Feeding the Fire
Author: Andrea Laurence
Date: 2015-03-16 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Contemporary; Adult; Firefighters
Description: Pepper has no interest in Grant Chamberlain…until she accidentally wins him at a school auction and finds the mega-hot firefighter impossible to ignore. Find out what happens next in the second playful and sexy ebook romance in the Rosewood series! Living in the small town of Rosewood, Alabama, hairdresser Pepper Anthony has one rule—never date a Chamberlain. She’s always said, “the only thing worse than being ignored by a Chamberlain is being dumped by one.” But Grant Chamberlain, town fireman, isn’t used to rejection, and Pepper has consistently turned him down since high school. She isn’t i
Publisher: Pocket Star

Thank you for downloading this Pocket Star Books eBook.

Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Star Books and Simon & Schuster.

CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is dedicated to my publicist, Morgan Doremus. I wouldn’t have gotten through all this without your guidance, endless encouragement, and Rolodex of Awesomeness. Thanks for taking time out of your busy day to help me out!

Chapter One

“You know, there are days when I’d consider setting my house on fire if I thought that sexy thing would show up and save me,” Vera Reynolds declared as she eyed the passing fire truck filled with gorgeous firefighters.

Pepper heard a lot of things working at Curls, the only hair salon in Rosewood, Alabama. As in any small southern town, the beauty parlor was one of the best places to get the pulse on the local happenings. She didn’t need a subscription to the local paper. Frankly, anything Clark Newton reported in the Rosewood Times was old news to her by the time it hit the front page.

Pepper and her boss, Sarah Hudson, the owner of Curls, were always kept fully abreast of town gossip. If people didn’t sit in their chairs and talk about their own life’s drama, they’d come armed with information about someone else’s. At any point in time, Pepper knew all about the town romances, who was in a spat over property lines, who spent the night in the drunk tank of the local jail, and who had sabotaged a Rosewood Garden Club member’s prized fern.

It was a small town, low on actual crime but always high on drama. Although there was nothing she could do to keep from hearing the gossip, Pepper tried very hard not to spread it. She knew how easily it could come back to bite her. Instead, she liked to play the role of salon-chair therapist. They talked, she listened and made thoughtful noises while working on their hair.

But sometimes, like today, she just didn’t want to know. And since Miss Francine and Miss Vera always scheduled their appointments together, today meant double the trouble, and no escaping the gossip.

Instead of responding to Miss Vera’s declaration, Pepper worked at sweeping up the fine hair on the floor from Sheriff Todd’s trim. The man had almost no hair and yet he showed up for a cut every four weeks, like clockwork. Pepper felt bad actually charging the man.

“What sexy thing? Who was that?” Francine Doyle asked. “I can’t see out the window with this dryer over my head.”

“It was Grant,” Miss Vera said.

“Who?”

“Grant Chamberlain!” she shouted over the noise of the dryer as pieces of foil flapped in her hair.

Pepper winced at the sound of that name. Unlike Miss Vera, she had been dodging Grant Chamberlain since high school. The scrappy little freshman had had the nerve to ask her to the fall formal her junior year. He wasn’t even old enough to drive them to the dance, but that hadn’t stopped him. For whatever reason, he’d decided he wanted Pepper, and no matter how many times she told him no, he’d always come back around a few weeks later with another proposal.

Dating a Chamberlain might be a feather in the cap for most girls at Rosewood High, but not for Pepper. She’d tried to avoid that whole family, which wasn’t difficult considering they lived in the antebellum mansion on Willow Lake and she’d lived in a trailer off the highway. Life was hard enough being poor and unpopular. Dating a freshman her junior year would’ve earned her merciless teasing by the other kids at school. Even if he was a Chamberlain.

Pepper looked up in time to see Miss Francine’s lips twist into a grimace of distaste. “You are a dirty old woman,” she snapped. “That child is barely out of diapers.”

Pepper and Sarah shared a look of amusement but didn’t respond. Sarah returned to working on Miss Vera’s hair with an almost undetectable shake of her head. Pepper went into the back room to dump the dustpan and get fresh towels.

“He’s old enough,” Miss Vera muttered, turning back to look into the mirror. With one finger, she pulled at some of the wrinkles on her face, tugging until she looked ten years younger. “I’m just too old. Hell, I wouldn’t know what to do with a hard-bodied man like that if I had one sitting in my parlor.”

Pepper turned off the dryer and checked the foils in Miss Francine’s hair. The heat had helped the color process faster, and she was ready to have the dye rinsed out.

“And how would you know he’s hard-bodied, Vera?” Miss Francine asked on her way to the shampoo station. “Are you the Peeping Tom they’ve been talking about in the newspaper?”

“Very funny,” Miss Vera replied with a dry tone. “You shouldn’t joke about something like that, Francine. That peeper is serious business. There’s a pervert in our midst.”

“Have they caught the peeper yet?” Sarah asked.

“No,” Miss Francine said. “From what I’ve heard, Sheriff Todd has had seven reports of someone peering in women’s windows at night. My niece Olivia was one of the victims. I think she was the second one to report it. She said she was making a late dinner one night, looked up, and saw two eyes staring back at her through the kitchen window. Her back door wasn’t locked, either, because she had just let her dog back into the house. Whoever that was could’ve walked right in and done God-knows-what to her.”

“That’s awful,” Sarah said.

“It’s worse than that. She had closed up the flower shop for me that night and rode her bicycle home. She said that for the first time, she felt uncomfortable at night by herself, like there was someone watching her. She pedaled home twice as fast as usual, and then when nothing happened, she chided herself for being paranoid. But she was right—someone was watching her. They followed her home.”

“I didn’t know the peeper had been to Olivia’s.” Miss Vera’s eyes widened thoughtfully. “What did she do?”

Miss Francine shrugged. “Well, the cops couldn’t help much and she just didn’t feel safe, so she bought a shotgun and had motion-detector lights put up around the house. I think she may go back to driving her car to the shop and only ride her bicycle in the summer when the sun sets later.”

“That’s creepy,” Pepper said. It hadn’t really crossed her mind that the sleepy town she lived in could harbor someone dangerous. What crime they did have was usually a harmless teenage prank or a drunken brawl. Some days she even forgot to lock her door. She didn’t think something this bad could ever happen here. “I need to keep my curtains pulled. Or finally install some blinds.”

“You should,” Miss Francine agreed. “And I say all single women should invest in strong locks, a big dog, and a high-quality gun. But enough of that unpleasantness. I want to know how Vera got her secret knowledge about the hard body of Grant Chamberlain.”

“It just so happens that the fire station is across the street from Dotty Baker’s place,” Miss Vera explained. “Every Wednesday afternoon, she has me over for tea. We sit on the front porch, eat cake, and watch them wash the fire truck. If it’s warm enough out, some of them will take off their shirts.”

Pepper muffled a snort, thinking about those two leering at the firemen every week under the guise of having tea. “Ever whistle or catcall?”

“Dotty did once,” Miss Vera said with a look of irritation pinching her brow together. “It spooked them. They didn’t wash the truck for two weeks after that. At least, not at their usual time when we were watching. I took them a plate of cookies and apologized for her uncouth behavior. You know, since she had that stroke, she gets away with murder. Stroke, my foot. Her family wishes that was the cause of her big mouth. She’s always been like that. Anyway,” she continued, “they finally went back to washing the truck on Wednesday afternoons again, and I told Dotty to keep her big mouth shut after that.”

Miss Dotty had an appointment for her hair tomorrow. Pepper always enjoyed having her in the chair, but Miss Vera was right: Dotty told it like it was. Usually in the South, ladies danced around the more delicate subjects, especially in polite company, but not Dotty. She just laid it out there when no one else had the balls to say it. It made Pepper laugh.

“And why am I not invited to these tea parties?” Miss Francine asked.

“You’re always working at the flower shop.”

Miss Francine made a disappointed noise and crossed her arms over her chest. She owned and operated Petal Pushers, the local florist. You could almost always find her there, working on arrangements for anniversaries or sprays for Hancock’s Funeral Home across the street.

Pepper finished rinsing Miss Francine’s hair and wrapped her head in a fluffy white towel. That was fortunate, because Miss Francine couldn’t hear Miss Vera mutter under her breath to Sarah, “She’s also too judgmental. She’d take all the fun out of it. Old ladies like me have to get our kicks somewhere.”

By the time Pepper had Miss Francine settled in the chair, Sarah had steered the conversation in a new direction. “Have you ever considered dating again, Miss Vera?”

“Posh,” she grumbled with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Honey, I’m too old to start dating again.”

“I don’t think so. You’re still young enough to enjoy going out to dinner or a movie with a gentleman. Someone to go with you on walks through the park. Or maybe a little make-out session in the parlor,” Sarah added with a sly grin.

“Oh, Lordy,” Miss Francine groaned. “Can you even imagine it?”

“I can!” Sarah answered. “Grant Chamberlain might be on the young side for you, but there’s got to be some eligible men in town who would be more suitable.”

Miss Vera shook her head. “I know every man in this town and not a one of them could measure up to my Herman. We had forty-three wonderful years together before he had that heart attack. I think my time to wade in the dating pool is long behind me.”

“I don’t know,” Sarah argued. “You could start by dipping a toe in. I’ve seen Bert Swenson eyeing you at Sunday morning services.”

“Bert Swenson?” Miss Vera nearly choked, a red flush rising to her powdered cheeks. “Are you kidding me?”

“You know,” Pepper joined in, “I’ve noticed he always takes a second serving of your desserts at the community picnics.”

“Well, he shouldn’t,” Miss Vera snapped. “That man has put on at least thirty pounds since Margaret died. He’ll have the sugar diabetes before too long.”

Sarah put the last of the foils in Miss Vera’s hair and set the timer. “Maybe he just needs a good woman to take care of him.”

“Sarah, dear, I have spent my whole life taking care of other people. First my brothers, then my husband, then my kids, then my own parents. Now it’s the grandkids. I miss Herman, but I certainly don’t miss cooking three squares a day. Meat and potatoes. Every night. For forty-three years. Last night, I had a cheese sandwich. The night before, a can of soup. I haven’t washed a skillet in a month and I don’t mind a bit. A new man to take care of? No thanks.”

Pepper smiled, listening to Miss Vera’s tirade. She was protesting a little too much. Perhaps there really was some potential for senior romance in the air.

“Well, you know they’re talking about having a bachelor auction around Valentine’s Day.”

“I heard about that,” Miss Francine chimed in. “The fund-raising committee contacted me last week about sponsoring some flower arrangements and roses for the winning bidders. As though I’ll have spare roses around Valentine’s Day! Even if I did, my suppliers jack up the wholesale prices in February. They’re going to pay or they’re going to get some lovely red and pink carnations.”

Pepper frowned in confusion at Miss Francine’s long-winded complaint. Nearly a year ago, a tornado had whipped through Rosewood, wiping out the high school gymnasium and part of the football stadium. The town had rallied, organizing fund-raisers and even bringing Ivy Hudson, rock star and former resident of Rosewood, back to town for a charity concert. Sarah’s daughter had become a Grammy-winning performer with numerous albums and world tours under her belt. They had easily raised more than enough money to rebuild and modernize the school by having her come back. Pepper ought to know; she’d been on the committee.

But she hadn’t heard about this. She stopped going to the meetings once they started construction on the new gym. “Why is the fund-raising committee still trying to raise money? The high school is paid for.”

“Well, where there’s one tornado, there’s always another,” Miss Vera said with sage wisdom in her voice. “From what I heard, they’ve decided to continue planning community events to raise money for the future.”

“I think it’s just a good excuse to throw some parties and make money in the process,” Sarah said. “Although, when another tornado comes through—and one will—it might be nice to have some money put away for emergency relief.”

“But a bachelor auction?” Pepper said. “That’s just so . . .”

“Tacky?” Miss Francine offered.

“Yes, tacky, thank you. What single woman with any dignity is going to go to a party and buy a date for Valentine’s Day? Especially when you can have most of the men in town for a plate of fried chicken and a Bundt cake.”

“I don’t know,” Miss Vera said thoughtfully. “Depends on who’s for sale. If Grant Chamberlain is on the auction block, I might have to dip into Herman’s life insurance money. You know, for a good cause.”

Using her dead husband’s life insurance money to rent a boy toy seemed all kinds of wrong. Pepper doubted Miss Vera would go through with it, though. She talked big in the salon, but it rarely actualized in the real world.

“Might be fun to watch,” Sarah said. “They’re selling tickets for the event, so everyone contributes to the cause, whether or not you bid.”

Pepper got out her scissors and started trimming the ends of Miss Francine’s hair. Morbid curiosity might get her to the auction, but she wasn’t bidding. She was saving every penny she could for renovations to her house. A date for Valentine’s Day was fleeting. Her home was forever.

It had taken her five years to save up for a down payment on the tiny house just off the square in the historic district. Unlike many of the other houses in that area, it was just in her price range, but unfortunately, that was because it needed a lot of work. Since she’d moved in last summer she had gotten it to mildly livable.

If she was going to drop a couple hundred or even a couple thousand dollars for a man’s time, he would have to be an electrician or a plumber. Maybe a drywall guy. She certainly wasn’t going to waste her money on a hard body and a pretty face.

Besides, she’d already had Grant Chamberlain for free.

It had been an amazing night, one she would not soon forget, but she wasn’t stupid enough to repeat it. Grant was like one of the decadent fudge cakes in the windows of the bakery next door. You want a slice even though you know it’s bad for you. If you finally break down and tell yourself you’ll just take one bite, you find out it’s better than you ever imagined and you moan with the pure pleasure of the experience. You take another, and another, then you find you’ve eaten the whole damn cake. And when it’s over, all you’re left with is a righteous stomachache and pants that are too tight. From now on, temptation be damned—Pepper was on a diet.

“Pepper,” Sarah said. “I forgot to tell you. Ivy’s coming home in a few days to spend Valentine’s Day with Blake. She said she’ll be in town for a few weeks before she kicks off her North American tour. Maybe you two can go to the auction together?”

Pepper missed her friend since she went back to California last fall. Even though Ivy’s fiancé lived in Rosewood, they hadn’t figured out the logistics yet and were still living on opposite coasts most of the time. “That would be nice. Especially since I wasn’t able to see her when she came home over Christmas.”

Ivy had come home to spend the holidays with her fiancé, Blake Chamberlain, and her family, but Pepper had spent every spare moment dealing with her father’s failing health.

The day after Thanksgiving, her father had a stroke. The weeks between Thanksgiving and New Year’s were spent in hospital waiting rooms, doctors’ offices, and rehabilitation clinics in Birmingham. They’d finally gotten Dad home and able to get around, but he wasn’t 100 percent yet.

“How is your dad?” Sarah asked.

“Better. We’re still not sure if he’s ever going to be able to run the garage again. One of his mechanics has been helping my mother run the shop, but if he doesn’t make significant progress in the next few weeks, we might have to sell it.”

She’d hate to do that. Her father had worked his whole life to make his way up from a gas station attendant to running the family auto shop. Having their own business had allowed her mother to quit her job in the elementary school cafeteria and work as the receptionist for the garage. It had paid for them to move from their trailer into a real house. They’d do everything they could to keep the shop open as long as possible.

“That would be a shame,” Sarah said, echoing Pepper’s thoughts.

“I’m still hopeful. My brother just moved home from Huntsville, so that should help.”

“I thought I noticed someone renting the house on Morning Glory where the Rosewood Realty offices used to be. Is that where he’s setting up his practice?” Miss Francine asked.

“Yep, that’s Logan. That house allows him to live and work in the same building, saving him a lot of overhead. Plus it’s across from the garage, so he can run over there if he needs to.”

Speaking of Logan, she had to remember to take dinner over to his place tonight after the salon closed. She’d volunteered to help him unpack and get settled in his new place. Setting down her scissors, she pulled her phone out of her back pocket to set a reminder to call in an order to Pizza Palace.

“A pretty gutsy move opening a law practice in Rosewood,” Miss Vera noted. “The Chamberlains have had the monopoly on that for seventy years.”

“I’m sure there’s plenty of business for everyone,” Pepper replied before going back to trimming Miss Francine’s hair. Her brother practiced family law and could handle some minor civil or criminal cases if he needed to. Small-town lawyers had to be a jack-of-all-trades. She anticipated he would do good business here. There were certainly families in Rosewood that couldn’t afford the Chamberlains’ exorbitant hourly rate.

Like her own. She’d had her brother put together a will and living directive for her father after he fell ill, but other families didn’t have that luxury of a lawyer in the family. The Chamberlains’ firm charged prices that had made her head spin. The average family couldn’t afford fees like that, and yet, they couldn’t afford not to have the protection and peace of mind that a will or directive provides.

Pepper tried not to get pleasure from the idea of her brother chipping away at the Chamberlains’ turf, but it was hard not to hope for Logan’s success. Not everyone in town thought the Chamberlains were southern royalty. In her household, the name was rarely even spoken without her mother getting agitated and changing the subject.

“Anyway,” Pepper continued, “it’s not like Norman has a child in law school to take over the practice when he retires.”

Blake, the oldest Chamberlain, taught and coached football at the high school. Mitchell was in med school, and his twin, Maddie, worked at the bakery. Grant was a fireman and Simon was a cop. The youngest, Hazel, was still in high school, but somehow Pepper doubted that the bespectacled bookworm she saw around town would be interested in law.

“In a few years, we’ll be thankful we don’t have to recruit a law firm to come into the area. Not many up-and-coming lawyers are interested in leaving the big cities for a little place like this.” Pepper finally finished trimming Miss Francine’s hair. She set aside the scissors and ran her fingers through the damp strands. “We’ve just got to blow you out,” she said, “and you’ll be good to go.”

Pepper used the round brush to quickly dry and shape the older woman’s strawberry blonde hair into the style she preferred. The color was nothing like the original, but Miss Francine had told her that once she went gray, there was no reason she couldn’t change things up. She’d always wanted hair the same color as Ann-Margret and that’s what she got. Pepper sprayed her work with hair spray and spun Miss Francine to the mirror to admire her handiwork.

“Wonderful, as always, Pepper.” Miss Francine dug into her purse for her money, leaving her a generous tip. “Now, you mentioned going on vacation soon, right? It’s not going to interfere with my appointment, is it?”

Pepper was taking a week off work to get some things done around the house. She couldn’t wait to start getting her house into better shape. “No, ma’am,” she said. “I’m taking off the week of Valentine’s Day. You won’t be back here until the following week.”

“Okay, good,” Miss Francine said, getting up from her chair. “After the Valentine’s rush, I’m going to need a full day of pampering.”

Pepper arrived on her brother’s doorstep at five thirty with a pizza, a six-pack, and a box of cupcakes from Rosewood Bakery.

It took him a few minutes but finally the door swung open, revealing him to be covered in dirt and out of breath. There were flecks of dust in the brown waves of his hair and dark smudges along the square line of his jaw.

“Hey, sis,” Logan said, smiling.

“You look like hell,” she stated. “Did you get in a fight with a feather duster?”

