“Yeah. You mentioned before.” He blinked impatiently. “What’s that supposed to mean?” For one brutal moment it seemed not only possible butplausiblethat Pepper blurted out the story of last night to Birdie. Because fate would be that big of an asshole.
“I like her,” Birdie said in her usual decisive manner. “And Judge Hogg is a giant ass, pardon my French.”
Kate slammed the brakes on her scooter so hard her colorful braided pigtails bounced. “Assis French, Mama?”
“Go on you, and don’t let me hear you use that word unless you want to suck a bar of Dial.” She clucked her tongue. “They don’t look it, but they’re always listening.”
“What happened?” He was in full protective mode, the conversation from Sweet Brew snapping into place. He might not know how he felt about Pepper, but one thing was a guarantee. Nobody’d messed with her.
“I’ll let her tell you what happened. It’s her story. Not mine.”
Classic Birdie—one of the only people in this town content to mind their own damn business. It had been one of the things he loved about her, way back when, so long ago that memories were sepia-toned, almost as if belonging to another person.
She set a hand on his shoulder, not a flirtatious caress, but a grip so he couldn’t get away. “You can fool this town, Rhett Valentine, but it’ll be a cold day in the bad place before you get one over on me. We go too far back.”
“We do,” he answered grimly. Back through broken dreams and bruised hearts.
Her smile faded as if she read his thoughts. “Guess I should go back to minding my business.”
“Guess so,” he answered gently.
Her hand slid down his arm and she squeezed his elbow. Nothing suggestive. Just a quick reminder of their old affection. His body didn’t flinch, nor did it twitch down deep, the way it reacted when Pepper got within a few feet. “You deserve your own happiness, Rhett Valentine,” she murmured, locking him in with her eye contact. “A forever love.”
Her warm, fixed gaze held nothing but a wish for the best, and that realization steadied him.
Her look said:Find what I found.
And for once, just quietly, he’d admit—at least to himself—that fine, he was jealous as hell of Birdie. Not because he wanted her. No. But because he wanted what shehad.
“Heya, Doc Valentine.” Kate buzzed him with her scooter. “I got an animal question.”
He steeled himself at the “Doc” reference, but wouldn’t correct a kid over misidentifying him as Dad. “Shoot.”
“Do goldfish like pink castles or blue ones?”
“Depends.” He rubbed his chin.
“On if it’s a boy or girl?”
“Nah.” He kept his features solemn. “On what’s their favorite color.”
Kate giggled. He winked.
“Mom, I’m huuuungry,” Will groaned. “Let’s go home.”
“Come on, sugar. Daddy’s cooking tonight—gratin dauphinois. That’s fancy for cheesy potatoes,” she said to Rhett with a grin.
“Sounds good, gang.” He saw them off with a half-wave. Six years ago it hurt to watch that woman walk away, but it was nothing compared to the pain if they’d stayed together, never able to fully be what the other person wanted deep inside. No. He didn’t glance back as Birdie walked away.
That wasn’t the way he was going.
He whistled under his breath, striding to the dog park, but the song died on his lips as he pushed open the gate. Pepper was gone.
