“Haven’t seen you at the store yet.”
“Store?” Pepper blinked up into the cheerful face of the pig’s owner.
“The General’s General Store off Main. Where we sell everything from eggs and milk to Ouija boards and socks.”
“He’s the face of the operation. I’m the brains.” Colonel Jim placed a hand to the side of his mouth, stage whispering: “He’s not allowed to talk to new customers.” Returning to a normal volume, he continued, “We’re a high-end small goods shop providing Everland with artisanal foods, household items, and books.”
“Sounds good. I’ll keep you in mind the next time I want to make a milk shake and conduct a séance while keeping my feet warm.”
“Ha. You’re funny. I like it.” The General’s grin revealed two gold teeth. “Now tell us what everyone here is thinking but only we’re men enough to ask.”
Colonel Jim rubbed his hands. “What’s the scoop between you and Cupid?”
Her brows knit. “Who?”
“Rhett Valentine, of course.”
The General broke in, “The one. The only. The legend.”
Pepper shook her head, feigning ignorance. It didn’t matter if it was Moose Bottom, Maine, or Everland, Georgia, small-town gossip spread like weeds. Better not to give it fertilizer. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He rubbed his beard. “You two are front page news.”
“Today’s front page news is about the sudden spike in pecan prices.” Indeed, the headline had readNUTS ARE GROWING. Someone at the paper either had a sense of humor or was completely oblivious.
“Not the birdcage liner.” Colonel Jim waved a dismissive hand. “The Back Fence.”
“The Back Fe—”
“Well, well, well, look who it is.” The General cut her off with ill-disclosed glee.
Colonel Jim practically bounced. “Cupid at twelve o’clock.”
Pepper froze at the nickname. “Rhett’s here?”
“Walking this way.” The General nodded. “Want to wager how many times he’s turned up here in the last year? If you bet zero, you’d be a winner. You’ve caught his attention, missy.”
“Stop it,” she hissed. “He isn’t here to see me.”
“Then why is he standing right behind you?” Colonel Jim murmured. “Hello, Sport.”
“Nice try.” They were playing her. Sometimes it took a while, but she always caught on. These guys were having fun at her expense.
“Wondered if I’d find you here.” A molasses-rich drawl drizzled down her spine.
Rhett. He really was here.
She turned slowly. With any luck her flushed cheeks would look like a by-product of the heat and not his inadvertent morning peep show. He wore a dress shirt, vest, and tie with a pair of dark denim jeans, his eyes bright behind his thick frames, his unruly cowlick swooping over his quizzical forehead.
Stop ogling. Speak.
“Hello.” Her mouth lifting in what hopefully passed for a casual, neighborly smile.
“You’ve got something there.” His fingers skimmed the shoulder of her T-shirt, brushing her neck almost unperceptively. “There.” He held up a white puff. “Cottonwood seed.” His lips curled in the corner, the half grin holding no hint that the quick touch was anything more than an accidental brush. It would be easy to dismiss except for the invisible wave of tension that connected their gazes—hot and unspoken.
She stirred and fiddled with her hair elastic. “Checking on me?”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest, a paper cup of coffee in one hand. “I hit up Sweet Brew. Thought I’d come over and see how things were going on your first day.” He had perfect posture. Somewhere, once upon a time, a Southern mama had driven all signs of slouch from those shoulders. “Wanted to report to Norma on your success when I go visit her in the rehab center in a few hours.”