“Something like that,” he admitted, taking a step back into the entryway to allow her in. “I made the mistake of pulling down the ladder to the attic. Apparently no one has done that in a couple, um, decades.”

“Lovely. You get in the shower and rinse off. I’ll have pizza waiting for you when you get done.”

“Thank you,” he said, leaning in to give her a kiss on her cheek. “Oops.” He reached out and brushed away the smudge he left behind. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and ran back upstairs.

Pepper shut the front door behind her and weaved her way through the piles of boxes and random furniture to the kitchen in the back of the house. Formerly a real estate office, the majority of the downstairs had been used as offices and conference rooms. She supposed her brother would do the same once he opened his practice. Tucked in the back, the kitchen was untouched.

It was also unrenovated. It wasn’t nearly as bad as Pepper’s house, but considering no one had used the oven here in twenty years, no one had replaced it, either. All the fixtures were old, the wallpaper dated. The only modern thing in the place was a Keurig coffee machine on the counter. Knowing Logan, that was the first thing he’d unpacked.

Pepper slid a box labeled “kitchen stuff” out of her way and put the pizza and drinks on the counter. She opened an empty cupboard, then another and realized he didn’t have any plates, cups, or flatware unpacked. She supposed that was the difference between her and her brother. Pepper didn’t cook much, but whenever she moved into a new place, the kitchen was the first thing she put away.

She hadn’t thought to ask for paper plates at the pizza place. They gave her napkins and twenty little packets of red pepper flakes, but no plates. Looking around, she eyed the different boxes and started opening ones that looked promising. In the fourth or fifth box, she found a stack of paper plates. That was all they needed. They could drink from the cans since they were still cold.

Pepper carried everything into the conference room to eat. Technically, it was the formal dining room, but it had a long table with rolling executive chairs, the far wall had a screen, and overhead, instead of a light fixture, there was a computer projector.

Logan joined her a few minutes later, clean and with damp hair. “Thanks for bringing food. I’ve had nothing but coffee and chips all day.”

“This is a nice setup,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Did you bring this with you?”

“No, it came with the house. They left this stuff, the chairs and coffee table in the lobby, and a big desk in the room I’ll use for my office.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah. A few less things I need to buy.” Logan lifted a piece of pizza onto a plate and sat down. “Starting your own business isn’t for sissies. It’s hard to justify buying a flat-screen television for the lobby when I have no clients.”

Pepper passed him a soda. “You’ll get clients. You just have to open.”

Logan shrugged, taking a bite of his food instead of arguing with her. Pepper knew he was worried. Moving back to Rosewood and going out on his own was a big deal. Especially going up against competition like the Chamberlains’ firm. It was a risk, but she knew he did it for the family. He couldn’t sit idle in Huntsville while everything was falling apart at home.

“I went to see Dad today,” Logan said, changing the subject.

“How was he?” she asked. “The last time I was over there, he seemed a little sluggish. He was getting around okay, but you could tell it was a lot of work for him.”

“He was better,” Logan said. “That cane the doctor gave him helps. He came to the door to let me in, then walked with me to the garage to help me find some tools to work on the house.”

“I’m worried he won’t get the use of his left hand back,” Pepper said with a shake of her head. “He can barely hold a spoon without dropping it. I just don’t see him working on cars and handling heavy tools anytime soon.”

“It’s only been a couple of months. He’s going to therapy and he said that’s helping. You never know. We’ve got to take this one day at a time. He could be in there tinkering under the hood with Sean by summer.”

“You’re right,” Pepper said, trying to stay positive. She was usually an upbeat person, but it was hard to do when she was watching her family struggle. “On the bright side, now that Dad can stay home alone during the day, Mom’s able to go back to run the shop. It’s taken a lot of pressure off Sean. Now he can focus on fixing the cars and Mom can handle the customers and the phones.”

“I’m sure she’s happy to get out of the house. Of course, now I have to worry about her sneaking across the street to check on me all the time.”

“Ah, the downside to renting a house so close to the garage,” Pepper replied with a smile. “I’m sure she’d be glad to help you decorate.”

Logan groaned and rolled his eyes. “She’d want to cover everything with those doilies she crochets.”

Pepper chuckled, knowing he was right. She had a box with about fifteen doilies her mother gave her for her new house. It was currently collecting dust in the corner of the dining room, but so were most things.

“All right,” Logan said, pushing back from the table, “enough eating. It’s time to get some work done.”

“Fine.” Pepper sipped the last of her drink and followed Logan into the kitchen to throw out their trash. “I’ll start on the kitchen. Then you can spend all day tomorrow trying to figure out where I put things.”

Logan laughed. “Okay. Just don’t hide the K-Cups or you’ll get a desperate call from me at dawn.”

Chapter Two

Pepper finally got ready to leave around nine thirty. It took more time than she expected to wipe out the cabinets, line them, and put away all of Logan’s things. The kitchen was small and the layout was a little awkward, so it took some time to figure out what should go where. She was pretty pleased with herself when she was finished. It actually looked better than her own kitchen, which stung just a little.

As she stepped down off his porch and onto the sidewalk, the patio light flickered for a moment, then went out. A streetlamp up the block made it bright enough to walk without tripping, but the sudden darkness was disconcerting.

The street was quiet. Too quiet. She looked around and didn’t see a single person out and about. No cars, no people walking dogs or coming in and out of the grocery store. On any other day, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to it, but after that conversation today about the peeper, she found herself a little on edge. All of the victims had been single women who lived alone. There had been no rhyme or reason to the nights, no patterns to anticipate when he might strike again. Whoever he was, he could be out there watching her right now.

The rustle of leaves sounded on her left, and she snapped her head around to look. There was no breeze tonight, but a bush at the corner of Logan’s foundation was moving. She told herself it could be a cat or rabbit and forced her feet down the sidewalk to her car.

Logan’s house was only about five blocks away from Pepper’s, but she’d opted to drive tonight not knowing how late she’d finish. She rounded her car quickly and checked the backseat for crazies before she climbed in. She shut the door and locked it as soon as she could. From there, it was a short, uneventful drive. The whole town was quiet tonight, including her street, Daisy Drive.

When she parked and turned off her car, she eyed the area around her house and prepared to make a run for it. Nothing was out of the ordinary, but she was spooked nonetheless. It was a short walk from her driveway to her front door, and she made certain she had her house key ready in one hand and her pepper spray ready in the other. Miss Francine had told her to get a big gun or a big dog, but that wasn’t really her style. When she moved out of her parents’ home, her daddy insisted she have some way to protect herself, so she special ordered the police-grade pepper spray from the Internet. If it could drop a violent three-hundred-pound drunk, it could handle whoever might be looking in the windows of Rosewood homes.

Pepper’s house was two blocks off the main square, just across from Whittaker’s restaurant. The restaurant could get a little loud on the weekends and during the summer when they stayed open later, but on the average weeknight, they closed up at nine. Not even the dishwashers were still there tonight.

Both of her neighbors were older. Miss Phyllis owned the antiques store and was almost completely deaf. Instead of wearing a hearing aid, she opted to crank the volume up on her television so loud that Pepper knew exactly what she was watching at all times. The silence indicated she was in bed already. On the other side were the Jacksons—Art and Connie. They owned the gas station, and Art usually got home late from closing up.

Not the most dangerous place, but that didn’t keep her from climbing her stairs two at a time and lunging for her front door. She unlocked it quickly, stepped inside, then shut and bolted the door. Only then did she let out a sigh of relief mingled with nervous laughter. “You’re being silly,” she chided herself, then immediately turned and pulled the curtains closed on her front windows. Why would the peeper come to watch her? Really, there wasn’t anything exciting to look at.

Pepper switched on the lamp by the front door, illuminating what she liked to refer to as her livbedoset—a combination living room, bedroom, and closet. Her couch, bed, television, dresser, and a makeshift clothing rack occupied most of the free space in the room, making her feel sometimes like she had a studio apartment instead of a thousand-square-foot house.

She dropped her purse and pepper spray on the table by the door and made her way through the house, closing curtains and securing windows as she went.

Her house was a two-bedroom, one-bath bungalow. In theory. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time or money to make all of the rooms usable. The home had previously been owned by an elderly widower. He’d fallen and broken his hip, spending the next few years in a long-term-care facility in Ashville. When he passed on, his kids had fought over his estate for several years, and by the time the house went on the market, it had been vacant for almost a decade.

One bedroom had a weak floor that needed to be reinforced and a window in such a poor state that the curtains moved even when it was shut. The other had an electrical problem, so none of the outlets or fixtures worked, and the wallpaper was peeling down in a mildewy mess. She was pretty certain that the drywall needed to be replaced in there, too.

She would use the rooms for storage if she could, but neither was in any shape to put anything in them. With her luck, a heavy box would fall through the floor and she’d find a family of rabid raccoons in her crawl space. That meant that all the boxes of unpacked belongings and homeless furniture were stacked up in what should be the dining room.

Pepper turned on the light in the kitchen. The saving grace of the house was that both the bathroom and kitchen were functional, although out of date. There was no dishwasher, no washer-dryer hookups, and the cabinetry and tile in both rooms hadn’t been fashionable since before Pepper was born, but they did what they were supposed to do. That was more than she could say about the rest of the place.

When all was said and done, though, Pepper loved her house. It was her first home. A real wood-and-brick home. She had grown up in a trailer and then moved to an apartment when she got her job at Curls. It took several years to save up a down payment, but she finally had a little place to call her own.

She’d saved a little over five thousand dollars to put toward improvements to the house. Her attempts at doing a little bit over time hadn’t gotten her very far. She did get the hardwood floors in the living room and dining room refinished and the walls painted in a couple of rooms before she moved in. Everything else had been bumped to the foot-long to-do list she had tacked to her refrigerator.

Pepper eyeballed the list for a moment, then opened the door to pull out a drink. Her father’s health had taken precedent lately, but her vacation was coming. She was desperate to get at least one of the bedrooms functional so she could move out of the living room. Maybe then she could have people over and not be embarrassed.

People like Ivy. They had become pretty close again while Ivy was in Rosewood to help with the tornado fund-raiser. Pepper would love to have her over for a visit, but it just wouldn’t happen the way the house looked now. She wouldn’t even let her brother in—there was no way she was going to let a rock star in her house, friend or not.

Pepper turned to head back toward the livbedoset but stopped when she caught a blur of movement outside the kitchen window. She could barely make out the face of someone watching her. The sudden realization shot her heart up into her throat and she dropped her drink, sending soda spewing across the floor. She scrambled to pick up the can and drop it in the sink. By the time she got to the window to look outside again, there was nothing to see.

Her backyard wasn’t fenced. Anyone could get up to that back window, then go in five different directions and disappear into someone else’s yard or the next street over.

One window. She had one window without anything to cover it. She’d bought one of those ruffled valances to go over the top, but the rest of the window was wide-open. That was about to change. Pepper marched through the room and pulled a bath towel out of the linen closet. She returned to the kitchen and flung the towel over the window, tucking it around the curtain rod and blocking the entire view.

“Peep on me now, you bastard!” she shouted at the window, although the culprit was long gone.

Pepper had intended to curl up in bed and watch some television before she fell asleep, but she knew now those plans were shot. Instead, she picked up her cell phone and called the police department to add her report to the long list of complaints.

“I responded to a call at your girlfriend’s house last night.”

Grant looked at his brother Simon and frowned. He didn’t have a girlfriend and Simon knew it. Grant wasn’t much for the kind of commitment that required labels. He narrowed his eyes at him. “You know something I don’t?”

Simon chuckled. “I went to Pepper’s house last night,” he explained.

“She’s not my girlfriend, dork. We’ve never even dated.”

“I know. But she’s the one you dream about,” Simon said with a misty, romantic look on his face.

That earned him a kick to the shin under the table. Simon bit down a yelp, not wanting to cause a scene in Ellen’s Diner. If he did, Ruth, the waitress, would scold him. Grant’s twenty-two-year-old brother was hard-pressed to get any respect as a police officer as it was. He didn’t need to be publicly reprimanded by a crotchety, middle-aged woman having hot flashes.

“That hurt, you dick,” Simon hissed over their food. He leaned down and rubbed his leg with a frown lining his face. “Someone is a little touchy about the subject of Pepper Anthony.”

Pepper was always a touchy subject and had been since the ninth grade. Grant wasn’t used to failing when it came to women. He always knew exactly what to say, how to act, when to look into their eyes at the perfect moment to make all their defenses melt away. None of those skills had helped where Pepper was concerned.

“Someone doesn’t feel like getting ragged on by their baby brother today. Now get to the point of the story. What happened that you had to go to her place?”

“She was struck by the peeper.” Simon shoved a French fry in his mouth. “That’s our eighth report so far. The second this week.”

Grant didn’t like the sound of that. Rosewood was a small, quiet community. They weren’t used to having some pervert roaming the streets at night, harassing the local ladies. Especially Pepper. She lived alone in that house and her family lived way on the edge of town. She was surrounded by older residents who probably couldn’t hear her screams. She had no one to protect her from the town weirdo. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, yeah, she was just a little unnerved by the whole thing. The guy never tries to get in the house or make contact. He just watches. Pepper said she was in her kitchen and saw someone watching her from the backyard.”

“That’s creepy. I don’t like it. Pepper doesn’t have a security system, does she?”

Simon snorted. “No. Who does? You know a big dog and a loaded shotgun are the ADT of the South.”

“Yeah, but Pepper doesn’t have either of those.”

“Who doesn’t have what?” Blake asked from over their shoulder.

Grant and Simon both turned to watch their oldest brother approach the booth and force Simon to slide over. Because of Blake’s class schedule he usually didn’t have time to pop over to the diner at lunch, so this was unexpected.

“A security system,” Simon repeated.

“Are we going to rob someone?”

“No. I was just telling Grant that we got a report of the peeper at his girlfriend’s house. Ow, stop it, Grant!” Simon shouted the last part as Grant kicked him again.

“Is Pepper okay?” Blake assumed, making Grant’s hands tighten around his fork and knife.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Grant complained. Brothers were severely overrated. He’d dated plenty of women in town, but she was the one they always ragged on him about. She was his dating Waterloo, or at least he let them think that.

“She’s fine,” Simon replied, ignoring him. “I think she was just startled by the whole thing.”

“Do you guys have any leads on who it might be?”

Simon shook his head. “Not really. All we got is one muddy footprint from Colette Vaughn’s backyard. It was a men’s size ten narrow shoe, a work boot they sell at the shoe store on the square. We’ve got the store checking their orders, but they’re not computerized yet, so it’s going to take a while to go through all their files. That’s the only lead we have. We thought for a while it might be Jasper Daniels.”

“The guy who drove his truck into the lake?” Grant asked.

“Same guy. His wife left him right after Christmas, and not long after that, we started getting the first peeping reports. But last night, he was passed out in a cell. Sheriff Todd picked him up for driving his riding lawnmower down the street drunk. Apparently he didn’t realize that counted as a DUI. We didn’t let him out until this morning, so he couldn’t have been the one at Pepper’s window.”

“That’s just great. We’ve got a pervert in town and the cops haven’t a clue who it might be.”

“Ease up,” Simon complained. “You sound like Dad.”

Grant fought to keep his hackles from coming up. Nothing got to him quite like being compared to his father. He got that a lot. He had the misfortune of looking the most like his father out of all his siblings. They had the same build, the same carriage, and the same power over women. Grant just used his powers for good instead of evil. “And you sound like you don’t know what you’re doing,” he countered.

“We’re not exactly equipped with a crime scene unit around here. We’re working on it. And we’ve got some suspects.”

“Like who?” Grant challenged.

“Like I can’t tell you,” Simon snapped. “It’s an ongoing investigation.”

Grant groaned. He hated secrets, even ones the police had to keep. Things would be easier if people were just honest with each other. It would’ve saved him a lot of grief over the years. “Please.”

“Well, how about you tell me your whereabouts last night between nine and ten o’clock?” Simon asked. “Peering in Pepper’s windows at night wouldn’t be a shock to me.”

Swallowing a bite of his food, Grant frowned at his brother. “I was at the firehouse with Mack. You can ask him. We got a call about ten and rode out to the Underwood farm to put out a debris fire that got out of control. Happy?”

Simon shrugged. “I suppose. I just didn’t want you to think the Rosewood police force wasn’t doing a thorough job.”

“You’d better be doing a thorough job,” Blake warned. “Ivy’s coming home tomorrow. If I catch some pervert looking in my windows, I’ll give you and Sheriff Todd what’s left of him.”

“Very considerate of you,” Simon noted.

“How long is she staying?” Grant asked, trying not to sound too interested. He wasn’t that concerned with Ivy, but if she was back in town, she would probably spend some time with Pepper. That meant Grant might have the opportunity to be around her socially. But he didn’t want anyone to know he was interested.

His brothers gave him enough grief about Pepper as it was. Still, he had a hard time not thinking about her. It had been three months since they shared that night together. It was the hottest sex he’d ever had and he couldn’t tell anyone about it. That went against his strict policy of honesty, but Pepper insisted. It was a onetime thing and no one needed to know. He’d opted just not to talk about it, as opposed to lying. He’d been okay with that plan until he’d gotten a taste of her. Since then, thoughts of getting that spicy redhead back in his bed had nearly consumed his thoughts.

God, he’d gotten pathetic. Grant had never had to work this hard for a woman in his life. Charming a woman had been as second nature to him as football was to Blake. Sure, he needed to practice and stretch his . . . muscle . . . so to speak, but he was always successful. Always. And he technically had been successful with Pepper. He’d scored. Unfortunately, it just hadn’t been enough to satiate him.

For the first time in his life, a woman had left him wanting more. Pepper had done nothing that he expected and he loved that about her. She kept things interesting in a town that was as predictable as bad weather in the springtime.

“About two weeks, I think. She’ll be here through Valentine’s Day.”

“Speaking of which,” Simon spoke up, “have either of you gotten tapped for that bachelor auction?”

Blake laughed, low and wicked. “Nope. I’m engaged.”

“Lucky bastard,” Grant grumbled. “Yeah, Mayor Gallagher called me last week and said he just knew he could count on my participation.” He sighed and shook his head. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

“What’s the difference?” Simon asked. “You’ve already dated all the women in town anyway. This time, they’re just paying for the privilege.”

“Very funny. You get talked into it, too?”

Simon nodded. “I did. There aren’t many single men in Rosewood. Mayor Gallagher said that ‘all eligible men should be on deck to support their community,’ ” he said, mocking the gruff, pompous tone of the older man who had been mayor longer than any of them had been alive.

“Well, good,” Grant noted, eager to get a dig in on Simon after all the crap with Pepper earlier. “Maybe we can finally get you laid.”

Simon’s blue eyes grew wide as his head snapped around to see who in the restaurant might have heard that. Fortunately, there weren’t many people around. “You shut up!”

Grant heard a loud thump, the glasses and silverware on the table rattled, and Simon groaned. He winced and reached beneath the table to clutch his foot. “What’s the matter?”

“I tried to kick you in the shin and hit the steel leg of the table instead.”

