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 theEverland 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.
