Startled laughter bubbled from deep in her belly. Guess today had that little bit more suck to give.
Life. Hideous and yet hilarious.
***
The bawling woman collapsed forward, face-planting against Rhett’s chest. Her forceful sobs combined with hysterical cackling reverberated through his ribs. A damsel in distress was one thing, but a knockout in a soaked-through shirt quite another.Shit.His mouth was like sawdust as he went to encircle her rigid body, drawing her close, trying to keep every movement slow, deliberate, until, at last, she melted, gripping his shirtfront. Slow-boiling awareness spread through his middle. When was the last time he’d held another person?
She felt good. Incredible, really.
It took effort to dig out his arsenal and find the appropriate defense.
Sympathy.
Only a piece of shit would take advantage in this situation. His teeth fastened to his lower lip. He might be a man of faults, but hadn’t descended to scumbag depths. With a free hand, he surreptitiously hunted his back pockets for a handkerchief or Kleenex. Nothing but a crumpled—but clean—napkin from Smuggler’s Cove. Best he could come up with on short notice.
“Here.” He stuck it out.
“Stop!” Her hands warded him off. “Turn around. Don’t look. I mean it.”
“Excuse me?” The napkin edges disintegrated in the rain.
“Oh God, fine.” She snatched the sodden wad and dabbed her nose muttering something that sounded like “so embarrassing.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “What sort of bribe would entice you to pretend that I’m not here?”
“Can’t do that. And you—quit.” He jerked his head at Steinbeck, who halted, mid-belly creep toward the woman’s purse. She must have chocolate in there. He answered that question at least once a week. Yes, chocolate was poisonous to dogs; no, it’s not an old wives’ tale. It contained theobromine, a stimulant that can mimic caffeine that may affect a canine’s heart, central nervous system, and kidneys. And he had a greedy-guts of a dog who seemed to have a death wish anytime a Snickers presented itself within a fifteen-foot radius.
“Sure you can,” she ground out. “Gather your dogs, keep walking.”
“And leave a woman crying alone in the rain? ’Fraid not. Don’t blame me, blame my genetics. Too many generations of manners-instilling Southern mamas.”
She forced what was an obviously humoring laugh and moved to collect her bag. He got there first.
“Who can I call to give you a lift?” Make her a cup of tea. Take her down a notch, or ten. “I’d offer you a ride myself but I’m on foot. Rain came faster than expected.” That’s when he realized how long they’d been talking. In public. Where anyone could see.
His jaw tightened as he scanned the road. Empty. Or so it seemed. But one never knew when they were under surveillance in Everland.
Time to get moving before they attracted unwanted attention, but her own stare fixed on a distant point with an unreadable expression. “I don’t know anyone less than eight hundred miles away.”
Hell. Like it or not, this situation had him by the balls.
“What’s your name?” He shoved his hands into his back pockets and addressed the rain, not wanting to gawk when she was this raw. He was damned if he stayed, damned if he left, so might as well be a fucking gentleman.
She rubbed her temples before nodding, the protocol of introductions seeming to help snap her from her stupor. “Of course. Sorry. I’m Pepper. Pepper Knight.”
“Well, Pepper. Pepper Knight. Welcome to Everland. I’m Rhett. Rhett Valentine.” Her handshake happened so fast that if he’d blinked, he’d have missed it. “There. Guess you know me now.”
“Your name’s Rhett?” Her brows vanished beneath a thick curtain of bangs.
He bristled at the note of incredulity.The Gone with the Windreference would be coming in five…four…
“Like Rhett Butler?” She made the connection faster than most.
At least she didn’t tack on the usual “Frankly, my dear…” quip.
“Margaret Mitchell published that book in nineteen thirty-six, and it was one of my mama’s favorites, but truth be told, there’ve been Rhetts in my family since fifty years before that.” He sound snappish, but that’s what you get for living thirty-five years as a man named Rhett in the South.
“Only in Georgia.” Her gaze slid across his features with fresh interest before she began walking.
He fell in step behind her, careful to keep his dogs under control.Jesus. The view from the back was as enticing as the front. Pepper had more curves than the letters, paring the alphabet to the essentials, omitting everything bute,x, andy. Not that it mattered. No, just an observation. “What are you going to do?” he called.