Both brothers snickered at Simon as he bellyached over his self-inflicted injury. “You know, Simon, that’s not going to help with the ladies. Just ask Blake, a limp isn’t sexy.”

“Hey, now!” Blake argued. “Don’t bring my football injury into this discussion. I’ve never had any problem with the ladies, unlike young Simon here.”

“Don’t ‘young Simon’ me.” Their youngest brother pulled money out of his wallet and threw it down on the table. “It’s Officer Chamberlain if you’re going to be dicks.”

“We’re your older brothers,” Blake noted. “Of course we’re going to be dicks. But it’s only because we’re concerned about the care and well-being of your . . . well . . . dick.”

“Looks like I’ve got a monopoly on the Chamberlain boys today,” Ruth said as she approached the table with a grin curling her withered lips. “Can y’all please stop saying the word ‘dick’ in the diner?”

Ruth was rail thin and her hair had turned all gray years before, but it would be a mistake for anyone to consider her frail. She was hard as nails. She could single-handedly run Ellen’s during the lunch rush because she was one step down from a drill sergeant. Fred, the cook, just did what she said and all went well.

“Sorry, Miss Ruth,” Blake said with the proper amount of shame on his face.

Ruth patted his shoulder and gave him a sly wink that Grant couldn’t miss. The Chamberlain boys got away with murder in this town. “Just keep it down. Reverend Yates is sitting in the back corner. I don’t need him to start preaching on a Thursday afternoon. You know once he gets rolling, he’ll carry on until the dinner rush.”

“Sorry, Miss Ruth,” Grant echoed.

Ruth smiled and reached in her apron to pull out the tabs for Simon’s and Grant’s lunches. She slid them across the table and looked at Blake expectantly. “Can I get you something, Blake?”

“Can I get a cheeseburger and fries to go, please? I’ve got to get back soon.”

“No problem, sugar.”

Grant watched her disappear. “Hmph,” he said after she disappeared into the kitchen. “I thought she only called me sugar.”

“Sorry, Grant,” Blake quipped. “But maybe if you’re lucky, she’s saved up her tips to buy you at the auction.”

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

Pepper was walking out of the hardware store when she heard the familiar man’s voice. She turned and found Grant on the sidewalk heading in her direction. He was wearing one of his obnoxiously tight Rosewood Fire & Rescue T-shirts with a pair of well-pressed khakis that highlighted his muscular thighs and his arrogant strut. She allowed her gaze to flick over him for only a moment, but when her gaze met his, she knew it was still too long. There was a twinkle of amusement in his baby-blue eyes that matched the smug grin on his face.

“Afternoon, Grant,” she said before turning on her heel and heading toward her SUV that was still parked outside of Curls. She made it to the other side of First Avenue before Grant fell into step alongside her.

“I heard you had a run-in with the peeper last night.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “That’s why I’m carrying mini-blinds out of the hardware store.”

Sometimes Pepper hated living in a small town; nothing was private. Simon had probably told him, which made Pepper wonder how much his brother knew about their short-lived relationship. Grant had been sworn to silence, but she knew he wasn’t big on lying. If someone asked him a question flat out, even about their one-night stand, he’d likely spill. She found it both noble and annoying.

“Smart choice. May I carry that for you?”

Pepper considered his offer for a moment before dumping the large paper sack into his arms. “Yep, thanks.”

“Do you need help putting those blinds up? I could come over and do it for you.”

Pepper had no idea how hard it would be to hang mini-blinds, but she was certain she would figure it out without his assistance. “I would say that was sweet of you to offer, but I know better, so no thanks. Even if hanging them up was akin to building a nuclear warhead, I still wouldn’t call you for help.”

Grant shifted the bag into his left arm and placed a hand dramatically over his chest. “You wound me, Pepper, you really do. I’m only trying to be nice. Just because there’s a chance we might get naked when we’re finished hanging the blinds doesn’t mean it isn’t an altruistic offer.”

“Yes, I’m sure you and Mother Teresa are besties.”

“We text all the time,” Grant said with a wide smile.

Pepper looked at him with a blank expression on her face. “She’s dead, Grant.”

“I know that. It was a joke. Come on, you know I’ll get in your house eventually, Pepper.” He stopped on the sidewalk to consider his words, and then held up his hand. “Okay, that sounded creepy. I meant that one day, you’ll invite me over.”

“Not unless my house is on fire.” It would take a hell of a lot of work before anyone was setting foot in her house, much less a Chamberlain.

“I can wait for a formal invitation that doesn’t require your house burning down.” He smiled, not letting her awkward rebuff get him down. “So, did you hear Ivy’s coming into town tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Pepper pulled out her car keys and unlocked the hatch of her little red SUV. She waited while Grant loaded her things into the back and slammed it closed. When she turned, Grant was far closer than he needed to be. “Take a step back, Grant.”

He did as she asked, albeit reluctantly. “What’s the matter, Pep? Afraid that if you get too close to me, you might fall prey to my charms again?”

“You hush about that,” she warned with a manicured finger jabbing him in the hard wall of his chest. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

His full lips twisted into an amused smile. “Not a soul. That experience was far too sweet to share. I want you all to myself.”

“You’re not going to get me all to yourself. You’ve got to stop pursuing me like this, Grant. People are going to talk.”

He crossed his forearms over his chest, the hard muscles dancing beneath his tanned skin. “People already know I’ve been chasing after you for years.”

“Like Wile E. Coyote and the Road Runner,” Pepper snapped.

“Yeah,” he leaned in to whisper the last part in her ear. “But what they don’t know is that the coyote caught that roadrunner once. And it was good enough for him to want to keep chasing her.”

His hoarse whisper and warm breath on her neck sent a shiver down her spine. She drew in a nervous breath that was heavy with his cologne and felt her body slowly betraying her. There were many reasons why she would never return to Grant’s bed, and this was one of them. She couldn’t control herself around him. When his hands were on her body, she turned into a wanton woman. She wouldn’t, couldn’t allow that to happen again.

If her mother taught her nothing else growing up, it was that the Chamberlain men were not to be trusted. Every single one of them—from Norman Chamberlain in his fifties to Simon, who was just recently old enough to drink—was just out to use her for sex. And when they were done with her, she’d be tossed aside.

That was the thought that stuck with her from her teen years on. When Grant first asked her out in high school, she’d immediately shut that down. Fast-forward ten years and she wasn’t quite as resistant. Her mother would never know that she did give in, just once. And when she did, she made sure it was on her own terms. They went to his place and she was out the door before dawn, making sure that Grant was the one who woke up feeling used for once.

She’d used up every last drop of him. If that was the only taste of him she’d ever get, she had to make it last. Unfortunately, it couldn’t fade into a sweet memory because Grant kept pursuing her.

“Just because you chase me, doesn’t mean you’re going to get me. Ever again. Seriously, Grant. Go chase after another one of your disposable girlfriends and leave me alone.”

Grant planted one hand on the back window of her car and leaned in to her again. He captured a lock of her bright red hair and ran it between his thumb and forefinger to the tips, letting it fall back against her collarbone. “If I believed a word you said,” Grant said, pinning her in place with the intensity of his gaze, “I’d walk away and never bother you again. But your body gives you away, Pepper. That night we spent together was no joke. You can act like it was nothing, but you and I both know the truth.”

Pepper took a ragged breath and stumbled to the side to get out of his gravitational pull. She hated that Grant had the ability to see so much. Her protests were more hollow than she’d like. It had been amazing sex. Earth-shattering, mind-blowing sex. Every night when she lay alone in her bed, she thought about that night. But she wasn’t going to let him know that. He could suspect all he wanted, but she wasn’t about to confirm it. His head was already too big to fit through some smaller doors.

And besides that, when she diminished the intensity of their encounter, he got agitated. She had to take her kicks where she could get them. “It was just sex, Grant. Decent sex, but just sex. You’ve conquered Mount Pepper. Congratulations. Now it’s time to move on to the next challenge. Maybe some young, stupid girl will bid on you at the bachelor auction.”

Grant feigned a hurt expression. “You mean you’re not going to bid on me? I’m disappointed.”

“Grant, I wouldn’t bid on you if I was a millionaire in desperate need of a tax deduction.”

At that, Grant laughed and took a few steps back. All the while his eyes were on her, focused with a heat that reminded her of soft sheets and sweaty skin. “I’ll see you soon, hot stuff.”

Pepper watched him jog across the street to the lot where his motorcycle was parked. He fired up the engine and roared past her, blowing a kiss her way before disappearing down Magnolia Way with a loud rumble of mechanical thunder.

She had no doubt that someone would be paying good money for Grant’s company at the charity auction. A bad boy with good hands was worth every penny. It just wouldn’t be her pennies. Her house came first.

And even if it were in pristine condition and she had cash to burn . . . she was certain a bid on a Chamberlain would make for more trouble than it was worth.

Chapter Three

“Look who’s back in town!”

Grant looked up from his beer when he heard the bartender, Emmett, announce the arrival of their hometown celebrity, Ivy. Outside of Rosewood, she was an international rock star. But when she was in Rosewood, she was just his brother’s fiancée. An amusing fact, considering that for a good part of the last six years, she was his brother’s mortal enemy. Such a fine line between love and hate. That’s what he liked to tell himself whenever Pepper insulted him. The night they spent together left no question in his mind that their animosity could be channeled into an explosive passion. He just wasn’t sure why she was so resistant to it.

He was hoping Pepper would come tonight with Ivy. They were friends. Spending a couple of hours in each other’s company where they had to be relatively polite might do them good. But so far, no Pepper.

Ivy strolled in on Blake’s arm, looking as radiant and chic as she did on television, in a red leather motorcycle jacket. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail that showcased her silver lightning bolt earrings. She certainly hadn’t picked up any of that around town.

Grant slipped off his barstool to welcome them. “Welcome home, Ivy,” he said giving her a big hug.

“Thanks. How are you, Grant? Off rescuing kittens from trees and saving damsels in distress from burning towers?”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Not really. Small-town firemen have a lot of downtime.” He glanced over his shoulder and pointed to the seating area beyond the small dance floor. “There’s a booth in the corner that’s open if you all want to sit over there.”

“Sure,” Blake said, tugging Ivy in that direction.

Grant followed, scooping up his beer and settling into the seat opposite them. “Blake tells me that you accepting his proposal has made him ineligible for the bachelor auction. Are you sure you want to marry him? If you guys broke up for just a month, it would be for a good cause.”

“Hey now!” Blake warned his brother, but Ivy just laughed.

“Sorry, Grant, but I’m sticking it out,” Ivy said. “I’m sure there will be a lot of sad ladies in town, but they already had their chance to land Blake while I was gone. I hear you and Simon are on the auction block, though. Sounds like there’s plenty of Chamberlain meat to fight over.”

Grant snorted. “If you say so.”

The ladies of Rosewood would be very disappointed if they bought Simon expecting a virile, romantic specimen from the Chamberlain family. He seemed afraid of his own shadow sometimes, and considering he was a cop . . . Grant just didn’t get it. He wasn’t much older than Simon, but the gap may as well have been decades.

“Here’s the people I’ve been”—Pepper said brightly as she approached the table, then spied Grant sitting there—“looking for,” she finished, her voice flat.

Grant threw out his most charming smile and slid over in the booth. He gave the empty leather a friendly pat. “Have a seat, Pepper.”

She gave a glowering look to Ivy and then reluctantly settled down in the seat. “Hey, Grant,” she said. “I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight.”

“It must be your lucky night.”

“As long as it’s not yours,” she quipped.

Emmett arrived a moment later, saving them all with an interruption while they ordered drinks. It didn’t last nearly long enough. Before Grant could respond to Pepper, the conversation moved on.

“So, tell us about the new tour,” Pepper suggested.

Ivy started talking, but Grant didn’t pay much attention to what she said. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, it was just hard to focus with Pepper so close to him.

She looked amazing tonight. She had straightened her red curls so the fanlike splay of hair fell in a long, shiny sheet of red around her face. Around Christmas, she’d cut her hair to about shoulder length, but when it was straight, it seemed a lot longer. The bright red was stunning against the flawless creamy complexion of her pale skin.

Grant didn’t know much about makeup. He couldn’t tell eyeliner from blush, but he knew he liked Pepper’s handiwork. She had a smoky cat eye tonight with a shimmer of copper that pulled out the golden highlights in her dark brown eyes.

Pepper caught his gaze for a moment, a pale pink coming to her cheeks. She immediately moved to slip out of her light brown leather jacket. “I think Emmett’s got the heat up a little high for folks that are drinking. Is it hot in here to y’all?” she asked.

“No, it’s just me,” Grant said with a wide grin. She rolled her eyes, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out and helping her with her coat. Her top was sleeveless, he discovered as his fingertips brushed along the bare length of her upper arm. The touch was charged, like static electricity that buzzed along his skin and sent a bolt of awareness up his arm.

Pepper felt it, too, he could tell. She hesitated for a moment, a soft hitch in her breathing. An instant later she shook off the reaction, along with her coat, and pretended like nothing had happened. “Thank you,” she said reluctantly, without meeting his eyes.

Grant knew that her eyes would give her away, but he couldn’t really press the issue with his brother and future sister-in-law across the table. Playful banter was one thing, serious seduction was another. “You’re welcome,” he said instead.

“You’re wearing the scarf I got you for Christmas!” Ivy said to Pepper; her declaration like a bunch of neutrons spilling into the space and negating the charged environment around them.

Pepper beamed as she adjusted the beige-and-brown-plaid scarf around her neck. “Yes, I love it. The fabric is light, and yet it’s so warm. The winter has been brutal this year.”

“I’m glad you like it. When I saw it, I just knew it was perfect for you.”

“It looks nice on you. It has the same colors in it as your eyes.” Grant’s statement slipped through his lips without him fully thinking it through.

Blake narrowed his gaze at him across the table. “Have you been spending a lot of time gazing lovingly into Pepper’s eyes, Grant?”

“No,” he said, with a dismissive snort. “She won’t hold still long enough.”

“That’s right,” Pepper chimed in.

“I just happened to notice while she was sitting here now.” Grant stopped himself from continuing on. He was protesting too much. He wanted to spend time gazing into her eyes, but he’d told the truth before. She was like a hummingbird, zipping around so he couldn’t get a good enough look.

Fortunately, Emmett arrived at the perfect moment with drinks and pretzels. After that, Pepper deflected the conversation by steering it toward Ivy and Blake’s upcoming wedding plans. From what Grant could gather, the answer was that they didn’t have anything planned and they were waiting at least another year before they got married, and yet the girls chatted on the subject long enough for Grant to finish his beer and start to get antsy.

“You wanna play pinball?” he finally asked Blake.

Although he had a vested interest in the discussion, he, too, seemed interested in escaping. “Sure.”

They excused themselves, got some quarters from Emmett, and went to the pinball machine to play a few rounds. Grant had beaten his older brother’s score the last two out of three rounds. He was about to gloat when Blake beat him to it.

“So when did you and Pepper start sleeping together?”

“Sleeping together?” Grant said a little too loudly. He glanced around, hoping Pepper hadn’t noticed. She was still chatting animatedly with Ivy, thank goodness. “We are not sleeping together.” And that was true. They slept together. Once. Past tense.

Blake gave him a stern look that reminded him of their father when he was interrogating Grant for staying out after curfew or “borrowing” his car to take out a girl. He knew well enough how to get answers out of Grant. “Did you or did you not have sex with Pepper Anthony?”

Blake was even starting to sound like their dad, lawyer speak and all. Grant twisted his lips in thought and considered his answer. “That’s an entirely different question. And the answer to it is yes, I did.”

“When?” Blake pressed.

“Last Halloween.” Grant stepped aside to let Blake have his turn at the game. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. His gaze traveled back to where Pepper and Ivy were talking. “We met up at a costume party here and really seemed to hit it off. Might’ve been the Jell-O shots.”

“Did she know it was you or did you have on a mask?”

“She knew it was me. I was lazy and dressed as a fireman. Doesn’t matter, though. It was just a onetime thing, so I didn’t mention it to anyone.”

“Was that your decision or hers? I would’ve thought you’d move on after you guys finally hooked up.”

So did Grant. “It was her choice. Honestly, she couldn’t get out of my place fast enough. I woke up and she was gone. Wouldn’t you know that one of the only times I was interested enough in a woman to see her again, she blew me off?”

Blake watched the silver pinball bounce under the plexiglass as he spoke. “Sounds like karma to me—payback for every woman you ran out on over the years. What did you expect to happen? Her family and ours don’t exactly get along. Her brother, Logan, and I got into it a couple of times in high school. I can’t imagine he’d be happy to find out that you’d tapped his baby sister.”

“Baby sister? She’s older than I am.”

The last of the pinballs sank between the flippers and Blake cussed. Turning to look at Grant he asked, “That doesn’t matter to Logan. So, are you wanting to see her again? Maybe I can get Ivy to put in a good word for you.”

Grant laughed bitterly. Both women had turned to watch them with mischievous twinkles in their eyes. He didn’t like the look of it. “I do want to see her again, but I doubt that would work.”

Glancing around, Grant noticed the bar had gotten pretty busy. Almost all of the tables were occupied and there were even a few couples on the dance floor. The floor itself was a holdover from the line-dancing craze of the early nineties. Woody’s was more of a cowboy bar back then, and folks came from all around to stand in line and dance together like robots. Grant was glad to have been in diapers back then.

But today it was just a wide spot in the bar, though every now and then, a few folks would dance. Tonight was one of those nights. Guys seemed to be stepping up their game in anticipation of the Valentine’s holiday coming up. Grant didn’t dance. Ever. Well, at least not unless he thought it would lead to sex.

“Wonder why they’re looking at us like that,” Blake said. The girls got up from the table and made their way over to where they were standing.

“Dance with me?” Ivy asked.

Blake nodded and led Ivy out onto the dance floor, leaving Grant and Pepper alone by the pinball machine. They stood there awkwardly for a moment. “I would ask if you wanted to dance, but I didn’t figure you’d want me touching you.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t mind. It beats standing around.”

He’d stepped into that one. “Okay.” They joined the ten or so other people on the dance floor and did the clumsy shuffle as they tried to figure out how to position themselves together. They settled on a classic ballroom pose, one the chaperones at school would’ve been proud of, they were so far apart.

“I don’t understand you,” Grant said after they swayed back and forth a few times to the ballad booming from the jukebox in the corner.

Pepper looked surprised by his statement. “What don’t you understand?”

“You’re like a broken traffic light. Nothing but mixed signals. I don’t know whether I should stop or go with you.”

Pepper frowned. “You should probably just go. Go far away and leave me alone.”

Even as she said the words, he could sense she didn’t mean them. She was conflicted and he didn’t know why. Grant lowered his arm to wrap it around Pepper’s waist and pull their bodies flush together. She gasped as they collided, her soft curves against his hard muscles. Her glossy lips parted and her dark brown eyes were wide as she looked up at him.

“You can feel this, can’t you?”

“I can feel something,” she said, recovering with a sly smile.

