Chapter 6 Pepper
Six
Pepper
“This is insane. I’m insane. We’re all insane,” I muttered, tossing another rejected outfit onto the growing pile on my bed.
Allie flopped backward onto the only clear spot remaining. “You’re not insane. You’re just going to dinner with your ex-husband. Totally normal Tuesday.”
I shot her a glare that could’ve curdled milk. “Not helping, Taggert.”
Jess emerged from my closet with another option—a forest green wrap dress I’d forgotten I owned. “What about this? It brings out your eyes.”
“And shows off your legs,” Meghan added, not looking up from where she was organizing my makeup collection. “Those firefighter-loving legs that got you into this mess.”
“My legs did not get me into this mess. Your collective betrayal got me into this mess.” I snatched the dress anyway. It was pretty, and I hadn’t worn it since... well, since before the divorce.
“It wasn’t betrayal,” Allie protested. “It was intervention. You two have been making moon eyes at each other across town for years.”
“I have not been making moon eyes at anyone.” I disappeared into the bathroom to try on the dress, my voice echoing off the tiles. “And I haven’t even seen him in over a year.”
“Which didn’t stop you from asking his sister about him every chance you got,” Jess called through the door.
I yanked the dress over my head. “I was being polite!”
“Polite is asking once,” Meghan countered. “You had a spreadsheet of questions.”
“It was not a spreadsheet.” I emerged from the bathroom, smoothing down the fabric. “It was a mental checklist.”
All three of them stopped talking at once. Allie whistled low.
“What? Is it too much? Not enough? Should I change?” My hands fluttered nervously at my sides.
“DeLuca,” Allie said slowly, “he’s going to swallow his tongue when he sees you.”
Meghan nodded, already reaching for my makeup bag. “Sit. We’re not done with you yet.”
I sank into the chair at my vanity, stomach twisting into knots. “This is just dinner. Just... closure.”
Jess snorted. “Sure. And I’m just running a lemonade stand.”
“You guys don’t understand.” I caught Jess’s eyes in the mirror as Meghan started working on my face. “Rhett and I... we didn’t work. We wanted different things.”
“What do you want now?” Jess asked, suddenly serious as she leaned against the doorframe.
The question hung in the air, and I didn’t have an answer.
I let Meghan finish my makeup, trying to ignore the weight of Jess’s question. What did I want now? The truth was too complicated, too raw to voice aloud.
“Honestly? I don’t know what I want.” I kept my eyes fixed on my reflection as Meghan applied a subtle swipe of eyeliner. “I just know what I didn’t want back then—to be married to someone who was never there.”
“He’s here now,” Allie pointed out, passing Meghan a tube of mascara.
“For how long?” The words came out sharper than I intended. “Until the next deployment? Until the next time he volunteers for extra shifts? Until the next time he runs into a burning building, and I’m left wondering if he’s coming home?”
The room fell silent. I hadn’t meant to reveal so much. These feelings belonged locked in the box where I’d stuffed them after signing the divorce papers.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “That wasn’t fair.”
Jess sat on the edge of my bed. “Fair to who? Him or you?”
I sighed. “Both, I guess.”
Deep down, in that place I refused to acknowledge, lived a stubborn, foolish hope.
A hope that whispered maybe we could try again.
Maybe this time would be different. Maybe we could be what I’d always believed we could be—partners, lovers, best friends who built a life together instead of living parallel ones.
But that voice was dangerous. That voice didn’t remember the nights I’d spent alone, worrying. The birthdays and anniversaries he’d missed. The way I’d slowly become a stranger in my own marriage.
“All done,” Meghan announced, stepping back to admire her work.
I stood, smoothing my dress again. “Thanks, guys. For everything. Even the unauthorized bidding.”
“So you admit it was a good idea?” Allie grinned.
“I admit nothing.” I checked the time. “It’s just dinner. Just... catching up with an old friend.”
An old friend I’d once promised forever to. An old friend whose smile still made my heart skip. An old friend I’d divorced because loving him hurt too much.
“He’s going to be here in half an hour. Y’all need to get out of here.”
“You’ll be fine.” Jess wrapped me in a quick hug. “Just remember to breathe.”
Allie squeezed my shoulders. “And remember that you look incredible. Like, ‘make a grown firefighter weep’ incredible.”
Meghan snapped her fingers suddenly. “Wait, I almost forgot the most important part.” She fixed me with a serious look. “You need to wear the sexy satin bra and panty set. The fancy one.”
“What? No!” I spluttered. “I’m not sleeping with Rhett.”
“So not the point.” Meghan rolled her eyes. “You know that, and I know that, but Rhett will remember that sexy underwear and be tortured.”
“How would he even know what underwear I’m wearing?” I demanded.
“He won’t,” Meghan explained patiently, as if talking to a child. “But you’ll know. And you’ll carry yourself differently.”
“She’s right,” Allie chimed in. “The sexy underwear will make you feel more confident. It’s like armor, but way prettier.”
“Armor,” I repeated flatly.
“Silky, lacy armor,” Jess confirmed. “Trust us on this.”
I glanced at the clock. Twenty-five minutes. “Fine. Whatever. Just go, all of you.”
They filed toward the door, each giving me one last hug. Allie was the last to leave, pausing in the doorway.
“Hey, Pep?”
“Yeah?”
“No pressure, but he never stopped loving you. Anyone with eyes can see it.”
Before I could respond, she closed the door behind her, leaving me alone with her words echoing in my head.
I did kind of like the idea of Rhett being tortured.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I marched myself back to my bedroom—the room I’d redecorated into a feminine oasis after my divorce—and yanked open my lingerie drawer.
I stood staring at the black lace set, memories flooding back before I could stop them. The last time I’d worn this… Rhett had just returned from a multi-day training exercise. I’d greeted him at the door wearing nothing but this and a smile. We hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.
My fingers traced the delicate scalloped edge of the bra. The way his eyes had darkened when he saw me. How his calloused hands had felt against my skin as he’d backed me against the wall. The heat of his mouth. The desperate way he’d whispered my name.
A flush crept up my neck, warming my cheeks and spreading lower. My body remembered his touch with embarrassing clarity.
“This is a terrible idea,” I muttered, but still found myself reaching for the set.
As I slipped into the lingerie, my skin prickled with awareness. The satin felt cool and smooth, the lace edges just tight enough to remind me they were there. Every movement became more deliberate, more sensual.
I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror and barely recognized myself. The woman staring back looked confident, desirable. She looked like someone who knew exactly what she wanted.
That was the problem. I was starting to remember exactly what I wanted, and it was six feet of stubborn firefighter with hands that knew every inch of me.
“No,” I said firmly to my reflection. “No, no, no.”
This was supposed to be dinner. Closure. Not whatever my body was currently suggesting.
I yanked open my drawer again, reaching for my practical cotton underwear. Then stopped. Who was I kidding? I’d already crossed some invisible line just by agreeing to this date. The lingerie wasn’t the problem.
The problem was that after all this time, after the heartbreak and the divorce papers and building a life without him, one glimpse of Rhett MacAvoy in a suit had my body humming like a live wire.
I slammed the drawer shut. This was exactly why tonight needed to be a onetime thing. I couldn’t let myself get pulled back into his orbit. Not when I’d finally found my footing on my own.
In defiance, I dragged the dress back over my head, feeling it settle into place over the smooth satin of the underwear. I was going to feel the glide of fabric against fabric with every step I took.
I can handle it. I can handle him.