Chapter 1
One
Rhett
Sunday morning was a dicey time to come back to Huckleberry Creek.
There was a narrow window when folks would be tied up with church and brunch, when I could sneak in under the proverbial radar.
I was already on my mama’s shit list for not telling her about my shoulder injury and the stint in rehab up at Walter Reed.
The last thing I needed was her finding out I’d gone anywhere but straight home the moment I hit the city limits.
But I needed some time to adjust and get my head on straight before I saw her.
The transition back to civilian life had been a rough one.
Healing up from the multiple surgeries required to repair the damage from the bullet and shrapnel that had jacked up my shoulder meant I hadn’t come back to town with the rest of my unit.
They’d gotten the parade and the American flag buntings and brouhaha.
I’d missed all that, which was A-okay with me.
I didn’t want the fuss. I just wanted to get back to some semblance of normal.
I wanted to get back a lot of things.
It was my only excuse for parking down the street from Kiss My Grits, the diner that was Pepper’s pride and joy.
It was a hub of the community, and she was beloved by all.
I knew she’d be holding court from the kitchen she’d kept open so she could chat with customers while she cooked.
I wasn’t planning to go inside. Not yet.
She wouldn’t like being blindsided, and in all these months, I still hadn’t sorted out my approach for exactly how I’d convince her to give me a second chance.
Hell, I didn’t even know if she was available to pursue.
I just… wanted to lay eyes on her again because she was the only thing I’d been able to think about during my deployment.
I chose my parking spot carefully, grabbing a space in the block that was mostly offices—lawyers and accountants and the like—none of which were open today.
Fewer Lookie Lous who might spot me as I hurried down the street, shoulders hunched into my jacket against the bite in the air that said autumn was on the way.
The signs were everywhere in the leaves turning gold and orange overhead and the pots of mums and window boxes full of bright-faced pansies that brightened up the businesses along Main Street.
When I hit the expanse of plate glass that was the diner’s front window, I paused near the door, pretending I was reading the menu posted there.
Instead, I looked beyond it to the interior, with its black-and-white checkered floor and red vinyl booths.
Because it was Sunday, the place was packed.
But I could just see past the row of patrons occupying the barstools that lined the counter to where Pepper moved with balletic grace at the stove.
Her long auburn hair was bundled up into a knot at her nape, though wisps of it had escaped to curl around her ears from the heat of the kitchen.
I couldn’t see her gray-green eyes from here, but I could imagine them easily, sparking with heat—of temper, of passion.
The Italian was always close to the surface in her.
It was one of the many things I loved about her. Even now.
I wanted to linger, but I knew better. Any second now, someone was going to look out the window and spot me.
They’d either think I was some kind of creeper, or they’d recognize me, and I’d get sucked into some kind of social shit.
But I didn’t turn back toward my rental car, instead finding myself walking further down the street toward Plot Twist, my sister’s bookstore.
It wouldn’t be open today, but her apartment was above the shop.
Maybe I could surprise her and talk her into some breakfast.
Circling around to the alley, I trotted up the stairs and knocked on the door.
My sister was an early riser, so I didn’t worry about waking her.
When she yanked open the door wearing nothing but an oversized man’s shirt, my easy “Surprise,” died on my lips, and my protective big brother instincts went into overdrive.
Her hair was a wreck, cheeks flushed, and she had that deer-in-headlights look that said I’d interrupted something.
“Rhett? What are you doing here?”
I pushed past her into the apartment before she could try to block me. The scent of fresh coffee hit my nose, along with something else. Something masculine that made my hackles rise.
“I wanted to check in with you before I headed over to see Mom and Dad.”
Her voice went high and squeaky. “When did you even get back? And what’s up with you not notifying anybody?”
I shrugged, trying to play it casual even as I scanned the apartment for signs of whoever she had stashed away. “I’ve been going through some shit. Didn’t want y’all to worry.”
She hugged me tight, but I could feel the tension thrumming through her. The sound of running water from her bathroom confirmed my suspicions.
“Who’s here?”
“No one.” The lie came too quick. “I turned on the shower to warm up, and Cliff had a hissy fit for his breakfast, so I came out here to fix that and start coffee before I hopped in.”
Cliffhanger, her massive cat, was indeed picking at his breakfast, his tail twitching.
But my sister was lying through her teeth, and we both knew it.
The shower was still running, and her face was flushed with more than just embarrassment.
Some guy was in there, and she was trying to hustle me out before I found out who.
“I’d love to catch up. Why don’t you go grab us a table at the diner or Pie Hard, and I’ll meet you for breakfast after I get dressed?”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Why can’t I just wait here until you’re ready?”
She shifted from foot to foot, practically vibrating with nervous energy. “Because it’s Sunday morning, and you know how crowded everywhere will be. Might as well get in line already. Just text me where you land.”
