“Crap. Kitty!” Pepper broke from their kiss and jumped from the bed, stumbling because her underwear had been pulled around her knees. “I have to let her out. Go do all the jobs. I am the worst pet mom ever, forgot I even had a dog. Maybe I should have gone for a fish instead. A nice geriatric fish looking to live out his or her final weeks from the comfort of a bowl on my kitchen counter. What was I thinking? I can barely be responsible for myself, and am still sorting out how to fix a bungled future, not to mention the seriously confusing feelings for—”
“Pepper. Breathe.” Rhett stood and threw on a gray shirt, walking after her. She was going to pass out if she didn’t stop talking. “Kitty is fine.”
Sure enough, her puppy sat alert, watchful but not frightened. Steinbeck and Faulkner flanked either side while Fitzgerald guarded the front like a sentinel.
“They were guarding her. Look! They love her.” Pepper clapped her hands, clearly touched.
He zoned out at her, before giving his head a half-shake. No point letting a single thought drift in the L-word direction. “Grab Kitty and we’ll take her in the backyard for a pee. It’s Sunday. Everyone on Love Street will be at church except for us heathens.”
“Good thinking,” Pepper said, opening the latch. Once in the yard, Kitty bounded to the fence and sniffed along the perimeter, the three retrievers attending her every step.
Pepper paused to admire his kayak before glancing through the tool shed’s window.
“Your dog house is pink?”
“Got left on the curb not long before you arrived. I figured I’d use the wood for a beach bonfire at Labor Day.”
“Or you could give it to me for Kitty. Or, I don’t know. Maybe not.” She frowned thoughtfully. “I’m not looking to stay here and put down roots. In fact becoming a fur mama gives me courage, because wherever I go, now I won’t be alone.”
There it was. An unexpected downside to her falling head-over-heels for a dog. “But you could stay,” he blurted, the words flying out like they had a life of their own. “You know. If you wanted. Check out local opportunities.”
Her mouth went as round as her eyes. “In Everland?”
He shrugged. “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Thisisa semi-not-awful place.”
“Yeah.” She appeared to mull it over. “Inhabited by semi-okay people.” She shook her head. “But let’s be realistic. There’s nothing here for me to do. The only firm is well established, and the remaining lawyers are independent contractors scooping up the scraps.”
He wanted her to stay, pure and simple. All he had to do was figure out some genius plan.
“Let’s dig out your dog house,” he said. Not exactly genius. But a start. Putting down a rudimentary foundation.
He had a lot of shit in the shed. The doghouse was half buried behind some punching bags and wedged between old plywood odds and ends. When he maneuvered it toward the door, it wedged on an old windsurfer propped against the wall.
“Push harder.” Her soft grunt fell straight to the dirty side of his imagination. “Put your back into it.”
“I’m doing my best. It’s too big.” He cocked a brow. “Won’t get out. It’s stuck.” He hammed up the last two lines until she collapsed into a pool of helpless giggles.
“It can’t stay like this forever.” She cackled even as she grimaced from the weight. “Go back or come out.”
“Hello?” A woman’s voice drifted from inside Pepper’s house next door.
Pepper froze, going whiter than drying plaster.
“Hellooooo?” A rusty squeak carried over the fence. The back door to her house was opening. “Pepper? You home?”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no.” Pepper ducked, covering her head as if to avoid a punch. “It’s Tuesday,” she hissed.
Confusion swirled through him. “No, it’s not, Trouble. It’s only Sunday. Easy, before you give yourself a—”
“No.” She took his face between her hands. The whites of her eyes rang around her amber irises. “Listen. You aren’t hearing me. It. Is. Tuesday.”
Had she knocked something on her head in his shed? “Last night was Saturday. You came here for dinner.”
She slapped a damp palm over his mouth. “There’s no time to play Who’s on First. My sister’s name is Tuesday. She is here. I heard her calling my name from the house.”
“Tuesday?” He frowned. “You’re sister’s name is Tuesday? What sort of a name is Tuesday?”
“I know, right? Especially if you were born on Friday,” a husky feminine voice drawled.
He glanced over one shoulder. A striking, platinum-haired young woman peered over the fence. She plucked the Dum Dum sucker from the corner of her mouth and hiked up her gold aviator sunglasses to reveal a pair of eyes that had a familiar tilt at the edge. “Heya, sis,” she said, arching a brow. “And nice shirt there, handsome.”
He glanced at his bare chest and low-slung sweat pants.
“What on Earth are you doing here?” Pepper squeaked.
Tuesday popped the lollipop back between her lips, her curious gaze boring into them. “I think the real question iswhoare you doing here?”
