It Happened on Love Street

by Lia Riley

  Every time he passed over her clit, her legs convulsed. Over and over. He didn’t miss a spot. She was going to pass out. Any second the light at the end of the tunnel would appear, not a bad way to go.

  “Holy shit.”

  She half sat, unsure if she spoke the words out loud. Her orgasms normally snuck through the back door. They were nice but didn’t stay long or make a fuss. This one was the equivalent to a bull in Pamplona after drinking a trough of sangria and ready to plow through a brick wall.

  He sucked again.

  She saw the light. Her hips rose toward it.

  He sucked harder.

  Many lights. Stars. She saw stars.

  He eased two fingers inside her, and she forgot the whole kit and caboodle, everything, including her name, as her body exploded in one long sonic boom.

  She was falling, falling hard without moving a muscle.

  “You okay?”

  She tried answering. It was a moan at best.

  He was hard against her. Wait. She tensed. No. Not that she didn’t want it. She did. But she also wanted to eat an ice cream cone with twenty different scoops. It didn’t mean she should. But a little indulgence wouldn’t kill her.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured into her ear.

  Yeah. He’d gotten that right. He had her in a place she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to leave.

  He brought out a condom from somewhere. It couldn’t have been magic but felt like a sleight of hand. A minute later he was inside her with deep, insistent thrusts. There was no place her attention could wander. He pinned her and groaned.

  “You. Are. Incredible.” His hands braced her hips, leading her to the Land of Lost Her Damn Mind. This was the ah to the ha. A light switch flicking on. What it meant to fall. And it wasn’t scary. Once you gave yourself over to the rush, the adrenaline surge, it wasn’t falling after all. It was flying.

  And with Rhett, she soared.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Early the next morning Rhett parked the Bronco in his driveway. He killed the ignition and glanced over. Pepper drew a star on the window condensation.

  “Time to go see how Kitty managed with Tuesday and J.K. Growling,” she murmured. She’d been quiet for the drive back. They both were lost in their own thoughts.

  He cleared his throat. “I have to swing by Beau’s to collect the dogs and King Henry before opening the clinic. But first, Pepper—”

  “Thank you.” She set her hand over his denim-clad thigh, squeezing the muscle. “Last night…you gave me something I didn’t know that I needed.”

  He laced his fingers with hers. “Same.”

  A rolled-up newspaper was on the floor next to her feet. “Oh no, I was supposed to ask your advice on the second clue.” She’d grabbed the Examiner from the service station where he’d stopped to grab gas and two black coffees on the way home.

  “We have time. Shoot.”

  She opened the front page and cleared her throat: “You know you’re going right when you take a left. There is a place like nowhere on earth.”

  Rhett whistled between his teeth. “That’s a doozy.”

  “It’s diabolical. A place like nowhere on earth?”

  He frowned. The answer danced somewhere in his subconscious, teasing the tip of his tongue. “I need time to think this over.”

  “Stop. If lightning strikes, I’ll be at the dog park all morning.” She leaned in for a kiss and froze halfway. “We’re being watched.”

  “Dammit.” He knew without looking. “Miss Ida May?”

  “That woman has a bloodhound instinct for drama. I’m going to scram before she barges over with a recorder and tries conducting an interview. I need at least two more coffees before I can face that situation.”

  He waited until Pepper slipped through her front door before backing out. Yep. There stood Miss Ida May peering over the rim of her glasses, at the end of her driveway.

  He gave Miss Ida May a short wave before hightailing it out of Love Street. Who knew what the Back Fence would have to say about that? Funny that the harder he tried to steer clear of town gossip, the more he steered into it headlong.

  As he drove to Beau’s, he took the longer, prettier way, winding high over the river bluffs, passing Mars Rock Park. A thought struck him and he pulled onto the road’s shoulder. The medallion clue—it’s out of this world—and when you combine that with a previous reference to a river bottom.

  Bingo.

  He texted Pepper a quick message about his theory. The medallion was in or near Mars Rock.

  The moment he stepped from the truck Fitzgerald, Faulkner, and Steinbeck tore around the side of Beau’s sprawling, two-story home.

