“I should go in,” she whispered, her voice husky.
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak yet. She didn’t invite me inside, and I didn’t press. I wasn’t that much of an idiot.
“We’re still good together.” The words escaped before I could think better of them.
A sad smile curved her lips. “Heat was never our problem, Rhett.”
That stung, but I couldn’t argue. Our issues had never been in the bedroom. It was everything outside of it that had fallen apart.
“Thank you for dinner.” She fished her keys from her purse. “It was… nice.”
As she turned toward the door, something inside me panicked at the thought of her walking away. “Can I fix your porch?”
She paused, key halfway to the lock, one brow arched. “Is that a euphemism?”
A laugh burst out of me, genuine and surprised. “No. It’s just…” I gestured toward the sagging steps, the rotting railing. “I never got around to it before, and I find myself with some time off because I’m not up to full duty yet.” I swallowed hard. “I feel like I owe you that much for all the shit I put you through.”
She hesitated, studying me with those eyes that had always seen right through me. Then, finally, “Okay.”
“Great.” I nodded, already mentally calculating materials and time. I could juggle this with my other obligations over the next few weeks. And maybe, just maybe, I could convince her we could be repaired as well.
Ten
Pepper
I’d opened Kiss My Grits this morning with a sense of dread, certain that Mrs. Donnelly had seen me making out with Rhett against the door last night and had already spread the news all over town. But I’d made it through the breakfast rush with nothing more than the same array of comments about the auction that I’d been fielding in the days leading up to our date. My girls were the only ones who knew the date had happened. Well, and anyone Rhett had told himself. I was especially grateful that he’d taken us out of town for dinner, because I knew from experience I’d have heard something from every single person coming through the door if we’d been seen out together, and I wasn’t up for any more commentary from the peanut gallery about whatever the hell I had going on with my ex-husband.
But here we were in that lull between the breakfast rush and the start of the lunch crowd, and no one had said a word. Not even my usually eagle-eyed staff. I was finally starting to relax enough to breathe again.
Unfortunately, the slow down also gave me time to think about last night. About the dinner. About that kiss that had almost been a whole lot more. That whole interlude was gonna live rent-free in my brain for a good long while. It was a stark reminder that I’d been with no one since my divorce, and I craved physical touch. More, I craved Rhett’s touch. Because damn it, he still knew how to play me like a master musician. One of the benefits of having been each other’s first. We’d gone through all that heady, delicious exploration together.
I hadn’t been able to make myself cross that bridge with anyone else. Not a single soul since the divorce papers had been signed. Not for lack of opportunity—just lack of desire to let someone see me that vulnerable again.
I didn’t know how to begin to build that kind of trust with another person. That kind of bone-deep knowing that came from growing up together, from fumbling through those first awkward encounters together, learning each other’s bodies with reverent hands and whispered guidance.
Which had left me with a whole lot of pent up desire that had nearly combusted against my kitchen door. The rational part of me knew it was better that we’d been interrupted. Better for my sanity, better for whatever fragile thing was rebuilding between us. But the lonely, needy part—well, she’d kept me up well into the night, playing the whole thing over and over, until I’d given in and hauled out my vibrator to find some relief.
It hadn’t helped. Because I’d been close enough to Rhett last night that the heaviness of his erection had pressed against me, and I remembered every single thing I was missing. The way his breath would catch when I touched him just right. How he’d whisper my name like a prayer against my skin. The perfect weight of him above me. Damn it. Running a diner was exhausting enough without adding sexual frustration to my list of daily challenges.
I grabbed the coffeepot and headed toward the back corner where Bud, Harlan, and Jimmy had taken up residence as they did every weekday. The Three Wise Men, I called them, because between them they had about two hundred years of opinions about everything under the sun.
“More coffee, gentlemen?” I held up the pot.
“You bet, Pepper.” Bud pushed his mug forward. “Did you hear about the ruckus over at the Nicholson place last night?”
I topped off his cup. “Can’t say that I did.”
“Raccoons got into their trash again.” Jimmy’s weathered face crinkled with amusement. “Third time this month. Martha’s threatening to move back to the city.”
“Wouldn’t last a week,” Harlan snorted, folding his newspaper. “She’d miss gossiping with the rest of the church ladies too much.”
I moved around the table, refilling their mugs. “Speaking of gossip, anything interesting in today’s paper?”
“Same old, same old.” Harlan tapped the front page. “Though they did a nice write-up about that bachelor auction. Raised over fifteen thousand for the fire department.”
My hand trembled slightly, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim of Jimmy’s cup.
“Careful there, darlin’,” Jimmy said. “Though I suppose I’d be nervous too if I’d just spent fifteen hundred dollars on my ex-husband.”
