Chapter 10 Pepper
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.”
I froze. “How did you—”
“Small town.” Bud shrugged, stirring cream into his coffee.
I adjusted my grip on the coffee pot. “And just so we’re clear, my friends did the bidding, not me.” Never mind that I was the one who’d ended the bidding before he’d gone to that hussy in the back row who’d been intent on winning him.
“Sure, sure.” Jimmy nodded sagely. “So, how was the date?”
“None of your business.” I couldn’t help the heat rising to my cheeks.
“That good, huh?” Bud chuckled.
Damn it. I hadn’t meant to confirm the date had happened yet. “Don’t you three have anything better to talk about?”
“Not really,” they answered in unison.
The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up to see Jess striding in, her Pour Decisions apron still tied around her waist. She made a beeline for me, eyes wide.
“Hey, did you know Rhett is at your house?”
I nearly dropped the coffeepot. “What?”
“Just drove by. He seemed to be measuring your porch.” She slid onto a stool at the counter. “Looked pretty focused.”
So he actually had shown up like he said he would.
I hadn’t quite believed it when he’d offered last night.
Part of me had written it off as post-kiss delirium because he’d promised to do so many things over the years and hadn’t followed through.
It had never been malicious, just an endless string of reminders that I didn’t come first in his life.
“Yeah, he volunteered to fix my porch.” I busied myself pouring Jess a cup of coffee, avoiding her eyes. Not that she’d asked for coffee and not that the coffee at her truck wasn’t ten times better than the basic stuff we served here. I needed something else to focus on.
“Did he now?” Her voice lilted with suggestion.
From the corner table, I heard Harlan let out a low whistle. “Fixing the porch, huh?”
“That’s a mighty big step,” Jimmy chimed in.
“It’s not a thing.” But my voice sounded unconvincing even to my own ears. “He just felt bad about never getting around to it when we were married.”
Jess raised a single eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And I’m sure that’s all there is to it.”
“It is,” I said firmly, though my heart wasn’t in it.
Because it didn’t feel like nothing. It felt like something. Something significant.
When we were married, Rhett had always had good intentions about fixing things around the house. But between his shifts at the fire station and the extra hours he’d pick up, those intentions rarely materialized into actual repairs. The sagging porch had been on his to-do list for years.
Now he was actually doing it. Not just talking about it, but showing up.
“Look, he’s just trying to make amends,” I said, more to convince myself than them. “That’s all.”
I leaned against the counter, staring at the coffeepot in my hands. Despite my protests, I couldn’t help wondering if there was more to Rhett’s sudden handyman routine than just guilt.
“He’s on medical leave,” I mumbled, half to myself. “Probably just bored.”
But a traitorous part of me wanted it to mean more than that. I wanted it to mean he was putting down roots again, even if just temporarily. To mean he was investing time and energy into something connected to me. That he was trying to right old wrongs.
That last part, at least, felt true. There’d been something different about him last night.
A gravitas and maturity he hadn’t had when I’d ended us.
The way he’d listened—really listened—when I spoke.
How he’d asked thoughtful questions about the diner, remembered details about me from years ago.
The careful way he’d touched me, like I was precious.
Had he come to regret how things had broken between us? Did he want to try again?
Did I?
The question caught me off guard, lodging somewhere between my ribs.
I’d spent three years convincing myself I was better off alone than being married to someone who couldn’t make me a priority.
Three years building a life without him, running my diner, finding my own rhythm.
Three years telling myself that I didn’t miss him.
But one dinner, one kiss, and I was questioning everything.
“Earth to Pepper.” Jess waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re thinking so loud I can practically hear it.”
I shook my head, setting down the coffeepot before I spilled it. “Just wondering what he’s up to.”
“Only one way to find out,” she said with a shrug. “Ask him.”
As if it were that simple. As if I could just walk up to the man who’d broken my heart and ask if fixing my porch meant he wanted me back. As if I even knew what answer I was hoping for.
No, that was a lie.
I wanted more. More time with him. More kisses. More heat.
But I’d had more with him once, and it hadn’t been enough.
The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results.
I could want more from him. I was only human, and I had so much history with Rhett MacAvoy.
But actually pursuing more would be a sign of epic stupidity.
Him doing one nice thing to make amends didn’t mean he’d changed.
All his good intentions would fly out the window as soon as he was back on duty, and he’d break my heart all over again.
I just had to remember that.