“I’m not talking about that, damn it. I mean this connection between us. You feel it. I know you do. I don’t know why you insist on ignoring it.”

“Maybe it’s because you’ve ‘connected’ with half the women in this town. Did you ever think that I’m not so keen on being added to the long roster of Grant’s conquests?”

“To be blunt, you’ve already been conquered. If that was all I wanted, I could’ve moved on by now.”

“Then what do you want from me, Grant?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I want you back in my bed. Sometimes I want you to look at me in public like I didn’t have a social disease. Other times, I just want you to be willing to acknowledge that we had an amazing night together. You act like it was nothing. It wasn’t nothing. Tell me why you don’t want anyone to know we were together. Are you ashamed of being with me?”

“No, I’m ashamed that I’m so weak that I finally gave in to you. There are four men in this town I’ve sworn to avoid. One is off in med school, one is engaged to my friend, and one is afraid of me. That just left you. All I had to do was stay away from you. And I couldn’t do it.”

“You know, most people in town think the Chamberlain family is great. Dating one of us is supposed to be a big deal. But your family acts like we clawed our way out of the cesspool. Why?” he pressed.

Pepper avoided his gaze and shook her head. “I think I’ve had enough dancing for one night.” She dropped her arms at her side and backed away. “Ivy, I’m going to head home. I’ve had a long day.”

“Okay. Good night,” Ivy said, pulling away from Blake to give Pepper a hug. “Text me when you get home.”

Pepper nodded and gathered up her things from the booth before she headed for the door. Grant waited until the others were distracted and slipped outside behind her. She was standing just beyond the door, tugging her jacket back on, when he approached her.

Grant scanned the parking lot and frowned. “Where’s your car?”

Pepper looked up with a pinched expression when he spoke. “I didn’t bring my car. Since it’s only a few blocks and I wanted to have a couple of drinks, I walked.” She slung her purse onto her shoulder and stepped down into the gravel of the parking lot.

Grant stepped down after her. “You’re walking home by yourself?”

That made Pepper stop and turn to him with her arms crossed over her chest in irritation. The move pushed her breasts up higher, until the firm globes of flesh he vividly remembered were proudly on display. God bless the man who invented V-neck tops.

“What are my options, Grant? No one else lives around here. All my neighbors are retirees who went to bed four hours ago. Do you suggest I start barhopping with my deaf, seventy-year-old neighbor Phyllis? Or maybe I should catch a cab.” Pepper walked to the curb and held out her hand to summon an imaginary taxi on the deserted streets.

“Stop being ridiculous. I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh, no!” Pepper said with a firm shake of her head.

“Come on, Pepper. You can’t walk home alone at this late hour. That weirdo is still running around town. Simon says they don’t know who it is.”

“I’m fine,” she argued. “I live three blocks from here. I don’t need you to walk me home.”

“It would make me feel better if I did.”

Pepper smirked and planted her hands on her hips. “The only thing you’re going to feel is disappointment. You’re not getting any more sex out of me, Grant. Not if you put up my mini-blinds, not if you walk me home, not if you buy me a drink and butter me up with compliments. It happened. It’s over. Good night.”

Grant watched as Pepper spun on her heel and marched off into the darkness. He frowned as he watched her go. He didn’t like the idea of her walking home alone and not just because he was trying to work her. She’d already been a victim of the peeper once. What if that pervert was out there right now, watching her?

To make himself feel better, he was going to make sure she got home safely. She just didn’t need to know about it.

Pepper didn’t turn around. She didn’t want to look behind her and see that smug, sexy face of Grant’s watching her walk away. It was bad enough that she was walking with an extra swish in her step in case he was watching her ass.

Originally, she’d hoped that she could catch a ride home with someone, but leaving early put the kibosh on that. Even though she wasn’t thrilled about the walk home, she couldn’t let him walk with her. Her resistance was wearing thin where he was concerned. After a stiff drink and a light dinner, she could get talked into something she would later regret. She might sleep with him again, or worse, let him into her house.

She paused on the sidewalk for a moment to pull out her pepper spray, and then continued on and across the street toward Pizza Palace. Once the lights of the restaurant faded and Pepper was deep into the darker residential section of Daisy Drive, she felt herself stepping a little faster down the street.

She wished Sheriff Todd would hurry up and catch the peeper so she didn’t feel uncomfortable in her hometown anymore. With her mini-blinds hung in the kitchen, she’d put the unpleasant incident behind her, but Grant was right: He could be out there right now, creeping through the bushes. Watching her walk home.

Pepper glanced over her shoulder once, secretly hoping that maybe Grant was behind her, but the sidewalk was empty and dark. Of all the times he would listen to her . . .

A loud snap of a twig in the yard beside her sent a surge of panic through her. She jumped, her eyes searching the darkness but not seeing any movement. “It’s probably just a raccoon,” she told herself, and started walking double time down the street. She hated that for the second time in a week, she was fearfully dashing through her own neighborhood. If they ever got that peeper, she was going to give him a sharp tap to the twig and berries.

Up ahead was the intersection with Second Avenue and the streetlights there would be brighter. She was almost to her house. No sweat.

“Pepper?”

She felt someone’s hand brush her shoulder, and reacting instantly, Pepper lifted her pepper spray and pressed the nozzle. It sent a long stream at the dark figure, which backed away and screamed.

“Jesus, Pepper,” the man moaned through clenched teeth. “What’s wrong with you?”

The slumped figure stumbled back into a yard and the porch light illuminated Grant’s bright red, tear-streaked face. He had her scarf in his hand. She must have dropped it. Now he did, letting the fabric slip through his fingers as he fell to his knees. He curled into a ball, groaning, and then whipped his shirt off to rub the material into his eyes.

“Don’t rub, it makes it worse!” Pepper shoved her spray back in her purse and ran up to his side. “You dumbass,” she said, crouching down. “Why the hell are you following me?”

“I wanted you to be safe.” He rolled onto his back and buried the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Apparently you don’t need my help.”

“I told you that.”

“Can we argue about how you’re always right after we flush my eyes?”

Pepper looked around, but she couldn’t exactly use someone’s hose in the middle of the night. It was too far to go back to the bar. That left her one regrettable choice. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She helped hoist Grant back to his feet and led him down the street to her front porch. His eyes were puffy and swollen shut. If there was any time she had to let Grant into her house, this was it. He wouldn’t be able to see how bad it was.

Grant stumbled across her hardwood floors to the kitchen. She leaned him over the sink and spent several minutes flushing his eyes with cool water. That seemed to help.

“Stay here, I’m going to get some milk.”

“Thirsty, kitten?”

Pepper sighed. “You know, I thought burning capsaicin in your eyes would shut down that mouth, but I was wrong.” She pulled a jug of milk from the refrigerator and poured some into a bowl. She soaked a couple paper towels in the milk, then carried the bowl into the living room. She left it on the table beside the bed, then returned to the kitchen to retrieve her patient.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To the living room. You’re going to lie down and I’m going to—”

“Unbutton my pants?”

Pepper placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him down onto the bed. “Your pants are staying on,” she replied. “Lay back, please.” It was bad enough his shirt was off. Missing now, actually. He probably left it in someone’s yard. Perfect. Not only was Grant in her house, he was half-naked and lying on her bed.

He leaned over, removing his boots before he eased back to lie among the pillows. It would seem a thoughtful thing to do if it didn’t put him one piece of clothing closer to naked.

“I’m going to put some paper towels over your eyes that have been soaked in milk. We’ll need to just leave those on for a few minutes, then we’ll apply some ice.”

“Does milk work on the pepper spray the same way drinking it helps with the burn of hot wings?”

“You’ve got it.”

“Okay. Thanks.” It was the first thing he said all night that didn’t seem to have some sexual undertone.

Pepper squeezed out some of the milk, then laid the wet towels over his eyes. Grant immediately sighed in relief, his whole body relaxing into her bed. With the rag over his eyes and his pain subsiding, she didn’t feel guilty about letting her gaze stray to the hard, exposed body lying across her bed.

Grant was a hard-carved piece of man; a thought that brought the awkward conversation with Miss Vera back to mind. But she’d been right. Every muscle seemed to hover just beneath the thin layer of his skin, outlining every detail. The sprinkle of dark chest hair over his pecs narrowed into a trail down his stomach, disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. She’d followed that path with her tongue that night they spent together. The thought was enough to make her shift uncomfortably in her seat.

It had been a while since she’d been with a man. Grant had been her last lover, in fact. With everything happening with her dad, she simply hadn’t given her love life much thought. She was reacting to Grant because she was hard up and he was pretty. That was it. Nothing more would come of it. They weren’t compatible. And even if they were . . . he was a Chamberlain. He didn’t seem to understand what that meant, but to her, it was a deal breaker. End of story.

“You know, if those pants are in your way, you can just move them.”

Pepper’s gaze moved back up to Grant’s face, where he’d lifted one of the paper towels to spy on her. Only a tiny slit of his eye would open, but it was enough for him to catch her ogling him.

“Please stop suggesting we remove your pants. It’s bad enough you aren’t wearing a shirt.”

“I think I dropped it in the Robertsons’ yard.”

“You can pick it up on your way back to the bar.”

Grant frowned and lowered the towel back over his eyes. “You’re going to throw me out into the cold, dark night after assaulting me?”

“Yes.” Pepper stood up and moved from the bed. She needed a little more space between them. “Are you thirsty?” she asked, looking for something to occupy her hands.

“No, I’m fine. Well, I’m not fine, you shot burning liquid in my eyes, but I’m not thirsty. I could use something else, though, if you’re offering.”

Pepper sighed. She would never live this one down, she was pretty certain, but she wouldn’t allow him to guilt her into sexual favors to make up for it. “Nice try. If you’re no longer in agonizing pain, why don’t we talk about why you’re following me home like a creepy stalker?”

Grant fought his way up into a seated position, keeping his face tilted to the ceiling so his towels didn’t slip. “I am not a creepy stalker. You wouldn’t let me walk you home, so I thought I’d just follow behind and make sure you got home safe. Then you dropped your scarf. I had no intention of making my presence known until I saw it lying there. I knew I had to give it to you so you didn’t go back out looking for it later. There is a weirdo out there, but it’s not me.”

“And you didn’t think sneaking up on a woman walking home alone in the dark was a bad idea?”

“Well, maybe, but I had no idea you were armed with Mace. I would’ve kept my distance and left the scarf on your porch if I’d thought you were going to come for me like that.”

Pepper pulled a chair out of the kitchen and sat down. “You don’t advertise that kind of thing.”

“Well, your future safety is secured. Once people find out what happened tonight, the whole town is going to know you carry pepper spray. No one will touch you.”

Including him? The unhelpful question popped into Pepper’s head, making her close her eyes and shake her head slowly. Why was it that the one man in town she couldn’t have was the one man in town she wanted? And who seemed to want her?

Their one-night stand was supposed to put an end to all this. End the curiosity and the anticipation. The reality was supposed to sink in so they could both move on. It had totally backfired. Now she just had this hot memory that rushed to mind every time she saw him, or thought about him, or he inappropriately propositioned her on a public sidewalk. It didn’t help her resolve anything at all.

“This place needs a lot of work. Why is your bed in the living room?”

Pepper’s eyes flew open at Grant’s observation. He had pulled up one side of the towel again and was investigating her house, just as she feared. “I know it needs work. The bedrooms aren’t usable right now. There’s a reason no one is allowed in the house, Grant.”

“No one, huh? I thought it was just me.”

“No. My own family hasn’t even been in here yet. You’re actually the first person to step foot into my home.”

Grant smiled, his chest slightly puffing up at his ability to make it over the threshold of her private abode, as though he had charmed his way inside. Then he looked around and squinted at the little home she had cobbled together for herself. “You need to invite some more people over. Like a carpenter, an electrician, a plumber, a painter . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Very astute of you,” Pepper noted with a frown. She knew it was bad. She didn’t need someone else pointing it out and making it seem even worse. “Yes, it needs a lot of work. But work takes money, and money takes time. I’ve finally saved up about five thousand dollars, and the week before Valentine’s Day, I’m going to get the ball rolling.”

“That might be enough to make it livable.”

“And that,” Pepper said standing up, “must be enough milk. Let’s load up a Baggie with ice and get you home.”

“Why?” He pouted, pulling the last of the damp towels from his eyes.

Pepper smiled as sweetly as she could. “Because you can see. And if you can see, you’re miraculously cured and I no longer have to keep you in my home.”

Chapter Four

“How many times do I have to tell you, Grant? When a woman says no, she means no.”

Grant looked up at Blake’s amused expression as he strolled into the living room of their family home. “Very funny,” he muttered. He should’ve known better than to show up for Sunday dinner today. He was certain to draw his fair share of harassment for his puffy, bloodshot eyes. He’d hoped when he woke up, the swelling would have gone down. And it had. He could see just enough to drive. But he still looked like hell. “So how did you find out?” he asked.

“Pepper told Ivy, who told me, of course.”

“Perfect. Does anyone else know?”

Blake shrugged, but Grant had a hard time buying his aloof response. That wasn’t the way his family worked. There were virtually no secrets. Well, there was the one only he knew about—the one he kept about his father’s extracurricular activities—but for the most part, if one of them knew something, they all knew it. That meant at least three out of his five siblings were about to give him a ribbing. Thank goodness his older brother Mitchell was away at med school and his baby sister, Hazel, was too nice. She was the only one of the children without blue eyes and the only one without a vindictive streak a mile long.

This was confirmed as Maddie bounced down the stairs with a wicked grin on her face that contrasted sharply to her perky ponytail and fuzzy pink sweater. “Aww, don’t cry, Grant. I’m sure there’s another red-haired skank in town for you to chase after.”

“Shut your mouth, Maddie, or you’ll be the one crying,” Grant snapped. He loved his family, but sometimes, loving his older sister, Madelyn, was the hardest of all. He didn’t know how Mitchell withstood nine months in the womb with her. She was a French-trained pastry chef whose beautiful confections made even the toughest person smile. You’d expect her to be friendly and happy. But she wasn’t—at least not unless she was with her gaggle of girlfriends making fun of someone. She was a mean girl who hadn’t grown out of it when school ended, the way he’d hoped.

He was getting tired of her opinion where Pepper was concerned. She always had a nasty quip, a dig, an insult whenever Grant mentioned her. They had been in the same grade together, so he’d been hearing this long before he started pursuing the redhead. Pepper didn’t like his family, and Maddie didn’t help the matter. It was no wonder Pepper was hesitant to be seen with him.

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’m really scared,” she mocked, and headed on toward the kitchen. Before he could get up from the couch, Simon came in the room, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Grant sighed. Yes, everyone knew.

“So,” Simon began, “we got a report last night of a grown man screaming in the Robertsons’ front yard around midnight. Know anything about that?”

“I was not screaming.”

“What would you call bellyaching so loudly you woke an eighty-four-year-old deaf man from a sound sleep?”

“Unfortunate.” Grant clapped his hands on his thighs and got up. He was about three seconds from bailing on dinner. He could just as easily pick up a calzone from Pizza Palace and eat it in peace.

That was when their mother, Helen, came into the room. Her hazel eyes swept over her three boys, her brow drawn together in concern. When she finally stopped at Grant, she frowned. “Cookie says that supper is ready. Grant, what did you do to your face?”

“A girl pepper sprayed him,” Hazel chimed in as she skipped past them toward the dining room. Her voice was more chipper than he’d heard in a long time. She seemed to be getting an inordinate amount of joy out of his situation. Perhaps Grant was wrong about her being the nice one.

Their mother’s mouth dropped open, her delicately manicured hand flying up to cover it. “Oh sweet heavens, are you okay?” She rushed over to where Grant was standing to examine his injuries. At least she seemed worried about him. Everyone else just wanted to tease him about it.

“I’m fine, Mama.”

“Is it still tender? Did you put milk on it?”

He reached for her hands and pulled them away from his eyes. “Yes, Mama. It just happened last night, though, so it’s still a little red.”

Helen reluctantly backed off, but he could tell she was itching to start fussing over him. If he wasn’t careful, she’d have him in a dark guest room with ice packs on his eyes. At the moment, that didn’t sound all bad. It would at least get him away from his siblings, but he was too old to have his mama playing nursemaid.

“Everyone wash up for supper, please,” she said instead, commanding the boys to march off toward the powder room in the foyer.

Grant was the last out of the restroom, joining a full table for supper. His grandmother Adelia, parents, and siblings were all assembled there, waiting on him. He took the empty seat in the center of the table, directly across from Maddie. As much as he didn’t like having to look at her all afternoon, at least he wasn’t looking directly at his father or his grandmother. He’d prefer they didn’t notice his injury and kick off the conversation anew.

Instead, he bowed his head and his father said grace, then focused on filling his plate. Cookie, the Chamberlain housekeeper and chef, had outdone herself today. There was a glazed spiral ham, squash casserole with a crumbly cracker topping, roasted red potatoes, green beans with bacon, cornbread, and if his nose judged correctly . . . carrot cake. Screw pizza. He’d take the abuse from his family for Cookie’s food any day.

The older woman’s name was actually Courtney, but the story went that Blake couldn’t say Courtney as a baby and called her Cookie, so it stuck. Grant had a hard time looking at the plump, smiling woman in her sixties and referring to her as anything other than Cookie.

As he put a bite of the creamy, cheesy squash casserole in his mouth, he realized he’d call her whatever she wanted him to. Man, it was good.

Grant managed to get through about half of his plate before the conversation started rolling at the table again.

“Grant, dear,” his mother began, “tell us what happened last night. Who is it that pepper sprayed you?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, Mama.”

“It was Ivy’s friend Pepper,” Blake added, always helpful.

Helen frowned. “Pepper Anthony? From down at the salon on the square?”

“Yes,” Grant said.

His grandmother watched him thoughtfully for a moment, thus far silent on the subject of his puffy, red eyes. “What did you do to her?” she asked at last.

It was bad enough he didn’t get any sympathy for his wounds. His family had to add insult to injury by assuming that he did something to deserve it. “I startled her. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, for chrissakes,” Norman muttered, shoving a buttered piece of cornbread in his mouth. “Stay away from that girl, Grant. That whole family is trouble.”

Grant swallowed his bitter response. The last man on earth he’d want relationship advice from was his father. The man hadn’t drawn a monogamous breath in his life. It was an unfortunate truth he’d stumbled upon when he was only eleven, and he’d been bombarded with the signs of his father’s infidelity ever since. It wasn’t Grant’s sin, but he couldn’t be the one to tell his mother that her husband was unfaithful. He certainly couldn’t confide in his siblings and burden them with that painful knowledge, either. It was bad enough he had to know the truth and keep the secret.

Seeing that other woman in his father’s arms had been a life-shaping moment for him. Everything changed. That was why Grant didn’t lie. He was as honest as he could be about everything he could. He already had one giant secret weighing on his conscience, he didn’t want another.

“Wasn’t it her brother Logan that broke Blake’s nose in high school?” Helen asked.

“Yes,” Grant spoke up, happy not to talk about himself for a minute. “Let’s discuss Logan beating up Blake.”

