sounds good, gang.” He saw them off with a half-wave. Six years ago it hurt to watch that woman walk away, but it was nothing compared to the pain if they’d stayed together, never able to fully be what the other person wanted deep inside. No. He didn’t glance back as Birdie walked away.

  That wasn’t the way he was going.

  He whistled under his breath, striding to the dog park, but the song died on his lips as he pushed open the gate. Pepper was gone.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Pepper’s alarm clock ticked on the nightstand, each passing second drilling into her brain.

  Tick.

  Loser.

  Tick.

  Failure.

  Tick. Pathetic. Fifteen minutes past ten. She picked up a pillow and crushed it against her head with a groan. Was Rhett showing up? Was the second hand getting louder?

  She rolled over, scowling at the motivational sticker quotes she’d stuck to her day planner during the Greyhound ride south. “Believe it to achieve it!” “Clear your mind of can’t!” “The path to success starts with the choices you make!”

  Ugh. Talk about the disempowerment of positive thinking. All those chipper, generic phrases left her empty. She threw back the sheets, stalked to the dresser, and slathered on hand lotion. After the slimy run-in with Judge Hogg she’d taken a hot shower and had looked forward to seeing Rhett, to the distraction of sex, the salve of an orgasm—or two.

  Three if it wasn’t too greedy.

  She nibbled the edge of her thumbnail. Waiting wasn’t the only option. Here in the twenty-first century, when a woman wanted a booty call, it was her prerogative to dial one up.

  She moved on to biting her pointer nail. But all her life she’d chased everything, was always in pursuit of one goal or another. For once, she wanted to be pursued, to be the goal, to be chased by a man who’d improve a crappy day with the delicate flick and twirl of his talented fingers.

  Honk.

  “Ugh.” Her groan slipped out on its own accord as the memory crowded away all others. The judge couldn’t have genetically engineered a more perfect insult. She’d never be able to repeat the story and be taken seriously. It was too laughably bad.

  She snapped the lotion lid and wandered to her window. Light flooded between Rhett’s verticals blinds. Faulkner must have caught a whiff of her pathetic yearning. He flew through the curtains, paws scratching the glass with a “Heya neighbor!” woof.

  Busted! She hit the deck, glimpsing a flash of Rhett’s arm on her way down. Her chin grazed the shabby gray carpet. Did he see her lurking? And second, what business did he have taunting her with such a stupidly, sexy forearm? Her heart leapt from her chest like a darn cartoon.

  Tick.

  Tick.

  Seventeen past ten. She commando-crawled beneath the window to her bed and raised an arm, fumbling for her e-reader. This might be crossing the invisible line separating sane from crazy. Time to breathe. Regroup. If Rhett blew her off, so be it. No more mooning around, spying, or impersonating a soldier in the trenches. She’d hang out here on the carpet, read her book, and make her own fun with a deliciously depraved duke.

  Except it was impossible to follow the plot’s rapid-fire drawing room banter when her mind kept wandering from Regency London to present-day small-town Georgia. Plus the floor made her back hurt.

  She tossed the duke book beside her with a muffled groan.

  Life had screwed her, and she’d lain there with teeth-gritted endurance, thinking of England. But then Rhett came along, took her into his arms, urged her to ride faster, harder, deeper, and a realization slammed through her at the same time as her fourth orgasm. She wanted to be back in life’s saddle.
>
  She froze at the sound of furtive rustling outside. Heart thumping, she rose to her knees, head cocked.

  There it came again—muffled steps—either Rhett or an axe murderer. Her pulse accelerated. Someone rapped on the back door and she bounced to her feet, heat flooding her core. Bad guys don’t knock, but Southern gentlemen do.

  Before entering the kitchen, she mussed her hair and artfully tugged her sleeping shirt to one side, exposing a shoulder.

  Show time.

  Rhett stood on the top step holding a brown paper bag, a gleam in his baby blues. Her knees involuntarily flexed.

  “What happened today?” he asked in a firm, low-pitched voice.

  She crossed her arms. “Hello to you, too.”

  “Sorry. I heard you had a run-in with Judge Hogg.” He strode inside, setting the bag on the table. “Lots of rumors, but no facts. What did he do to you?”

  “It’s more what I did.” She swallowed, flushing with shame, as she recounted the story in as few words as possible. When she reached the end, his blue eyes had taken on a steely gray glint.

  “What do you need me to do to that asshole?” he asked. “Teach him a lesson?”

  She’d like nothing more than for Rhett to crack open a can of whoop-ass on Al Hogg. Rhett didn’t walk around in a ’roid rage, but he carried a latent strength in his big frame, a subtle don’t tread on me signal that promised pain if he was messed with.

  He was big. Masculine. Eager to help. If she needed a white knight, he’d be the guy for the job. But that wasn’t in his assigned job duties. Flings don’t get called on to fight for honor. “This is my mess, I’ll deal. I don’t need your protection.”

  “But I like you.” He caressed her face, tracing a finger from her temple to chin. “And that liking extends to your messes, too. And jerks who hurt you.”

  The flash of his grin stopped her heart.

  This was getting dangerous. She couldn’t let him fight her battles, the next thing you know she’d start needing him, worse, relying on him. Better to nip it in the bud.