The protective big brother in me wanted to plant myself on her couch and wait to see which jackass crawled out of her bathroom.
But I’d been gone a long time. Maybe too long to still play that role.
And whoever was in there had to be someone local she trusted.
It wasn’t like Austen to hook up with random guys.
“All right. But I’m heading to Pie Hard.” No way was I setting foot in Kiss My Grits right now. Not until I figured out how to face Pepper.
“Great. I’ll see you there!”
She practically shoved me out the door. I heard the lock click behind me and stood there for a moment, debating. But ultimately, I headed down the stairs. Austen would tell me what was going on when she was ready.
As I headed back the way I’d come, I registered the familiar truck parked in front of the bookstore. Clint’s truck. I could be a coincidence. He lived downtown, too. But something told me it was more than that. Guess we’d see.
I picked up fresh pastries from Pie Hard, enduring all the “Welcome Home,” and “Thank you for your service,” from Lola Taggert, whose baked goods had featured in a considerable portion of our fantasies while we’d been overseas.
Then I texted Austen to meet me in the park.
It seemed a safer place for a private conversation, considering where I suspected this would go.
The fall morning stretched crisp and clear as I waited on the park bench, watching the leaves dance across the grass.
My sister’s footsteps crunched through the scattered foliage.
She’d changed into jeans and a cardigan, looking more put together than earlier, but she still had that guilty air about her.
“You’re late.” I held up the Pie Hard bag. “Your pumpkin muffin’s probably cold.”
“Well, if someone had given me a heads up they were coming…” She snatched the bag and dropped onto the bench beside me. “Two months, Rhett. Two months of not knowing if you were okay.”
I focused on my apple turnover. “I was fine.”
“Three surgeries isn’t fine.”
“Two.” I brushed crumbs off my lap. “The second was minor. Just cleaning up some shrapnel.”
“Just some shrapnel?” Her voice went sharp. “Mom’s going to kill you for keeping this from us.”
“Which is exactly why I haven’t been to see them yet.” I leaned back, wincing as my shoulder twinged. “You know how Mom gets.”
“You can’t avoid them forever. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be.”
More leaves spiraled down from the maple above us. I wadded up my napkin, buying time. “I know. I just need a minute to figure out how to explain everything.”
“The last two months haven’t been enough time to figure it out?”
“Been a little busy with PT and shit.”
She went quiet, picking at her muffin without really eating it.
Something was eating at her, and I had a pretty good idea what—or who—it was.
Time to put her out of her misery about that, at least. But first, I needed to explain about that last day.
About the pact we’d made. Maybe then she’d understand why I wasn’t going to lose my mind over finding out about her and Clint.
She listened as I told her about that night. About sitting around playing poker, and how we’d all talked about what we wanted from life. About the promise we’d made to stop wasting time once we made it home.
“Does that mean you’re ready to get your head out of your ass and fix things with her?” Austen asked.
I knew she meant Pepper. There’d never been another her for me. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Her eyebrow winged up. “That’s all you’ve got? Maybe? After you just sat here telling me about this big dramatic pact about not wasting time anymore?”
“It’s complicated.” I needed a plan. I couldn’t just march up to Pepper and say I wanted to try again.
“It’s really not.” Austen crumpled up her muffin wrapper. “You love her. You never stopped loving her. And I happen to know she never got serious with anyone else after you two split.”
Being relevant intel, that caught my attention. “You don’t know that.”
“Actually, I do. We have coffee at least twice a month.” She hit me with that smug look she’d perfected by age twelve. “What? Just because you two got divorced doesn’t mean we stopped being friends. And trust me, big brother, complicated is just another word for scared.”
Time to turn the tables. “That the voice of experience talking?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just that somebody told me you’d been seen out with Clint since he got back.”
It had been a total guess, but her face went pale. “He took me to Gretchen’s wedding, so I didn’t have to face down Trevor alone.”
Ah, the douchewaffle. I was glad she hadn’t had to deal with him on her own.
“Mm-hmm. That why you were wearing his shirt this morning?”
The deer-in-headlights look was back. I took a few seconds to enjoy it—big brother privilege—before taking pity. “Look, if you two are into each other, it’s none of my business. You’re a grown adult.”
“Are you… giving your blessing?”
“Not that you need it.” What was I, a caveman? She wasn’t property. She was a consenting adult.
Her jaw dropped before she caught herself. “Well, that’s not at all how I expected this to go.”
“How did you expect it to go?”
“Possibly with your fist in his face.”
“If I thought he was playing, it would have. But I know him better than that. He wouldn’t cross that line if you didn’t matter.”
She launched herself at me for a hug. “Welcome home, big bro. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere I need to be.”
My sister disappeared like a woman on a mission, and I dragged myself to my feet. Time to get that visit home and Mom’s inevitable scolding over with.