“Let’s not,” Norman said, his face drawing down into a sour frown. “How are your eyes? Do you want to press charges? That’s assault, you know.”

“I’m fine, please. And no, I’m not pressing charges. It was an accident. It could’ve happened to anyone.” Grant reached out to the platter of ham and used the carving fork to stab a slice and lay it on his plate.

“Well, that’s what you get for slumming with that trash,” Maddie said.

Grant leapt out of his chair, lunging across the dining room table until the carving fork was about an inch from Maddie’s throat. He ignored the gasps and startled words of his family around him. “You take that back,” he warned with an uncharacteristically cold tone.

“Or what?” Maddie didn’t even blink. She knew Grant wouldn’t hurt her, even though she deserved it. “You going to stab me with that fork like a glazed ham?”

“You and every member of your stuck-up, condescending pack of hyenas would deserve it if I did. You’re not better than everyone else, Maddie. Now, take it back.”

Maddie bristled at his suggestion but scooted her chair back just enough to get out of Grant’s reach. Norman reached out and took the fork from Grant’s hand and stared him down until he was back in his chair.

“We haven’t had a stabbing at Sunday dinner since Hazel got Simon for taking the last piece of cake,” Norman noted calmly. “Let’s not break our streak, shall we?”

“I was three!” Hazel protested from behind her square glasses.

“It didn’t hurt any less because you were three,” Simon grumbled. “I got seven stitches in my thigh from that.”

“Enough,” Norman said, his voice raised just over polite discussion levels. He rarely raised his voice, even in the courtroom. “Let’s talk about something else. Anything else.”

“I heard the peeper struck Gloria Everett Friday night,” Maddie offered, her gaze fixed on Grant with an apologetic smile. That was as close to an “I’m sorry” as he was going to get. He’d take it.

“Gloria, the high school principal?”

“Yes, I overheard her when she was in the bakery yesterday to order a tray of croissants and muffins for the teacher-appreciation breakfast the seniors are hosting.”

The topic shift started the table buzzing and soon everyone was speculating on the creep’s identity and had forgotten all about Grant’s eyes. He let them talk, happy to eat his ham and roasted potatoes in peace at last.

It wasn’t until he carried his dish into the kitchen when they were finished that his grandmother caught his attention and summoned him to her library.

She sat him down in the seat opposite her large mahogany desk. “What’s going on between you two? You and the Anthony girl?”

Grant sighed and slumped back in the chair. He wasn’t going to lie about what happened, especially not to his own grandmother. But he didn’t relish telling her the truth, either. “We had a brief thing,” he said, being as vague as humanly possible.

“A one-night thing?” she asked, and he nodded.

“Holding a carving fork to your sister’s throat over an insult seems like a bit of an overreaction for a one-night stand.”

“It was just in my hand at the time,” he argued. “I could have just as easily threatened her with my spoon.”

His grandmother watched him over the top of her glasses. “Grant?” she prompted.

“She deserves better than the way Maddie treats her. The way a lot of people treat her. So what, she grew up poor? She’s done a lot for herself over the years. She’s worked hard, bought her own house. People just won’t let it go. Stupid small towns with small minds,” he lamented.

Adelia nodded slowly, although he was wondering how much more she was reading into his words than he was saying. “What is it about Pepper that makes her different from the other girls you’ve dated?”

That was a good question. He’d asked himself that a hundred times. Why did he want her so badly? Why was she the one woman he couldn’t get out of his head? He gave the only answer he could come up with. “She doesn’t want me,” he said. “Although I don’t know why that’s appealing.”

“You’re used to getting whatever you want without trying very much, especially when it comes to the ladies. You’re like your father that way. When he was young, all he had to do was smile and the girls would trip all over themselves like they do with you.”

He didn’t enjoy that comparison, but he knew it was true. The difference was that his father continued to charm the women long after he was married. Grant refused to commit so he wouldn’t be tempted to make the same mistake. You can’t cheat when there’s no one waiting for you at home to cheat on.

“I think you’ll find that sometimes,” his grandmother continued, “working hard for something makes it that much sweeter when you succeed.”

Grant had to admit the night they spent together was exceptionally sweet. At least up until he woke up alone. He’d never had a woman walk out on him like that. Of course, that was because he usually bailed first. Pepper had turned the tables on him that night and he liked it.

A lot.

“Pepper, can you fit in an emergency cut and color?”

Pepper sat aside her broom and looked at her appointment book to confirm. She nodded to Sarah. “Yeah. My two o’clock canceled, so I don’t have another client in until Colette comes in for her relaxant at four. Who is it?”

Sarah held the phone to her chest, a smirk twisting her lips. She reminded Pepper of Ivy when she did that. Adelia Chamberlain, she mouthed silently.

Pepper’s brow shot up in surprise. “She wants to get her hair done here?” As far as she knew, none of the Chamberlains had ever set foot in Curls before. Maddie went to Birmingham to the same salon her best friend Lydia Whittaker used. Neither of them cared for Pepper or Ivy, and the feeling was mutual, so coming to Curls was just like begging for Pepper to dish out some retribution for the years of hell they gave her in school. Adelia and Helen usually went to a salon in Gadsden and had since before Curls opened.

Sarah nodded. It must really be an emergency if she was willing to darken their doorstop. Miss Adelia was rarely even seen in town anymore. Pepper had been planning to take a late lunch to fill the time, but she wasn’t about to turn down anyone’s money, even Chamberlain money.

“If she can make it on short notice, she can have the slot.”

Sarah turned her back and returned to talking on the phone to Miss Adelia. A moment later, she nodded and gave Pepper a thumbs-up to confirm. Pepper returned to sweeping up the tiny bits of hair from the floor that her last haircut left behind. She had just intended to tidy up a little bit, but knowing that Adelia Chamberlain was coming into the shop sent her on a rare cleaning bender. She would be here in a half hour. Pepper’s station wasn’t exactly messy, but it could use some tidying up.

She wiped down her chair and tabletop, putting away combs and clips, and stowing her curling iron and hair dryer in their slots. She restocked her foils in case Adelia wanted highlights and set up a new cart with color-mixing bowls and brushes to have ready. Last, she hung a clean cape on the hook beside her station and put out a fresh stack of towels.

Once she was finished, she stowed the broom and grabbed her purse to run out for food. She didn’t notice Sarah watching her until she was about to leave. Sarah’s client was sitting under the hair dryer, so Pepper’s boss was standing by the front counter. Her arms were crossed over her chest, an amused grin on her face.

“What?” Pepper asked.

“I’ve never seen your station that tidy before.”

Pepper shrugged. “So?”

“So, I thought you didn’t care about the Chamberlains.”

“I don’t,” she argued. And she didn’t. Not really.

“But you’re doing your damnedest to impress one of them,” she noted.

Pepper sighed and shook her head. “There’s a difference between trying to impress someone and trying not to give them any more ammunition to fire at you. Half that family thinks I’m trash. I don’t want to have a messy work space that just reinforces that in her mind. Besides,” she added, “if she likes my work, maybe she’ll come back. I could use the money.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay,” she said, but there was a gleam of humor in her eyes. “You’d better hurry if you’re going to be back in time.”

“See you in a bit.” Pepper stepped out onto the street and headed straight for the Piggly Wiggly. There, she got a sandwich at the deli, a bag of Golden Flake chips, and a bottle of diet Sundrop. On the way back, she eyed the window display of Petal Pushers, Miss Francine’s shop. She couldn’t remember the last time she went in there.

She stuck her head inside and noticed the large, refrigerated case of grab-and-go bouquets. Why not? She snatched up a nice bundle of gerbera daisies in hot pink, red, orange, and yellow. They would look nice and cheerful on the counter in the salon.

“Nice choice,” Miss Francine said as she rung up the purchase. “Some bright flowers are always nice on a gloomy winter day.”

“Exactly,” Pepper agreed, handing over some money and slipping out of the store before Miss Francine could draw her into a long conversation.

Back at the salon, Sarah was busy with her client, so Pepper was able to slip into the back room to eat and find a vase for her flowers. By the time Miss Adelia strolled into the salon, Pepper had eaten, brushed her teeth, washed her hands, and proudly displayed the neon-hued bouquet on the front counter by the register and product display.

“It’s good to see you, Miss Adelia,” Pepper said as she greeted the older woman. The Chamberlains were Rosewood royalty, and Adelia Chamberlain was the family matriarch. She was a proud, poised woman who looked only a fraction of her age and not because she’d had work done. She had wrinkles, but not many, likely from avoiding the sun and using expensive creams for her skin. Her hair was a soft white and shoulder length, gathered at the nape of her neck in fat curls.

There wasn’t the slightest indication of frailty in her, even though Pepper’s best guess was that she was probably in her late seventies or early eighties. Her blue eyes were bright, surveying Pepper behind the square glasses that rode low on her sharp, aristocratic nose.

“Thank you for fitting me in today. My stylist had to cancel for a medical emergency and I wanted to get my hair done before the auction.”

Pepper smiled and held her arm out to guide Adelia back to her station. “I had a last-minute cancellation, so I guess it’s fate.” She helped the older woman stow her things and settle into the rotating chair. “What would you like to have done today?”

“My color is natural,” she began, “so my stylist normally does a clarifying shampoo and a glaze to maintain the color. That, and a trim, should do nicely.”

Pepper nodded. That was exactly what she was thinking. Miss Adelia had thick, beautiful white hair. White hair had the tendency to yellow from exposure to pollutants and buildup from hair products. “We’ve gotten in a wonderful platinum glaze that I think will be perfect. Does your stylist give you violet shampoo to use between visits?”

Adelia shook her head, watching Pepper’s reflection in the mirror as she ran her fingers through her hair. “No. What does that do?”

“It helps maintain the color by counteracting any yellow tones. Your color is beautiful, like pearls, but with the shampoo, you might be able to go a little longer between appointments. I’ll give you a sample to try and see if you like it.”

Adelia nodded. “Thank you.”

Pepper took the cape off the hook and swung it around her client’s body, snapping it closed at the back of her neck. “Okay, let’s take you back to do that clarifying shampoo, then I’ll apply the glaze.”

She tried to be as upbeat and friendly as she could be, but Pepper was a ball of nerves as she worked on the arguably most powerful and influential woman in town. Maybe even the county. It didn’t help that Miss Adelia wasn’t particularly chatty. Unlike Vera or Dotty, who prattled on the entire time, Adelia seemed comfortable in silence. Or perhaps, she was just lost in her thoughts. She seemed to be in a constant state of almost judging Pepper, somehow, appraising every move she made. It made Pepper double-think everything she did and it was just a silly shampoo job.

Once they returned to the chair, Pepper mixed up the platinum glaze to apply to Adelia’s hair. “You know, you’re not my first client to mention the auction today. It seems like everyone is getting spiffed up for it. Hopefully it will get a good turnout. Are you planning on bidding on someone special, Miss Adelia?”

Adelia chuckled low and shook her head. “Oh, no. Charles was my one and only love, and I’m okay with that. As soon as I see my grandchildren settled and happy, I’ll be all too pleased to join him in the hereafter. But I like to support the community, of course, so I’ll be buying a ticket and attending the event. What about you, dear?”

Pepper had donned her gloves and was about to start brushing on the glaze, but she paused. “No, ma’am. I’ll be attending with Ivy and Blake, but my paddle is staying firmly in my lap. I couldn’t afford to buy a date even if I wanted to.”

Adelia watched Pepper’s reflection in the mirror as she spoke. “There’s a pretty impressive list of bachelors,” she said, her tone baiting Pepper to bite. “Grant, for example, has volunteered. I hear he has a nice date planned.”

She wasn’t exactly sure where the older woman was going with this line of conversation. Did she actually want Pepper to bid on Grant? She couldn’t fathom why. If Pepper were in her shoes, she wouldn’t pick the poor hairdresser for her charismatic young grandson. Of course, with the rapid rotation of women through his life, she just might be desperate enough to see him settled down with anyone. Pepper just wasn’t the one.

“Don’t tell him I said this,” Adelia said as she turned to Pepper and spoke softly so no one else could hear her, “but I think he’d like you to be the one to bid on him.”

Pepper started brushing on the glaze, focusing on her work and hoping the older woman would find a new subject. “Did you get that impression before or after I nearly blinded him Saturday night? All things considered, it may be for the best that I leave well enough alone.”

“I don’t think he blames you for that. He realizes it was a stupid thing to do, sneaking up on a single woman walking by herself at night.”

“Well, that’s good to know, but it doesn’t really make a difference. I’m certain that the high bid on Grant will be far higher than I could ever pay. Just the other day, I overheard some ladies talking about how handsome he is. I think the women in this town have been saving their pennies to get their chance with the bad boy and his Harley Davidson. Me? All my pennies are going into renovating my house.”

“You bought the old Watson house on Daisy Drive, didn’t you?”

Pepper nodded, relieved for the conversation to veer off the subject of the verboten Grant Chamberlain. “It was left to rot for so long, I have to virtually rebuild it one room at a time.”

“That’s a shame his children let it go downhill like that. Those little historic homes are so charming. They could’ve gotten more money for it if they’d cared for it.”

“They wouldn’t have gotten my money. It took everything I had to put a down payment on the house in the condition it was in.”

Applying the last of the glaze, Pepper slipped a plastic cap over Adelia’s hair. “I think a few minutes under the heater will process this glaze nicely and make it last longer. Then we’ll rinse it out and give you a trim.”

Adelia followed her into the corner where Pepper lowered the heater over her head and set the timer. She brought her a magazine and a bottle of water, then returned to tidy up her work space.

Sarah was just ringing up her client when she finished. She turned to Pepper and spoke softly so the dryer would disguise anything she said. “How’s that going?”

“Okay, I think. I’m curious as to why she’s really here, though.”

Sarah’s brow went up. “To get her hair done?”

Pepper shook her head. “I’m beginning to think that was just an excuse. She said her normal stylist had a medical emergency. Usually when that happens, someone else at the salon will pick up the appointment. I don’t know . . . it wouldn’t surprise me if she got my other appointment to cancel somehow, just so she could have the slot today.”

“What else could she possibly want?”

Pepper leaned in close to Sarah. “I think she’s trying to fix me up with Grant.”

At that, Sarah laughed and patted Pepper on the shoulder. “That means you’re in trouble. You might as well start shopping for a wedding dress.”

Pepper’s mouth dropped open in dismay. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because,” Sarah said with an ominous expression on her face. “Adelia Chamberlain always gets what she wants. And if she’s decided you and Grant would be perfect together, you will be.”

Chapter Five

After he finished his shift at the fire station, Grant swung by the dry cleaners to pick up his best black suit that he’d be needing for the bachelor auction Saturday night. He’d already made dinner reservations in Birmingham several weeks in advance and, purely being optimistic, a hotel reservation at the Wyndham.

As he walked in the door of the shop, he was greeted by the owner, Miss Winnie. Winifred Ingram had taken over the Laundromat and dry-cleaning store when her husband died the year before from stage four lung cancer. She had been a secretary at the middle school until his death, but seemed to be happy running the store now.

“Good evening, Grant,” she said with a smile. Winnie got up from her stool and reached for her television remote. “Sorry,” she admitted sheepishly. “We were so busy today with everyone getting ready for the auction and I’ve gotten behind on my soaps. Thank heavens for DVRs. I’ve got your suit ready.”

Grant waited at the counter while she disappeared into the back room. He glanced through the open archway into the side of the shop where the Laundromat was. Rows of gleaming white washers and dryers were lined up, with tables for folding and vending machines for soap and quarters. There were even a few old video games in the corner. He’d bought a washer and dryer when he moved into his loft, so he’d never had to use Miss Winnie’s place, but it looked like a pretty nice place to come if you had to.

“Here you go!” Winnie said cheerfully as she emerged from the back room. His black suit was draped in the plastic cover and she hung it on the tall hook beside the counter while she rung him up. “For the suit and that shirt, extra starch, that will be twenty even,” she said.

Grant pulled out his wallet and handed over some bills. “Thanks, Miss Winnie. Are you going to come bid on me tomorrow night?” he asked with his charming smile.

“Oh you,” she chastised, a blush rising to her plump cheeks. She smoothed a hand over her mostly graying hair and shook her head. “I’m sure you could show an old lady like me a hell of a time, but I went to school with your daddy and that just doesn’t seem right.”

“You’re not an old lady,” Grant insisted, picking his suit up off the hook.

“I’m old enough to be your mama and that’s what counts. And while you’re the spitting image of Norman at your age, if that’s what I wanted, I would’ve taken my chances back when I still knew what to do with him. Now I’m just a middle-aged woman who smells like fabric softener.”

“It’s an alluring fragrance that reminds me of freshly washed towels.”

“You know just what to say to a girl,” Winnie laughed. “You have fun at the auction. I’m sure the lucky lady will be very pleased with her investment.”

“Will do. Have a good evening,” he said as he headed out the door.

As he left, the opening door nearly collided with Logan Anthony. Grant apologized and stepped aside so he could go in the shop, trying to avoid any sort of real interaction with him. He knew Logan was back in town, but he hadn’t run into him yet. And he definitely hadn’t had to speak to him since the pepper spray incident.

Logan started into the shop, then pulled back and let the door swing closed. “Grant?”

With a resigned sigh, Grant turned around to face Pepper’s brother. Several years younger, he never had any real, direct interactions with Logan. He was a year older than Blake, but back in school there was no love lost between them. “Hey there, Logan,” he said, trying not to sound like he was dreading the conversation. “Welcome back to Rosewood.” He thought about shifting his suit in his arms to shake Logan’s hand, but Logan didn’t make any moves to do the same, so he let it go.

“Thanks. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” Since his past discussions with Blake always seemed to come to blows, Grant laid his suit across his left arm to leave his right free to defend or deliver a solid right hook.

Logan crossed his arms over his chest and looked around before his gaze settled on Grant. “I heard about what happened with Pepper.”

Grant straightened up in surprise, then immediately realized that her brother wasn’t talking about what happened at Halloween. If he did, they’d be fighting, not talking. “Are you referring to the pepper spray incident?”

Logan nodded. “Why were you following my sister home from the bar?”

Since the truth was that he was hoping to relive the past, he opted to answer his question with a question. “Is that what she told you I was doing?”

“No. She said you were returning her scarf.”

Grant nodded. “There you go.”

“You see, the problem I have with that story is that you had to be following her already to see her drop it unless she left it in the bar. Did she?”

“Nope.”

“You see where my concern comes in, then.” Logan looked him up and down, his sharp gaze assessing him the same way his father did. It pissed Grant off.

“I was concerned as well. That’s why I followed her. I thought if one of my sisters was walking home alone in the dark, just days after the peeper looked in her windows, I’d hope a good man would be willing to see her home safely. So that’s what I did.”

“What’s this about the peeper?” he asked, his brow drawing together in concern.

Apparently she hadn’t told her brother. She probably didn’t want her family hovering and he didn’t blame her. “About a week or so ago, not long after you moved back, I guess, she caught someone watching her through the kitchen window. She didn’t mention it to you?”

