Rhett reached for his travel coffee mug and guzzled. “Don’t you get sick of staring at that damn screen all day?”
“About as sick as you get of chopping off dog balls,” Beau fired back. “Besides, I started a mayoral Twitter account and it gets a shitload of interaction. Hard to keep up.”
“Twitter?” Rhett chuckled under his breath. “Who the hell in Everland’s on Twitter?”
“Try a thousand new followers since I opened the account last Thursday.”
“Bullshit.”
“I’m a man of the people, promised a—”
“Young, fresh voice. I remember. Had six of your yard signs at my house, and two at the office. What are people calling you these days?” He snapped his fingers. “The Prince of Everland?”
“What people? I know you started it.”
“Payback for Cupid.”
Beau grunted and returned to his phone.
“But come on, you can’t work twenty-four seven. ”
“If you don’t want to talk, don’t,” Beau said, flicking up an eyebrow. “But don’t pass the buck to me.”
“Fair enough.” After Beau’s wife drowned during a sailing trip in the Bahamas, he’d retreated further and further into himself. Rhett wanted to help but didn’t know how to help, except to give space and have patience. “But why sling crap on an afternoon like this? The clouds are moving on. The sun is out. We’re going sailing, and no one’s watching the clock for us back home.”
“Amen.”
The two traded fist bumps as they entered the covered bridge.
“Fuck!” Rhett yelled, slowing as they hit the other side. A small sedan had crashed into a tree. Thick, blue-gray smoke poured from under the hood.
“Call nine-one-one,” he shouted to Beau, leaping from the driver’s side.
“On it.” Beau had the phone pressed to his ear.
Rhett’s stomach muscles clenched at the familiar bumper sticker.RUFF LOVE PET WALKERS.Shit. No. Not Norma. She’d been Mama’s best friend. Practically family.
“Norma!” he shouted. “Norma, you okay?”
“Rhett?” a high quavering voice answered. “Rhett Valentine? Is that you?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
Norma was strapped in her seat. The airbag had deployed.
“It was the damnedest thing,” she mumbled, pushing back her purple sequined ball cap that readBAD HAIR DAY. “A dang armadillo tried to cross into the road. I swerved and this here tree was in my way.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Rhett waved two in her face.
“How ’bout countin’ this one instead, sugar?” She popped him the bird.
Rhett gave a relieved laugh. She appeared her usual feisty self. “Can you move?”
“My leg.” She grimaced. “I think it’s broken. And would you talk about terrible timing? I’ve signed on three new clients. What on earth am I going to do now? Mrs. Johnson is doing the chemo. She can’t be walking Ziggy, he’s far too strong. Ol’ John Drummond has a kidney trouble and Wolfgang is a real pistol.”
He liked Norma. She reminded him of Mama, the way she always thought of others. No surprise that she’d be here with a busted leg worrying about her elderly clients. The thought made his gut ache. He couldn’t do much about the world’s problems, but he could put Norma’s mind at ease.
“Let me worry about the dog walking,” he said. “Right now I want you to focus on holding my hand, and if you see any light, stay the hell away from it, you hear?”
She laced her fingers with his and gave a squeeze. “You are agoodboy,” she said, closing her eyes, jaw set tight. “Always were.”
As the ambulance siren rose in the distance, an idea formed. His brows drew together as he sat back on his heels.
Guess he’d have to start thinking about his new neighbor after all.
