“Constitutional ratification is a hoot.” She shrugged. “Told you I was dry.”
“Good Lord, she is a lawyer, isn’t she?” Lou Ellen announced to Rhett. “But she’s got pluck, and that counts for a good deal in my book.”
“I also have this plucky pet peeve about being discussed like I’m not here. Your turn to get cross-examined.” Pepper fired back, chewing the corner of her lip, although her dancing eyes told she enjoyed herself. “Tell me something about Rhett, when he was a little boy.”
“Oh. Yes.” Lou Ellen clearly relished the chance. “Let me see. My favorite memory would have to be the time Rhett lost his first tooth.”
“Not that one,” he said with a groan. It was surreal sitting here shooting the breeze with these two. He loved his sister, and he, well, he liked Pepper. A lot.
“It’s not every day someone decides to rid themselves of a tooth by jumping off the roof.”
“I’m not the only kid who ever believed it.” Fuck. What if he more than liked Pepper?
“Believed what?” Pepper knitted her brows.
“Superman underwear could make you fly.” How could he be thinking about love and his childhood underwear in the same thought? Any second his sister was going to take one look at him and know exactly what was in his mind. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.
“You went on your roof in your underwear?” Pepper asked, still too confused about his childhood antics to notice that he was sweating bullets.
“Thank you!” Lou Ellen drained her bottle and raised it in a “cheers” gesture, relishing the moment. “Rhett, honey, kindly illuminate us on your eight-year-old thought process.”
He crossed his knife and fork on the edge of his plate. He was willing to play along if it kept the focus on his internal crisis. “Fine. I jumped.”
“Why?” Lou Ellen prodded.
He raised an eye at Pepper. “Does this qualify as leading the witness?”
She covered a hand over her mouth, smothering a grin. “Sustain. It’s relevant to the story.”
He feigned a heavy sigh, playing up his embarrassment. “Turns out Superman underwear doesn’t help you fly.”
The doorbell rang.
“Now who?” he muttered under his breath.
“Goodness.” Lou Ellen poured another glass. “It’s like the Atlanta airport around here, little brother. And here I’ve been worried sick that you were turning into one of those bearded recluses that you read about.” She turned to Pepper. “You’re good for him.”
“Me? I’m just here for professional development.” Pepper repeated guiltily. But she was trying to cover, for him, and that meant everything.
“Yeeeeeees. Dog walking. I imagine there’s a lot to learn,” Lou Ellen deadpanned.
Rhett wanted to signal to Pepper there was no point pretending. Lou Ellen saw through their façade, probably took her all of three seconds. But as long as she thought he was having a fling, she’d miss that part where he might well be falling in love. Better to lose the battle and win the war. “I’m going to get the door.”
As he left the kitchen, he overheard Lou Ellen saying, “Tell me, how many children do you want? Three? Four? Nine?”
Jesus. He coughed. His sister was a Russian doll of nosiness. But he couldn’t help but be curious. Did Pepper want kids? Did he?
What the hell was going on?
He opened the screen door. No one was there. At the end of the street, an unfamiliar car tapped the brake lights before taking the corner too fast.
With a sinking heart he walked to the bottom of the porch stairs. Sure enough, there was a cardboard box. It thumped twice.
He squatted and opened it up. Inside a gray puppy stared up, blinking in the porch light. His neck corded as his chest heaved in a deep sigh. This happened more than he liked. People got into life trouble. Money got tight. Eviction notices. And it got too hard to support a pet. Word had spread around the town that you could drop off an animal at Rhett’s house, no questions asked. There wasn’t a rescue shelter in easy driving distance.
Yet.
He scooped up the puppy. Tonight the little girl would stay with him. Faulkner, Fitzgerald, and Steinbeck wouldn’t mind. They were used to small frightened animals.