  Pepper texted back: Thanks for your help. I think you’re onto something. Tuesday is ready to run out the door this second, but you know me, I’d prefer a deliberative approach ;) Time for some additional research.

  A lot of happy memories packed into that winky face emoticon.

  “Not like you to be an early riser,” Beau said, the dogs bouncing around his legs.

  Rhett cleared his throat. “These troublemakers behave for you?”

  “Of course not.” His friend tried to look irritated to no avail. “Steinbeck attempted to steal my stash of chocolate chip cookies.” A little-known fact was that the mayor was one hell of a baker. If voters tasted Beau’s peach pie, he might have a road to the White House.

  “Thanks for watching them.”

  “Sure thing.” Beau passed over the bag of dog food. “But I’m concerned about rumors. You—”

  “And Pepper, I know,” Rhett said.

  “Al Hogg,” Beau finished at the same time.

  “The judge?” Rhett retorted. “What’s that creep done now?”

  “Maryann Munro said that he was bragging about how it was up to him whether or not you’d see a dime for the construction grant on your mama’s shelter. And he laughed afterward, laughed and laughed.”

  That weaselly fuck. “I’ll handle it,” he said curtly.

  “No blood baths now. He sits on the philanthropic board of the most respected grant-making institution in our region. You know how he is. He’ll want to make a trade.”

  “Remember how he always had the best food in his lunch box at school, and those deals he’d cut with the St. Clair boys?”

  “Not likely to forget.” Beau made a face. “He’d trade Hostess cupcakes for them to give me swirlies in the locker room toilet.”

  “It was sick, the way he’d manipulate people.”

  “He’s been like that his whole life.”

  “Well, Gunnar St. Clair grew up all right. Smuggler’s Cove provides him a good living. He can afford his own treats these days.”

  “Ever wonder how a St. Clair got money for the loan?” Beau crossed his arms. “Personally, I’d rather sleep under an overpass than climb into bed with the Hoggs. So go, hear what Al has to say, but agree to nothing.”

  “Don’t need to tell me twice.” Once in the car, the dogs safely loaded, he backed out, rolling down the window. Needed some fresh air to survive the stink for this call.

  He hit his Bluetooth and called.

  “Hello?”

  “Judge Hogg, Rhett Valentine.” Best to humor the power-hungry worm with formalities.

  A beat. Followed by a noticeable exhalation. “You were on my list of calls to make this afternoon. Aren’t you an early worm.”

  “I want a sit down. Should I come by the office?”

  “Oh no, no, no,” the judge said laconically. “This conversation is off the books.”

  “My office then?”

  Hogg snorted. “And lure me to your quarters? No, I don’t think so.”

  “Jesus, Al.” Rhett dropped all pretense of formality. Al had won state debate and made a habit out of mocking kids who spoke slower, became tongue-tied. “It’s not like I’m going to—”

  “I propose we make a trade.”

  Excerpt from the Back Fence:

  Ev
erland News That You

  Actually Care About

  Classifieds:

  Tea Leaf Readings by Delfi: Have questions about your future? The Ancient Art of Tasseography is at your service! Email me at teawithdelfi@hotdrinks.com or stop into Sweet Brew to make your date with fate today (pls remember that I’m not available by phone).

  Free Sewing Table. Sitting on the curb. 208 Kissing Ct.

  Wanted: One Laz-E-Boy. I’ll pick up. Call Earl. 921-555-9741.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Pepper meandered through Everland Plaza with Tuesday who was rummaging through her oversize purse. “Want a stick of gum?”

  Pepper glanced over and snorted. “Um…that’s a tampon, hon.”

  “God, it’s a mess in here.” Her sister dropped the wrapper and continued rummaging. “ChapStick, teabag, emergency underwear, more ChapStick, ah, gum!”

  Pepper shook her head, and Tuesday popped the proffered stick into her own mouth, then folded the silver foil into a neat square.

  “What’s up? You only chew gum when anxious.”

  “Me? I don’t get anxious,” her sister scoffed.