Logan’s jaw was so tight, his teeth were nearly grinding. “No, she didn’t.”

“She probably didn’t want you to worry. But you see, that’s why she was so jumpy that night. Why she pepper sprayed me. It wasn’t a big deal, just an accident.”

Her brother didn’t respond, he just glared at Grant thoughtfully.

“Well, it was good catching up, but I’d better get going.”

Logan nodded and reached for the door handle again. Grant was about to continue on down the sidewalk when he spoke again. “Grant?”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“The next time you think my sister’s well-being is in jeopardy, do me a favor and just call me instead. I’d really prefer that you just stay the hell away from my sister.”

Grant narrowed his gaze and squared off his shoulders. “I think I’ll let Pepper be the one to decide whether she wants me around.”

“I think shooting you in the eyes with pepper spray made that pretty clear. Leave my sister alone. I don’t want to have this discussion again.”

He wasn’t even going to acknowledge Logan’s decree. Pepper was a grown woman and did what she pleased. If he thought for a second that she’d pepper sprayed him on purpose, he’d certainly walk away. Instead, he threw up his hand in a dismissive wave. “It’s nice seeing you again, Logan,” he said before disappearing around the corner.

Grant forgave himself for white lies in the name of politeness.

Pepper hadn’t been there since it was completed, but the new high school gym looked great. As a thank-you to the committee that helped raise the money to rebuild it, the school had allowed them to hold the bachelor auction there. Meeting up with Ivy and Blake outside, the three went into the event together.

The committee had outdone themselves with the Valentine’s Day decorations. There was a big stage with a runway that extended into the audience. It was surrounded by round banquet tables draped in red and pink tablecloths. Each table had a centerpiece with pink, white, and red carnations in a fishbowl with red marbles in the bottom. Miss Francine had gotten her way. They didn’t get overpriced roses out of her for free.

The curtain beyond the stage had cardboard cutouts of classic Valentine’s shapes hung on it—cupids, hearts, and flying arrows of love.

Once they turned in their tickets, they were given programs and the ladies were handed numbered auction paddles shaped like hearts. “Oh,” Pepper said, trying to return the paddle, “I’m not bidding.”

Jeanette Kincaid just nodded and dismissed her. “That’s okay. You just keep it. We’re giving one to all the ladies. You never know when you might be . . . inspired.”

“I’m not—” Pepper began to complain, but Ivy tugged her aside.

“You don’t have to use it. Sit on it if it makes you feel better.”

Pepper frowned and followed Ivy and Blake inside. They selected a table close to the stage. “Why are we sitting right at the end of the runway? Are you hoping to bid on a handsome fella, Blake?”

He chuckled and pulled out a chair for Ivy to sit down. “Not exactly. I’m hoping just to harass my brothers when they come out. But, actually, Grant provided me with a short list of women he cannot be purchased by. If any of them have a winning bid, I’m to have Ivy bid and save him at any price.”

Pepper settled into her own seat with a laugh. “I didn’t realize Grant had standards.”

“Neither did I,” Blake said with a chuckle. “Would you ladies like a drink? The mayor went to a lot of trouble to get it cleared for Emmett to serve drinks at the event. I figure we should buy enough drinks to make it worth Emmett’s time. He did have to close Woody’s to do this.”

Normally at this sort of thing, alcohol, especially on school property, was a no-no. But when the commissioner was on the committee, strings got pulled. If they wanted the women in town loose enough to lay down serious money for the cause, alcohol was absolutely necessary. The menu was limited to wine, beer, and a special “love” martini.

“I’ll take a love martini,” Pepper said.

Ivy asked Blake for a white wine, then turned back to her. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get drunk and do something stupid?”

“It will have to be straight moonshine for me to bid on anyone.”

Ivy laughed and flipped open her program. “They’ve got quite a list of gentlemen here tonight. You know, I’m happy to loan you some money if you would like to bid.”

Pepper snorted indelicately. “Um, no thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I make it a rule never to borrow money from friends. And if I’m going to borrow money from you of all people, it’s going to be for something important, like a kidney transplant, not for a hot date on a made-up, overcommercialized holiday.”

“Suit yourself,” Ivy said, returning to her program. “I didn’t know your brother was going to be a part of the auction.”

Neither did Pepper. “Mayor Gallagher must’ve gotten to him. From what I heard, no single man is safe.”

“I guess so.” A few more pages in, Ivy’s eyes got big. “Bert Swenson!” she declared, pointing out the older gentleman’s photograph. “That’s interesting.”

“Hmmm . . .” Pepper said thoughtfully. “That’s why Miss Vera is here tonight, I bet. She was threatening to bid on someone a week or so ago. She got a little flustered when your mother recommended she start dating Bert.”

“Well, she’s got competition.” A crowd of older women brushed past their table and sat a few feet away. Ivy watched them sit down. “That crowd had two divorcées and three widows. I doubt any of them are bold enough to bid on Simon.”

“This might be more interesting than I thought. Every one of those women was in the salon this week. They’re on the hunt. I’m anticipating a silver cat fight.”

“A what?” Blake asked as he approached the table carefully, gripping three drinks in two hands. He placed them on the table and took his own seat.

Pepper eyed her pink drink with the heart-shaped strawberry slice floating on the surface. “We’re putting our money on a senior rumble over Bert Swenson.”

“I don’t know,” he said, glancing around. “This place is packed, and Fred from the diner is on the auction block, too. Never underestimate a man who can cook.”

“Yeah, even your grandmother is here,” Pepper noted.

Blake’s eyes widened and he spun in his chair. Adelia Chamberlain was sitting two tables away with the mayor, the county commissioner, Reverend Yates, and their respective spouses.

“Rumor has it they got some celebrity to host the auction tonight,” Ivy said.

“I’m sitting next to a rock star and an NFL quarterback. Who could trump that?” Pepper asked.

The lights in the gymnasium started to dim and the master of ceremonies for the night—WVTM Channel 13 weather girl Allison Price—stepped out onstage to the sound of applause.

“Really?” Pepper said dryly. “That’s the best they could do?”

Ivy snickered, but any response was muffled by Allison as she began to speak.

“Good evening, everyone, I’m Allison Price from WVTM Birmingham. I hope all the ladies here tonight have brought their checkbooks and are ready to support the Rosewood Tornado Fund by having a wonderful Valentine’s Day with one of the bachelors we’re offering tonight. In your booklets, you’ll see a photograph and description of each bachelor, including the date they’re offering. Bert Swenson is offering a candlelight dinner for two at Whittaker’s restaurant and an evening cruise on Willow Lake in his boat. And Simon Chamberlain is offering a whole weekend in Chattanooga, including a visit to the Tennessee Aquarium and an overnight stay on the Delta Queen river boat hotel. There’s something for everyone, ladies, so let’s see how much we can raise for this great cause!”

Pepper giggled and leaned into Ivy. “A weekend trip with Simon?”

“I doubt they’ll share a room,” Blake muttered.

“First up,” Allison announced, “Bert Swenson!”

Bert stepped out onto the stage wearing his best black suit and a crimson red tie. His thinning gray hair was slicked back and he’d trimmed his beard to a chic, less wooly length. The older man strutted down the runway as Allison described his major selling points and reminded the audience about his plans of an evening cruise.

Pepper noted a low murmur running through the crowd as Bert reached the end of the runway. Clutching a bouquet of red carnations in one hand, he flexed his biceps with the other.

“Take it off, Bert!” A loud catcall rang out from the back of the room, followed by a rumble of laughter. Apparently he was a favorite with the ladies tonight.

Bert didn’t disappoint, slipping out of his suit coat and slinging it over his shoulder with a seductive arch of his eyebrow. He was really playing this up.

“All right, ladies, let’s get the bidding started. I’ll take the first bid of one hundred dollars!”

Pepper watched a paddle shoot up to her right.

“Two hundred!” a woman shouted from the back.

“Five hundred.”

Pepper turned in time to see Miss Vera thrust her paddle into the air. “One thousand!” she shouted.

A murmur ran through the room, followed by several seconds of silence. Go Vera, Pepper thought.

“Two thousand!”

Every head in the room turned to see Estelle Townsend, the owner of the local bakery, with her paddle raised. She smiled and gave Vera a smug look.

“Three thousand,” Vera snapped without blinking.

“Four!”

The announcer was stunned by the pricey battle. Bert, too, seemed surprised, and a little pleased, to have women fighting over him.

“Five,” Vera said, her voice deadly cold.

At this point, the room had gone eerily silent. Everyone was waiting to see what Estelle would do. Five thousand dollars was crazy. Pepper couldn’t believe it could possibly go higher, but she imagined there was more going on than just a charity bachelor auction. Those two women were going after each other like old rivals and Bert was just the latest prize to fight over.

“Five thousand from the lady in the pink! Do I hear fifty-five hundred? Five thousand going once?”

“Seven. Thousand. Dollars,” Estelle shouted.

Like a tennis tournament, everyone turned back to Vera. She had visibly paled at Estelle’s bold bid. Swallowing hard, her lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. She shook her head, tucking her paddle away. “She can have him!”

Before anyone could change their mind, Allison wrapped up the bidding for Bert at an astounding seven thousand dollars. That certainly heaped an enormous amount of pressure on all the bachelors who came after him.

The rest of the auction wasn’t as exciting. Brian Green, Pepper’s date to the eighties prom last fall, went for eight hundred dollars to one of the elementary-school teachers. Mack, the divorced fire chief, went for twelve hundred to Cheryl Buckman, who ran the ice-cream parlor Scoops. Pepper’s brother, Logan, earned an even thousand from a teller at the bank. Lastly, Simon got a five-hundred-dollar pity bid from Lydia Whittaker and no one outbid her. Poor Simon, Pepper thought. He’d be spending Valentine’s Day with a harpy, but at least she’d be happy. She finally landed a Chamberlain.

After a while, Pepper started looking forward to the end of the night in the hopes that Vera might jump Estelle in the parking lot and she could catch it on her camera phone. That was way more interesting than any other love connections happening this evening.

“We’ve come to our last bachelor of the night,” Allison announced about an hour and a half later. “That’s right, ladies, it’s that bad boy with the big, shiny Harley, the one and only Grant Chamberlain.”

Grant stepped out from behind the curtain to a roar of applause. The minute the lights hit him, Pepper felt her heart skip a beat in her chest like she’d been hit with paddles of a defibrillator. He was wearing a black, slim-fit suit with a black shirt and tie. Even though he was indoors and it was nighttime, he was wearing his trademark Ray-Ban sunglasses. The glasses always seemed to accent the square line of his jaw and the sharp angle of his nose.

His full lips curled into his charming smile, with the slightest hint of a dimple visible on his cheek. It reminded her of him looking at her, just like that, from between her trembling thighs.

Damn him for being so sexy. His confidence made him that much more attractive. And frustrating. And irritating. Her fingers itched to reach for her paddle, but she resisted. She wasn’t going to pay for his time, even when he smiled at her that way.

“The lucky lady with the winning bid will go with Grant to a romantic dinner at Brio’s in Birmingham and if she likes, he’ll take her on an exhilarating ride down a windy country road on the back of his motorcycle.”

Pepper could almost see all the wild fantasies rushing through the heads of every woman in the room. It was a nice thought—hair blowing in the wind, thighs clamped around Grant’s narrow hips, arms wrapped around his waist. Even she could imagine the hard feel of his abs beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt and the vibration of the engine against her most sensitive parts. There was a rumble of approval as they readied their paddles and sized up their competition.

Good luck to them, Pepper thought.

“This sexy Chamberlain is a chip off the ol’ block. Let’s cut to the chase and start the bidding at a thousand. I can tell from here that this young stud is worth every penny.”

At her bold assessment, Grant turned to look at the MC with wide-eyed surprise, but he didn’t get long to react. The bidding had begun.

Like a beach ball bouncing around the room, the bids flew fast and furious. Unlike Bert, who had two determined bidders, there were fifteen or so women bidding in smaller increments. It still shot up to quite the amount, though. Before long, they’d topped three thousand.

Suddenly Pepper felt awkward. Even though she and Grant weren’t dating, she didn’t exactly want to sit around and watch other women battle for him. Looking around the room, she spied Adelia Chamberlain coming back to her table with a glass of ice water. Maybe another drink would help. Or perhaps it was the right time for a restroom break. She could beat all the other women who would rush the ladies’ room when the auction ended.

Pepper slipped her purse onto her shoulder and picked up her paddle so she could dump it in the bathroom trash can. “I’m going to get some air,” she whispered to Ivy, then started to get up.

The ambush was sudden and unexpected. When they first came in, Pepper had noticed the cable that the A/V people had taped to the floor, but the room was much darker now. Adelia didn’t see it and caught the toe of her shoe on it. She didn’t fall, thank goodness, but she did stumble, slinging her full glass of ice water into Pepper’s lap.

With a cry of surprise and alarm, Pepper leapt out of her chair, holding her arms high to avoid the water that practically covered her from neck to knees.

“Four thousand!” Allison Price announced from the stage.

The MC’s words were an even larger shock to Pepper than the water. She turned her head toward Grant and the action onstage. He was looking straight at her with a wide smile of confidence across his face. He winked at her, and Pepper felt her stomach sink into her boot. Allison was pointing in Pepper’s direction, trying to coax a higher bid out of the audience.

Yes, please, she screamed in her head. Make it forty-five hundred. Hell, make it four thousand and one penny. Just outbid her. She was answered with deafening silence. The only one in the room making a sound was Allison up onstage. It seemed that suddenly, all the battling women had given up. Even Grant wasn’t worth that much, and she agreed.

“No!” Pepper shouted, but there was no stopping it.

“Going once . . . going twice . . .”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Sold! To the lady in the blue sweater, paddle twenty-two!”

Pepper looked down at her dark blue sweater, suddenly made even darker by the spreading water mark. Her damned paddle, the one she never wanted to begin with, was still in her hand. She watched as it slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground in slow motion as the gravity of the situation caught up with her. Four thousand dollars. She’d just bid four thousand dollars. Because of well-aimed ice water.

“Oh, Pepper,” Miss Adelia fussed, dabbing her with an inadequate cocktail napkin and shaking off the well-meaning hands of the folks who were more concerned about the older woman nearly falling. “I am so sorry. I didn’t even see that silly cord,” she said. “Is your dress okay?”

She couldn’t respond. Not to the people patting her shoulder, not to Adelia, not even to Ivy. All Pepper could do was close her eyes and try to keep the tears of frustration and aggravation from rushing down her cheeks.

How long had she saved to work on her house? Her vacation started today and the work was supposed to begin in earnest tomorrow. She’d have to call and cancel the electrician. With only a thousand dollars, she’d be hard-pressed to get any serious work done. Maybe some Sheetrock work. Maybe all she could do was get the bedroom floor reinforced. She could buy some paint and some caulk. But she was as far from her goal as she was when she bought the run-down old house.

She was never going to get out of her livbedoset.

“Winning bidders, please report backstage to meet with your bachelors and pay the cashier. Thanks to everyone who joined us tonight for a great cause.”

People started getting up and exiting the gymnasium, but Pepper couldn’t move her feet. All she could do was stand there, freezing cold, and watch everything she had planned slip through her fingers.

“Pepper, are you okay? We’ll figure something out, all right? Like I said, I’ll loan you the money. No problem.”

She could hear Ivy’s voice, but she knew if she opened her mouth to answer, she’d cry in front of half the town. She couldn’t do it. Wouldn’t. Just like she wouldn’t borrow money from Ivy. It would hurt her pride way too much.

Instead, she shook her head, bringing one trembling hand up to cover her mouth. She took a deep breath, hoping the calming powers would make her feel better about what just happened, but it was pointless.

She had just paid four thousand dollars for a date with Grant Chamberlain.

Chapter Six

When the auction ended, Grant returned to the backstage area they had set up for bachelors and their winners. The other men were gathered around the ten or so high-top cocktail tables that were draped with red tablecloths and had small centerpieces of flowers and candles in the center.

“Four thousand!” Simon shouted, and most of the other men applauded. Logan was the exception, glaring at him from the back of the room as though Grant had any control about whether his sister bid on him.

“I didn’t beat Bert, though,” Grant replied as he slapped the older man on the back. “You’re an old dog, Bert.”

Bert smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Who knew?”

“Well, you did better than me. There was a second there when I thought no one would bid at all,” Simon complained.

“That’s just because you’re young, Simon,” Bert said. “The ladies in town feel dirty bidding on a youngster such as yourself. They’re friends with your mama.”

“Who ended up winning you, Simon?” Mack asked.

“Lydia,” he groaned. “My brother Blake’s stalker paid five hundred bucks for me. I feel like a consolation prize.”

A couple of the men laughed, and eventually Simon cracked a smile, too. “Now I have to spend a whole weekend in Chattanooga with her! She’s awful.”

“At least she’s pretty,” Grant said, trying to make him feel better. “She’ll look good on your arm, and maybe the other girls in town will pay you more notice if they think a woman like Lydia was into you.”

Gloria Everett, the Rosewood principal and member of the Tornado Fund committee, rushed backstage, clipboard and cashbox in hand. “Gentleman, your attention! Your lucky ladies will be coming back here momentarily. This is your chance to chat with them, charm them, and make them glad they’re paying all that money for you. We have a rose for each of you to give your winner. Please pick one up from the container over here.”

Grant walked over and examined the roses. They were in an assortment of colors. Red was the obvious choice, so he plucked a peach-colored rose with hot pink tips. The peach color reminded him of her skin and the pink color, of her lips and the flush on her cheeks. He wished he could drag the rose’s silky petals slowly across her bare skin. Perhaps he’d get the chance, considering how much she’d paid for him.

He’d been surprised, really. Stunned. Considering she’d pepper sprayed him a week ago, he was beginning to wonder if maybe he’d been wrong about her. He knew she wanted him, he could see it in her reactions to him. She always flushed when he came near, her breath coming rapid and shallow, her pupils dilated just enough to make her look wide-eyed and innocent. The night they spent together, she responded to him easily, every touch met with a gasp of pleasure. But Pepper was fighting with herself. He’d been confident that eventually he could address any reservations she had.

Now, maybe that wasn’t necessary. It was hard for him to see the crowd from the stage with all the lights in his eyes, but he saw Pepper leap out of her chair and raise her paddle high in the air. It was an enthusiastic movement, not the timid bid of a woman who wasn’t sure this was what she wanted.

Thank goodness. If any woman could bid on him tonight and win, he’d wanted it to be Pepper, but he knew she didn’t have a lot of money to waste on that sort of thing. Maybe she’d decided to support the good cause. He hated the idea of spending Valentine’s Day alone, and maybe she did as well.

“Now, if they ask,” Gloria continued, “we take cash, checks, and credit cards for their payments, but they do have to pay tonight.”

Just then, the curtains parted and twelve women made their way backstage. Grant broke into his brightest, most charming smile and clutched the rose to present to Pepper.