  “Oh. Right.” Part of Tuesday being Tuesday was her insistence that little things like basic human emotions didn’t apply to her. She didn’t feel sad Mom left. She didn’t get stage fright when having an audition. She didn’t fret over her bills. She never worried.

  Her sister was a liar or a cyborg.

  They resumed walking. Pepper kept control of Kitty’s leash like Rhett’s Puppy Master book had instructed. She was to show the frisky puppy who was the alpha. Easier said than done when all she wanted to do was scoop her up and smother her face with kisses. It was nice to be able to show open affection somewhere.

  “Have you spoken to Dad lately?” Tuesday inspected a long strand of her perfect blond hair for a nonexistent split end.

  “Uh, no.” An invisible antenna poked up in the back of Pepper’s head. The one attuned to the frequency of potential disaster. “Why?”

  “No reason. Just wondering.”

  They continued walking, but the relaxed, summery, isn’t-it-great-to-wear-sundresses-and-strappy-sandals feeling had disappeared. The sidewalk felt as safe as a river of rapidly thinning ice.

  Pepper’s mind rewound and replayed the last couple weeks. All the scenes were focused on Rhett. A few times, after finishing with a dog-walking client, she’d called Dad for a casual check-in but never heard back.

  Her chest tightened at the realization.

  He hadn’t called back.

  It wasn’t uncommon for his answering machine to pick up. Dad wasn’t the type to sit indoors. Or sit. Ever. He and Tuesday shared a boundless capacity for movement, while Pepper had taken after Mom. They preferred curling up on the couch. Reading. A party was a new book, glass of wine, and a few squares of dark chocolate.

  But he’d call back.

  Always.

  What if he tripped on the property? Fell down a ravine? Had a heart attack? Had a heart attack, tripped, and broke his leg out of cell phone reception?

  “Earth to Pepper. Stop catastrophizing.” Tuesday gave a friendly arm squeeze. “He’s not in a ditch somewhere with a broken neck.”

  “I wasn’t thinking that.” Not technically.

  “You should see your face. It’s doing that worried twitchy thing.”

  “I’m scared something is wrong.” This wasn’t the time for sisterly banter. “He hasn’t called me back even though I left messages.”

  “Me neither. But he mentioned he was taking a vacation.”

  “A what?” Pepper tried processing this unexpected information, but it was like her hard drive was full. “Dad doesn’t take vacations.”

  Tuesday shrugged. “Guess he does now.”

  “Where’d he go?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  “Who’d he go with?” She pushed.

  “Do I look like the Spanish Inquisition?” Tuesday glanced at her yellow and blue romper. Only she could make an outfit like that stylish. “I told him to have fun. That’s it. End of story. We’ll hear from him soon. He’s an adult and doesn’t need us baby-sitting him twenty-four seven.“ Tuesday gave her a teasing push. “I need to scoot to the Examiner office. The next clue should be out soon, and I want first dibs.”

  Tuesday was gone in a flash, and Pepper stood alone, anxiety bubbling inside.

  Kitty raised her nose, tail wagging.

  “Well, looks like it’s just you and me, kid.” Pepper smiled. “When in doubt of what to do next, why not have a coffee?”

  Inside Sweet Brew, Elizabeth Martin hunched over a laptop at the corner table and waved her over with a bright smile.

  “I’m not interrupting, am I?”

  “No, all done. Great timing.” The pretty woman shut the laptop. The afternoon light fell just so through the window, making her thick, black hair extra glossy. “Mayor B asked me to proofread one of his articles. He’s started a monthly column in the Back Fence and takes it very seriously. It’s going live tonight, and he didn’t get it to me until twenty minutes ago.”

  “Oh dear. One of those moments where ‘a lack of planning on his part shouldn’t be your emergency’ sort of things?”

  “Guuurl.” Elizabeth’s smile widened. Her dentist must love how well she represented their business. “Enough about my boring work.” She leaned closer, her voice taking on a conspiratorial air. “I hope you don’t mind me prying. But it appears that you’ve captured someone’s heart.”

  “I have?” Pepper tried playing dumb.

  “Rhett Valentine.”