All the other women flowed past him, greeting their bachelors with hugs and muted laughter. Then there was Pepper. She was the last of the women, and nowhere near the most enthusiastic. Her face was far from the peachy tone that inspired the rose; it was red, blotchy, and tear-streaked. There was also a large dark stain down the front of her sweater.

Grant frowned. This was not the reception he was expecting at all.

Pepper stopped at the table where he was standing and dropped her purse unceremoniously onto it. Without so much as greeting him, she started digging around inside her bag, finally pulling out her checkbook. He watched her hand tremble as she attempted to make out the large check, a tear falling onto the paper and smearing the date at the top.

That’s when it hit him. She didn’t want him. For some reason, she’d paid all that money for him, but she still didn’t want him. That didn’t make any sense.

“Pepper?” he said as she ripped the check from her checkbook.

She looked up at him for the first time. Her pink lips were pressed into a hard line and her jaw was tight like she was trying to keep something in.

“Thank you for bidding on me,” he said with a smile. “If I could’ve chosen any woman in Rosewood to spend Valentine’s Day with, it would be you.”

Pepper just glared at him and swallowed hard. Grant held out the rose to her and she accepted it reluctantly. She brought the rose to her nose and sniffed delicately. Instead of smiling, he could see the tears start welling in her eyes again.

“Have you ever been to Brio’s?” he asked, trying to shift the subject to something more pleasant.

“No.”

“It’s really nice. The food is amazing. I made reservations over a month ago because it’s so hard to get in there on Valentine’s Day.”

“Grant . . .” she started, then her voice faded out. “Valentine’s Day isn’t really my thing.”

That was a first. Grant had dated a lot of women in his time, and even if they claimed that Valentine’s Day wasn’t a big deal for them, it was usually a lie. He always took the holiday very seriously and it hadn’t steered him wrong yet.

“Well, we could do something different if you like. I am at your mercy. Whatever you want, I can make it happen.”

She looked up at him, her dark eyes dry, but still red. “Whatever I want, huh? You don’t happen to be a Sheetrock guy in your spare time, do you?”

Grant’s brow furrowed. “Sheetrock? Uh, no, I’m not. Why do you—”

Pepper turned on her heel and walked away before he could finish. She handed over her check to Gloria, got her receipt, and marched out of the room without another word to him or anyone else.

That’s when he realized what was going on. She’d told him last week that she was saving up to work on her house. For some reason, she’d just bid the majority of it on him and she wasn’t happy about it. That didn’t make any sense at all.

“Did you hear Grandma Dee tripped and dumped a whole glass of ice water in Pepper’s lap tonight?” Simon asked.

Grant closed his eyes, the final piece falling into place. The tears, the wet sweater, the Sheetrock . . . she hadn’t meant to bid on him. She’d had no intention, whatsoever, of laying out a penny for Grant, much less four hundred thousand of them.

This was his grandmother’s doing. Sure, she’d tripped, but he could feel in his bones that she was meddling. Grant would gladly accept any help to melt Pepper’s icy reception of him, but this wasn’t the right choice. Her house was so important to her. She needed that money to fix it up.

Without answering Simon, Grant whipped open the curtain and found his grandmother talking with a few people in the gymnasium. “Grandma Dee, may I have a moment, please?”

She appraised him with an arched brow, then politely dismissed herself from the conversation. “Yes, Grant?”

“Did you do that to Pepper on purpose?”

“Do what to Pepper on purpose?” she asked.

“Did you dump water in her lap so she would bid on me tonight?”

Adelia sighed and considered her answer. She knew how big Grant was on being honest, so lying was pointless. Finally, she gave him a curt nod. “Yes, I did. She wasn’t going to bid on you otherwise.”

There wasn’t an ounce of shame on the older woman’s face. In her mind, she’d simply done what needed to be done.

“Grandma Dee, she couldn’t afford that. Four thousand dollars? That’s nearly everything she had saved to work on her house.”

She watched him for a moment and then sighed. “That’s unfortunate. If only there were a strong, handy man in her life who could help her work on the house . . .”

Okay, Grant thought. Now he understood what was going on here. She was a tricky thing. Tricky, tricky, tricky. But it wouldn’t work out the way she envisioned it. His grandmother didn’t know Pepper and how stubborn she could be. “Even if I did—”

“You want her, this is your chance,” she said, cutting him off. “If Pepper wants to fix up her house, then you help her make it happen. Spend time with her doing something important to her, as opposed to you just throwing cheesy pickup lines at her. You’re a great young man, Grant, and I’m not just saying that because you’re my grandson. You have a lot of qualities that are charming, but most of that goes to the wayside when you’re acting like the town’s sexy bad boy. You’re big on honesty, so be genuine with her and I guarantee you’ll make progress.”

Be genuine? That was something Grant wasn’t entirely sure how to do. He was honest, always, but when he hit puberty and realized he had a gift for charming women, his honest words always had an underlying agenda: a means to seduction. He learned early on that he had to stand out from his brothers. He wasn’t a great athlete like Blake, or a brilliant student like Mitchell. But women wanted the alluring bad boy who would say all the right things, touch them the right way, and then roar off into the distance on his Harley. He could be that, and built his reputation on it.

But if he cast off the motorcycle, lost the sunglasses and the bad-boy machismo, what was left? He didn’t know. And he doubted Pepper would like whatever was left over.

“I mean it,” his grandmother warned as she placed a hand on his cheek. “Just be yourself and it will work out. I’m giving you a gift, Grant. Make the most of it.”

He wasn’t sure if being himself would be enough to crack her hard exterior. “She’s furious. I doubt she’ll want anything to do with me.”

“In her situation, your offer of help is one she can’t refuse. She bought you, whether she wanted to or not. Let her use you for manual labor and get every penny back. It’s the least you can do after your poor, clumsy grandmother got her into this pickle.”

Adelia patted him on the shoulder and turned to walk out of the gymnasium.

She was right. This was his chance to break through her defenses. He wanted Pepper. He had no clue why, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He needed to make the most of this opportunity.

He’d start first thing in the morning.

Sunday morning, Pepper opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of her living room. For a minute, she reveled in the joy of a lazy Sunday morning, knowing she had an entire week of vacation ahead of her.

And then she remembered.

Rolling over, she smothered her face in her pillow and screamed as loudly as she had wanted to last night at the auction but couldn’t.

With that out of her system, she threw back the blankets and got out of bed. Screaming was nice and all, but it didn’t change anything. She needed to brew a pot of coffee, get out her notebook of chores, and see what she could still get done with a week and a thousand dollars. Even after two cups of coffee and some creative accounting, it wasn’t much. If she opted to use the money to reinforce the floor in the one bedroom, she could fake the window by caulking the shit out of it. That wasn’t the bedroom she wanted for her room, but the electrical problems in the other room would just be too pricey with her current budget.

She could recover from this, it would just take time. If she could get one bedroom done, at the very least, she could get her bed out of the living room. Then she could save up to do the rest. She was picking up more of her own clients and was hired to do the hair and makeup for a wedding in a few weeks. That was good money. And maybe if Adelia started having her hair done at the salon more often, she’d draw in more clientele with high-end hair needs. That meant higher commissions and, hopefully, higher tips.

All was not lost. It just felt that way in the moment.

Then the doorbell rang. At first, Pepper reached for her phone, thinking she had a text, then realized it was her doorbell. No one had ever rung her doorbell before, so she hadn’t been entirely sure it worked. One less thing to fix, she supposed.

Getting up, Pepper peered out the peephole to see who was outside. It was Grant, looking quite spiffy for this early hour on a Sunday morning in a pair of khakis and a blue polo shirt. She doubted he’d come from church. He had something in his hands, but she couldn’t tell what it was through the tiny spyglass. It didn’t matter.

“Go away!” she shouted. She wasn’t letting him into her house. For one thing, it was a mess and would be for longer than she’d hoped. For another, she was wearing flannel pajama pants and a thin, cotton tank top with no bra. Her hair was up in a messy bun. She hadn’t even brushed her teeth yet. Never mind the fact that she was mad at him, although he’d done nothing wrong.

“Let me in, Pepper,” he said. “We need to talk.”

“No we don’t. Time is money. I may be broke, but I’ve got time and I’m not wasting it on you.”

“You’re going to, because I’m not leaving until you let me in.”

Pepper would see about that. She backed away from the door to let him wait it out. But just in case she was wrong, she darted into the bathroom to brush her teeth and slip on her robe. She wasn’t about to give him a nipple show.

Five minutes later, she returned to the door and he was still standing there. With a sigh, she opened the door and looked at him with an expression of exasperation. “What do you want, Grant?”

“I want to talk to you about last night.”

“Unless you’ve got a check for four grand to buy yourself out of my debt, I’m not interested.”

“I’ve got something better. This is for you.” He held out the bundle in his hands, and she finally got a good look at what he was holding.

It looked like a bouquet of some kind, but instead of flowers wrapped in paper, it was tools and paintbrushes wrapped in a drop cloth and tied with a heavy-duty extension cord. She spied caulk, a drywall saw, duct tape, a wrench, a level, a box cutter, a measuring tape, and even a tiny bottle of vodka. It was a sweet thing to do. She needed the majority of the things in his hands, but she couldn’t accept it.

“Grant—” she began, but he interrupted.

“No, listen to me. You’ve paid your money and there’s nothing we can do about that now. So, like it or not, I’m your date. Last night, I got to thinking about how you weren’t really into Valentine’s Day, so I’m coming to you with a counteroffer. Instead of flowers and dinner in Birmingham, how about you get me for a week of free labor to help you around the house?”

Pepper was missing something. He was offering himself up for the whole week? That was an awful lot in exchange for what should’ve been just one night. “Free labor?”

“Yes. I’m no electrician, but I’m pretty handy. I can help with a lot of things, and for the things I can’t do, I know someone who can do it and give you a good deal on it. That’s got to be better than roses, right?”

It was definitely better than roses, but there had to be a catch. “Don’t you have fires to put out?”

“It just so happens that I’m going into a long stretch off. I don’t go back to work again until the sixteenth, so I’ve got nothing to do this week but help you here.”

Pepper didn’t know what to say. “What’s the catch, Grant? There has to be a catch.”

“There’s no catch, Pep. Well, that’s not true. There’s one catch—you have to let me into your house.”

Pepper frowned at him. He was right, of course, whoever worked on her house would have to come in. That was just a sacrifice she’d have to make for the house to ever get better.

“You could start by inviting me in now,” Grant said with a hopeful smile. “I’ve already seen part of it.”

“Through teary, swollen eyes.”

Grant frowned at her. “Come on, Pepper. Let me help you.”

She needed his help and damn it if it didn’t grate at her soul. “Okay, fine,” she said. She took a large step back, opening the door so he could come inside. After she closed the door, he handed her the “bouquet.”

“This has a little bit of everything a homeowner needs, I think.”

“The vodka is a nice touch,” she said with a wry smile.

“I thought so.”

Pepper carried the bundle into the kitchen, where she set it on her small table in the breakfast nook. “Would you like some coffee?”

“I’d love some.”

She busied herself pouring him a cup. After she handed it over, she told him to have a seat. “I’m going to put on some clothes and I’ll be right out.”

She waited for him to make some smart comment along the lines of “don’t bother” or “need some help taking those off?” but he just nodded and sipped his coffee. Interesting.

Pepper grabbed some clothes out of her armoire and disappeared into the bathroom. Ten minutes later, she emerged looking much more presentable. She picked up her own cooling mug of coffee, reheated it with a splash of fresh coffee, and sat down at the table with Grant.

“So you’re serious about this?” she asked. She wasn’t about to get her hopes up for nothing.

He nodded. “I am. After you left last night, I found out what happened with my grandmother. I have to admit I thought it was odd you’d bid that much on me considering how much you’ve protested, but I was flattered.”

Pepper eyed him over her mug. “Has your ego recovered from the hard blow of the truth?”

He shrugged and smiled. “The truth is a complicated thing. Deep down, I think that you’re interested in a relationship with me, but you hold back for your own reasons. Even with the temptation, four thousand dollars is a lot of money. I wouldn’t even pay four grand for me.”

“Well, I wonder about the woman who bid right before me. She really wanted you.”

Grant looked at her and grinned. “You didn’t see who it was?”

“No. I was getting ready to leave, which is why I had my paddle in my hand.”

“It was Dorothy Baker.”

Pepper’s eyes grew wide. “Miss Dotty?”

He nodded. “To be honest, I was a little scared by the prospect. All things considered, I’m glad you got water dumped on you, at least selfishly.”

“I thought Blake had a list of people to save you from if they bid?”

“He did. It never occurred to me that someone like Dotty would bid, though, so she wasn’t on the list.”

Just the thought of Miss Dotty out on a date with Grant was enough to build a bubble of laughter in her throat. Then Grant said, “She patted my rear end last year at the Fourth of July picnic,” and Pepper lost it. She had to set her mug of coffee down, she was laughing so hard.

Before too long, Grant joined her. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes, her newly applied mascara well on its way to running down her cheeks. But it helped. Screaming and worrying hadn’t done a damn thing, but a little hope and a dose of laughter, courtesy of Grant, had done the trick. She felt a lot better about the world in general.

“My original point,” Grant said after they had both calmed down, “was that I know how important working on your house is to you. Coming here and helping you out is the least I can do. I mean it. I’m not trying to just butter you up or get you into bed. Although . . .” he said with a grin, “if it happens, it happens. But that’s not why I’m coming to your house every day.”

Pepper never expected to wake up to an offer like this, but she was very grateful for it. Labor was expensive. If he could make the most of the materials she could buy, maybe the auction wouldn’t be as big a tragedy as she thought it was. “Okay,” she said at last. “Thank you. You’re right, this is way better than flowers and dinner.”

Grant smiled wide and finished off his coffee. “So why don’t you show me what I’m in for. I want you to show me everything so we know the most important things to work on. Don’t hide something because you’re embarrassed. I know how you are about people seeing this place.”

“Okay.” Pepper set down her cup and picked up her to-do list. She covered a couple of minor upgrades she wanted to look into in the kitchen, then led him into the back of the house, where no one, not even Pepper, tended to go.

Grant listened attentively, tugging lightly at drooping wallpaper and testing squeaky floors with his heavy boot. They looked over the windows and drywall, then he took a flashlight and bravely crawled under her house to examine the home’s structure and plumbing from the crawl space.

When he crawled out, he dusted his hands off on his khakis and nodded. “I can see where the problem is and I think I can fix that myself. We just need to reinforce the floor joists in that bedroom with some two-by-fours.”

“Really?” Pepper said, feeling hopeful. She’d worried that was going to be an expensive undertaking.

“Yep. I think we can put a pretty serious dent in your to-do list.”

“Great. What do we start with?”

“We start with another cup of coffee and one of those blueberry muffins I saw on the counter in the kitchen. While we eat that, we’ll make a list of everything we need to buy at the hardware store tomorrow and plan out our strategy of attack.”

Chapter Seven

Adelia Chamberlain was a bloody genius.

Well, her plan did have some flaws—like Grant spending hours freezing beneath Pepper’s house with God knows what creatures while he reinforced the bedroom floor and checked for other weak areas—but for the most part, it was working. With every item they ticked off Pepper’s to-do list, he could feel her resistance fading. After they spent a couple hundred dollars at the hardware store and hauled it all inside, she smiled at him. When he fixed the floor of the bedroom, she hugged him. After they painted that bedroom and hung her new ceiling fan, he got a kiss on the cheek and takeout.

This was a reward system he could get behind.

Grant wasn’t sure what part of his new seduction plan was the magic ingredient. Maybe it was because he’d dropped the suave seduction shtick and was trying to be as genuine as he could stand to be. Or it might be because he was doing something nice for her without expecting something in return. She didn’t need to know it was motivated in part by guilt and in part by those plump, pink lips of hers.

But maybe . . . just maybe . . . it was because he had spent a good part of the last few days hot, sweaty, and half-naked.

They were three hours into the second day when he lost his shirt. After he’d reinforced the subfloor, he’d started sanding the wood floors in both bedrooms and the hallway. Even with the big floor sander, it was hot, dusty work, and by the time he’d finished sweeping up, his shirt was plastered to his chest.

He’d whipped it over his head and kept going. That’s when he noticed Pepper watching him. She was sweeping, or she was supposed to be, but out of the corner of his eye, he could tell she was more focused on admiring him. It was only right that he give her something to truly admire. Casually, he yawned and stretched, flexing every hard muscle he had. The motion narrowed his waist, making his jeans slip lower onto his hips and reveal the tantalizing cut of his muscles down into his groin that the women always seemed to go crazy over.

Pepper was stone-still in the hallway, so he decided to push her one step further. Reaching down for the damp rag he’d been using to wipe his face, he poured a little water from his water bottle onto it. Lifting it over his head, he tipped his face up and twisted the towel. The cool shower of water dripped down onto his face and shoulders, dampening his hair and rushing down the channels of his muscles, leaving his chest and abs glistening and damp. It felt wonderful, but the soft gasp in the hallway was his true reward.

When he opened his eyes, Pepper was gone, but he knew it wasn’t an opportunity lost.

It was apparently the first volley in a silent war of seduction. When the floors were clean, he cut in the edges and corners with the polyurethane, then used the roller to put out the first layer. He painted his way out of both bedrooms and down the hall into the living room. There, he found Pepper painting the dining room. The first day, she’d moved all the boxes out of the dining room and into the breakfast nook, and then she had wrestled with removing the ugly wallpaper that had been on the walls since before they were born. Now, she’d finally gotten to painting. She was on a stepladder, applying a second coat of a deep burgundy paint to the walls.

At least, that’s what he thought she was doing. It was hard to be certain with his eyes glued to the short shorts she’d changed into. They were a pair of old denim cutoffs that made her legs look six feet long and displayed just the slightest hint of ass-cheek as she reached with the paint roller. Her hair was up in a messy bun and her gray tank top was yanked up and tied into a Hooters-like knot. Her abdomen and back were virtually bare, and he found himself licking his lips as he watched a bead of sweat travel down her spine.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

Grant ripped his gaze away from the wayward bead of perspiration and looked up at her face. It was a beautiful, smug face, with lips twisted into a grin of satisfaction. Just as he’d strutted around when he knew she was watching, she’d worn this outfit on purpose. And he wanted to say thank you. Properly. With his tongue.

He approached her, looking around at the work she’d done so far. “No. I’ve finished the first coat of poly on the floors. I have to let them dry a couple of hours before we do another coat. I came out to see if you needed any help.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, as though she didn’t believe a word he said. “Well, I’m almost done with the second coat in here. Remind me why I chose red? It’s going to need a third coat, if not a fourth. One-coat coverage, my ass.”

“What do you say I conjure up some lunch while you finish and it will be all ready when you get done?”

“That sounds fair. Are you cooking or running out? Wait, that’s probably a silly question.”

At that, Grant laughed. “Well, I wasn’t planning on cooking, but your lack of faith in me is inspiring. I think I’ll go look in the kitchen and see what I can find. Anything off-limits?”

“Nope.” Pepper dipped her roller in paint again. “Knock yourself out.”