  “Oh? Hah. No. He just gives me tips for the dog-walking service,” she responded by rote. “We’re neighbors. It’s a geographical proximity thing.”

  “That’s the official word on the street, but I’d hoped that you and I were becoming better friends,” Elizabeth wheedled, dropping her voice. “What’s the unofficial version?”

  Pepper hesitated. Elizabeth exuded such a friendly, inviting air. It was tempting to open up, confide. “Rhett’s private.” She hesitated.

  “Can’t fault him for that.” Elizabeth smoothed a finger over one perfectly sculpted brow. “The town means well, but they’ve been—how do I put this—enthusiastic about championing his love life.”

  “I guess they feel bad that some harpy left him at the altar.”

  “Harpy?” Why did Elizabeth squint like that? “Was that his choice of words?”

  “No.” Pepper hesitated. “He didn’t use that exact turn of phrase.” She’d stuck in that flourish to the narrative, because how could a woman leave Rhett alone at the altar? It made no sense. Birdie existed in the background of Rhett’s story, a ghost of lovers past. A series of unexplained questions because there were no photos, no hints around Rhett’s home. Had she been taller, shorter, fatter, thinner? Was she prettier? Sexier? Just…more?

  “Good. Because that so-called harpy was me.”

  Pepper laughed uneasily. “Yeah, right.”

  “Hardest thing I ever did.” Elizabeth sounded serious. “Trust me, girl, when it comes to confusion and love, I wrote the book.”

  “But he was engaged to—oh my God…” Pepper stared, gobsmacked. Her breath vanished in a gust. “Elizabeth, wait. Are you Birdie?”

  “His old nickname for me.” She shrugged. “Look, it was a long time ago now. I panicked. It was stupid. I don’t regret calling off our wedding, but wish it could have been under better circumstances. I had to do what was best for me. And him. And neither of us regret it.”

  A short awkward silence ensued.

  “But…” Eloquence flew out the window. Pepper was at a complete loss. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too.” They stared at each other. There was warmth there, and friendship, but also that moment of tacit understanding where it’s silently acknowledged that they’d both touched the same man.

  “You’re not awful,” Pepper blurted through a pang of jealousy. “In this scenario you are suppose
d to be a home wrecker or deranged.”

  Elizabeth laughed, a trifle uneasily. “Trust me, after two kids, I’m deranged all right.”

  “But how do we do this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Be friends.”

  Elizabeth gave her a long look. “Honey, Rhett Valentine is a good man. He simply wasn’t my true love. And I wasn’t his.”

  An awkward silence grew and grew.

  “You think I’m terrible, don’t you?” One more good thing about Elizabeth, she wasn’t a word mincer.

  “You couldn’t be terrible if you tried,” Pepper answered simply.

  “Oh, believe you me, I’ve had my moments.” She smiled faintly. “Except that’s when I tell myself, ‘Elizabeth, you know what? There’s not a woman alive who hasn’t.’” She straightened, rapping the table with her knuckles. “But you seem confused. You know what I do when I get clouded thinking these days?”

  “Have a drink? Four drinks? A lobotomy?” Pepper held Kitty tighter. It was either that or start pacing. “Nothing in my life makes sense.”

  Elizabeth cupped a hand to her mouth and called to the barista, the woman behind the counter with the pink shoulder-length hair parted down the middle. “Hey, Delfi! Can you brew one of your famous cups of Earl Grey? I have a friend who needs a reading.”

  Delfi glanced at the clock with her preternaturally wide, unblinking eyes. “There is time.” She signaled to a hand-painted beaded curtain depicting Botticelli’s Birth of Venus. “Enter there,” Delfi intoned in her softly modulated voice. “I’ll join in a moment. Begin emptying your mind.”

  “I’d have better luck licking my own elbow.”

  “Trust me, this will help. Delfi possesses remarkable insight,” Elizabeth said, reaching to take Kitty from her. “Well, trust me as much as you can trust an evil ex who has sinister designs on your future happiness.”

  “I see where you’re going with this.” Pepper grinned despite herself. “When I step through that curtain I’m going to fall inside a big hole that’s been cleverly concealed by well-placed tree boughs, huh?”