Grant hated to leave the stunning view of Pepper’s ass behind him, but she’d challenged him to cook lunch and he was going to succeed.

“In the pantry, there’s—” Pepper started, gesturing with her roller, but the movement threw off her balance. “Ahh!” she cried as she clutched at the stepladder, but it rocked violently beneath her.

Grant lunged out and reached for her. The ladder, the paint tray, and the roller fell to the floor with a crash, but Pepper landed safely in Grant’s arms. The sudden, awkward movement kept her from falling, but the force required to stop her sent Pepper colliding into his chest. They stumbled, then fell backward into the kitchen, with Grant landing on the linoleum floor, Pepper on top of him.

Pepper planted her hands on the floor to push herself up and looked down at him with wide eyes. “That was close. Thank you.”

Grant nodded, but he didn’t let go. Right now, every inch of the body he’d just been admiring was pressed into his own. Each movement was delicious agony. “My pleasure,” he said, and he meant it.

His words invoked an awareness in Pepper’s eyes as well. She shifted her hips just slightly against the firm length of his desire, and Grant had to bite his lip to keep from groaning aloud.

A ragged breath passed through her parted lips as she watched his reaction. She lifted a hand to his face and brushed her thumb across his cheek. “I got some paint on your cheek,” she said. “For a moment, I thought you were bleeding.”

Grant smiled. “I wouldn’t be the first southern boy to bleed crimson. Most Alabama fans do.” In fact, he’d seen more than a few T-shirts to that effect. Personally, he was one of the few people he knew without a preference. Grant just enjoyed watching a good game, no matter who won.

But at the moment, football was the furthest thought from his mind. Right now, Pepper’s dark eyes were watching him with a heat strong enough to make his blood start to boil in his veins. Whatever reservations she had about the two of them wasn’t relevant at the moment.

Grant slid his hands down her bare sides to cup the swell of her hips. Her skin was like silk against his rough hands.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” she said.

“Neither am I. Not for food, at least.” He swallowed hard and used his hands to press Pepper’s hips into him. She closed her eyes and moved with him, grinding the seam of her cutoffs against him. “Pepper,” he groaned.

His words were silenced with her mouth. Her lips met his with a ferocity unmatched. This was no easy kiss. No hesitant kiss. It was as though the last few months had never happened and they were right back in his apartment.

She was set on devouring him, and he would gladly be destroyed. Her hands grasped each side of his face, holding him still. His fingertips pressed into the juicy curves of her ass as Pepper’s tongue slipped into his mouth.

She tasted like spicy cinnamon gum, leaving a fresh flavor behind that made his tongue burn when he touched her. That was appropriate. Every other part of him burned when he touched her. The cold tile of the floor at his back did little to soothe the fire racing through his veins. The more he touched her, the more desperate he was to keep touching her. But this wasn’t enough. He wanted her bare skin pressed against his own.

Grant sought out the knot of her tank top, loosening it and tugging the shirt over her head. Beneath it was only pale flesh with no bra in sight, making his eyes nearly roll back into his head. His hands quickly covered each bare breast, feeling the hard press of her nipples against his palms.

He pulled away from her mouth to taste her skin. The tip of his tongue teased at one pink nipple, then the other, before sucking one into his mouth and drawing hard at her breast. Pepper cried out, the sound echoing in the tiled kitchen and sending a shiver down his spine. Her hips bucked in response, grinding their sensitive parts together through the thick denim that separated them.

They needed to get rid of these clothes. He unbuttoned the fly of her shorts and slipped them and her tiny panties down over her hips. Pepper gingerly slipped out one leg, then the other, kicking the clothing out of her way. Grant took the opportunity to reach into his back pocket and slip out his billfold, plucking the condom he kept in there.

Naked, Pepper straddled him and took the condom from his hand. Her eyes never left his as she undid his jeans and pushed them down and out of her way. At an agonizingly slow pace, she rolled the latex down the thick length of him, drawing a low growl out of Grant’s throat. Before he could catch his breath, Pepper lowered herself onto him.

He sank into her warm heat, his jaw tight to hold in the sounds he was desperate to make. Pepper felt amazing. He hadn’t imagined it. For a while, he’d started to wonder if time and fantasy had colored his previous encounter with her, but he hadn’t embellished this feeling at all. And when she started moving, he nearly lost it like a seventeen-year-old boy.

Grant reached out to cradle her breasts in his hands and slow her movement. It helped, but not much. Judging by Pepper’s frantic motion over him and her escalating cries, they were on the same page. After all these months of anticipation, neither one of them seemed to want to draw it out. After all, they were having sex on the kitchen floor. That wasn’t exactly ground zero for a slow, sensual lovemaking session.

They had time for slow and leisurely later, he reasoned, and closed his eyes. Blocking out everything but how good she felt, how erotic the sound of her cries were, Grant felt himself start to unravel. As Pepper’s pulsating release rocked her and made her shout out his name, her body tightened around him and he was lost.

He hadn’t been sure he’d ever get back to this moment with Pepper again, but he was certainly glad he had. And hopefully, he’d get back there over and over. They were only two days into their home remodeling project, after all . . .

Pepper rolled onto her back, the tile cold against her skin. With the chill of the floor came a rush of reality she wasn’t quite ready for. Had she really just had sex with Grant on her kitchen floor? Really good sex? Again?

The first time they’d been together, Pepper had slipped from his bed at sunrise. She had a lot of reasons for leaving early. First, she hadn’t wanted to face his smug face. He’d finally achieved the goal she’d told him he’d never reach. She wasn’t in the mood for any “I told you so” gloating.

Second, she hadn’t wanted anyone to see her leave his place. It was bad enough that Grant knew she had given in. She didn’t want anyone else to know, especially her own family.

Lastly, she didn’t want Grant to think she was going to get attached. It had been a onetime hookup and nothing more. If rumors were to be believed, he was normally up and out of a woman’s place by sunrise. Since they’d gone to Grant’s loft instead of her house, he couldn’t leave, so she opted to do it instead.

That was where it should’ve ended. Where it was meant to end, she was certain. And yet here she was. Her body was still aching and pulsating from her release. She was sweaty, her muscles trembling from exhaustion. And this time, she couldn’t leave. Would he be the one to pack up and go? It was kind of hard to make a quick exit when he was supposed to be rolling out another coat of poly on the floors today.

She was at a loss. She didn’t know what to say to him. She really didn’t even know what to think about what just happened. She wasn’t sure if she regretted it or not. She should. There were so many reasons why it was a bad idea, but a part of her didn’t care. The last few days with Grant had been nice. He’d been different. She felt like she was actually getting to know the real Grant. At the same time, she wondered if all the other women thought the same way before they fell for the slippery bachelor.

Either way, it was best to do some damage control.

“Well,” she said with a contented sigh, “I’m glad we got that out of our system. Now we can go back to focusing on the house.” Pepper sat up and started pulling on her clothes.

“Out of our system?” Grant said, his voice rough. “Not even close.” His hand reached out to stroke her bare thigh. Pepper had to squeeze her eyes shut to keep from crawling on top of him again.

“Yes, well, we do seem to be prone to these sudden moments of weakness. But that doesn’t mean we’re just throwing caution to the wind.”

“Pepper, what do you—?”

The chime sounded from the front door, interrupting the question she didn’t want to answer anyway.

“Crap.” Who the hell was at her house? She never had any visitors and now it seemed like she couldn’t stop her doorbell from ringing. She scrambled to her feet and quickly started tugging her clothing back on.

“What’s the big deal?” Grant said, lying back with his arms folding behind his head. He was gloriously naked on her kitchen floor like he belonged there. “Just don’t answer. They’ll go away.”

“I can’t not answer,” Pepper said. “No one ever comes to my house, it has to be important.”

“Or it could be someone trying to sell a subscription to the Rosewood Times. Or some kids selling candy bars or magazines. Oh, wait. It’s Girl Scout cookie time, isn’t it? Open the door.”

“I doubt you’re getting any cookies out of this, but either way, get up and get dressed.”

Reluctantly, Grant sat up and started pulling his clothing on as well. “Fair enough. But don’t think I’m finished with you yet.”

Pepper tugged on her shorts and gave him a suspicious look. “I think that’s still up for debate.”

Pepper pulled her wild hair back into a knot and approached the front door. Looking out the peephole, she found her brother, Logan, standing on her front porch.

“Crap,” she muttered again, looking over her shoulder at Grant. “Get dressed, it’s my brother,” she hissed. She ran into the dining room and grabbed her paint tray and brush from where they’d fallen on the drop cloth so she would look busy. “One second!” she shouted through the door.

She finally opened the door, cracking it open just enough for her body to barricade the doorway. “Logan!” she said, trying to gather up some faux enthusiasm. “What are you doing here?”

Logan furrowed his brow and looked down at her. “Mom mentioned you’d taken off time this week to work, so I thought I might stop by and see if you needed any help.”

“That’s sweet of you, but I’ve got it under control. You’ve got a law office to run, anyway. Don’t you need to be there if a client comes by?”

“Client?” he chuckled. “I’ve had two so far. I left a note on the door to call me if someone comes by. It’s just a couple of blocks away. Besides, I haven’t seen your house.” He tried to press his way forward, but Pepper held her ground.

“There’s a good reason for that, Logan. It’s not ready yet. I don’t want anyone to see it until it’s done. Mama hasn’t even been here.”

“Someone has to see it if they’re going to help you. Come on, Pepper. We grew up in an old, busted trailer. I guarantee you this house isn’t going to bother me. I want to help.”

“She has help.”

Pepper heard Grant’s voice behind her. All she could do was close her eyes and sigh. Apparently she had not expressed to Grant how much her brother disliked his family and how bad it would be if he found them here together. This wasn’t going to go well.

“Who was that?” Logan asked with concern lining his eyes.

“That was . . . Grant.” She spoke his name slowly; her mouth didn’t want to cooperate.

“Chamberlain?” His brows shot up and his voice raised a few decibels.

With a groan, Pepper let the door swing open the rest of the way to reveal the smiling Grant standing in the living room. “Yep,” she said.

“How ya doing, Logan?”

Logan looked Grant up and down. He didn’t acknowledge his question; he just turned to look at Pepper with a disapproving frown. “Why is he here?”

“I told you,” she said. “He’s helping me.”

Logan narrowed his gaze at her. Pepper prayed her kiss-swollen lips and teeth-grazed throat weren’t obvious. Her disheveled appearance could be accounted for by working on the house, but a hickey—that would be all Grant’s doing.

“Helping you what?” he asked, his face starting to turn an unpleasant, splotchy red. He was seconds from a full-blown meltdown, she could tell.

“Grant is very handy. He’s helping me do a lot of things.” He’d done an unending list of chores over the last two days, but at the moment, the only things that came to mind involved his tongue.

“He is, is he?” Logan’s gaze traveled back over her shoulder to where Grant was standing. Grant didn’t say anything that she could hear, but he must’ve done something—grinned wickedly, waggled his eyebrows suggestively, made some crude gesture . . . Whatever it was pushed Logan over the edge. Logan’s mouth dropped open, his blue eyes widening in horror. “Oh my God, Pepper, you’re sleeping with him!”

“Shhh!” Pepper hissed, shoving Logan out onto the porch and slamming the door shut behind her. “You just hush your mouth and mind your own business.”

“A Chamberlain, Pepper! Didn’t Mama teach you anything? Didn’t their superior, stuck-up ways turn you off? Or were you blinded by the money?”

Money? Grant had done nothing but cost her money. “All right, you stop right there, mister!” Pepper said, jabbing her index finger into Logan’s chest. She might not have come to terms with how she felt about sleeping with Grant, but she wasn’t about to let her brother tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She’d have sex all day with Grant if she wanted to, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

“For one thing, who I’m sleeping with is none of your damn business. I am twenty-six years old and I don’t need your permission to do anything. I’ve grown up a lot since you left for law school, and you’d better get used to that. I don’t care who you’re sleeping with and I expect the same courtesy if you’re going to be living in Rosewood again.”

“But—”

“No buts, Logan. This is the way it is. I’m not going to tolerate any macho bullshit from you. You’re not going to start any fights with Grant or any of the other Chamberlain boys, and there’s not going to be any crap about defending my so-called honor. This isn’t the dark ages. Grant is a guest in my home and you’re going to treat him that way or you’re going to leave. Got it?”

Logan shuffled his feet on the ground and shrugged. He refused to commit to that. Fine, he could go home if he didn’t like it.

“And lastly, I’m certainly not going to tolerate you accusing me of sleeping with a Chamberlain for money. I mean, really? Do you think I’m a whore, Logan? Because that’s what you just said.”

Logan’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d implied in thoughtless anger. “Of course not, Pep. People can get caught up in the Chamberlain mystique, though. I just don’t want to see you getting hurt. He’s just going to—”

“Use me and break my heart. Yes, I know, Mama has said it a million times. But I’m not giving him my heart, Logan, so there’s not a problem there. He’s helping with my house because I accidently bid on him at the bachelor auction. You were there, you know that. That’s all there is to it. We’re not dating. He’s just spent all morning buffing my floors and no, that’s not a metaphor.”

“So . . . you’re not sleeping with him?” Logan shook his head dismissively as Pepper arched an eyebrow at him in warning. “Okay, okay, it’s not my business if you’re sleeping with him. I get it.”

“Thank you.”

“I guess you don’t need my help today, then.”

She shook her head no. “Maybe in a few weeks when it gets warmer, you can help me with the yard. You were always really good with Mom’s roses and getting things to grow. I don’t have anything, not even a lawnmower, so I’ll need all the assistance I can get.”

At that, Logan brightened. He smiled and the bravado faded away. “Sure. Just let me know when.” Logan reluctantly stepped back from the door. “I’ll see you later, Pepper.”

Pepper waved as he disappeared through her yard and down the street. The incident was averted for now, but she knew it wouldn’t last long. If she continued to see Grant, eventually her mother would find out and that would turn into a huge scene she’d rather avoid. But unless she and Grant went their separate ways at the end of this week, it would come to that. After all, she was sleeping with a Chamberlain. She had broken the cardinal rule of the Anthony household.

Pepper could ignore all the problems while she and Grant were working on this house, as if they were in a protective bubble from reality. But she knew it was certain to end badly sooner or later.

She didn’t need Logan or her mother’s help there.

Chapter Eight

“Um . . . why is the ladder truck parked outside my house?”

Grant came out of the bedroom, his face covered in a mask and every inch of him covered in drywall dust. He looked out the window and tugged the mask down to his chin. “They’re here!” he declared. “Great!”

“Wait, wait,” Pepper said, her eyes growing wide. “Who is here? Why are they here?” She turned back to the window, watching Mack, Kyle, and Paul make their way up the stone path with heavy toolboxes clutched in each hand.

“They’re here to help,” Grant said.

“No . . . I can’t have all these people in the house. You’re the only one I’ve let in. Tell them to go home.”

Grant turned to Pepper and gripped her shoulders in his hands. “The two of us can only do so much, Pepper. If you want to get your four thousand dollars out of this week, you need their help. Mack does electrical work, Kyle has experience with plumbing, and Paul used to work for his father’s drywall business. They’re here to help until they get a call and all they want in exchange is some pizza. I suggest you take full advantage of the opportunity while you can.”

Pepper’s lower lip trembled as she considered her options. Grant couldn’t understand why she was so hesitant to let people in her house. So it needed work? People couldn’t help her when they were standing on the sidewalk, gazing in her windows.

“Okay,” she said at last, but she still seemed doubtful. “Who’s watching the fire station?”

“The paramedics and the dispatcher are still there to take the calls. If something comes up, they’ll radio Mack.”

She reached for the doorknob and opened the door just as the guys reached the porch. “Morning, boys!” Grant shouted at them in welcome. “Come on in. Thanks for coming.”

The three men piled into the house, greeting Pepper and taking a look around. “No problem,” Mack said with a warm smile. Mack had the radio strapped to his hip, so they’d instantly receive any distress calls, as he’d told her. Weekday mornings tended to be relatively quiet, so Grant was hopeful they could make serious headway before anything came up.

“Where’s Travis? He was coming off the night shift with Paul, right?” Grant asked. They were a five-man firehouse, with only one of them off at a time. The remaining four alternated nights and days in twelve-hour shifts, with everyone on call in a major fire emergency. The firehouse worked in concert with the EMTs next door to make up the Rosewood Fire and Rescue squad. There were always two paramedics on duty as well to drive the ambulance.

“He’s coming,” Kyle said. “He went to his brother’s house to pick up the window and some sheets of drywall.”

“Window?” Pepper asked, looking confused.

“Travis’s brother owns a construction company in Trussville. He got us a deal on a new window for the bedroom and enough drywall to redo the other room.”

Pepper’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? Can I . . . I mean . . . I didn’t think I’d have enough money for that.”

Grant nodded. “You do. Travis’s brother got him the supplies at cost.” Pepper’s money would cover some, and if not all, Grant would cover the rest. With the peeper on the loose, he didn’t like the idea of her having an insecure bedroom window. It didn’t matter to him if it was full price, he’d pay for it himself to keep her safe.

“So where do we start?” Mack said, looking from him to Pepper for guidance.

Pepper held out her hand to Grant. He brought them here; he knew best what to have them work on.

“I’ve got to rip out all the drywall in one of the bedrooms. That’s what I was working on, so if you can help me with that, Paul, that’d be great. Once we get that down, I need you to check the electrical wiring in there, Mack. None of the switches or outlets work. If we need to do anything, I figured doing it when the Sheetrock was down would be easiest.”

Mack nodded. “I can check the other wiring in the house while you’re working on the drywall. These older houses usually need a good bit of updates.”

“Sounds good. Pepper, could you show Kyle the problems you’re having with the hot-water heater and the faucet in the bathroom? That should give us all a starting point.”

The crew split up, each of them tackling different tasks in the house. He didn’t tell Pepper about this, knowing she’d balk, but he’d had it set up from the very first day. After he’d visited her Sunday and assessed the damage, he knew this was a bigger job than just the two of them could handle. He’d gone straight to the firehouse to see what the others could do to help. The guys he worked with were all too happy to do what they could, especially with the promise of pizza in return.

The work went a lot quicker with additional sets of hands. They had pulled down all the Sheetrock from the bedroom walls and were hauling it outside when Travis finally pulled up. They all worked to bring in the new sheets of drywall and stack them inside while Mack worked on the wiring in there. In just a few hours, they’d installed the new window, gotten the electrical outlets working again, and rehung the drywall panels on the walls.

They were taping and mudding the seams when Pepper came into the bedroom to examine their progress. The smile on her face was priceless. It made every bit of the sweat and mostly self-inflicted pain of the last few days worth it.

“Well,” she said, “Kyle and I have fixed the leaky faucet and the hot-water heater is shipshape. It’s about noon. I was thinking of running up the street to pick up pizza and drinks. Will you guys be ready to take a break when I get back?”

A chorus of yeses answered her.

“Great. Any pizza requests?”

“Meat,” someone shouted, and his response was echoed enthusiastically by the others.

“All right, I’ll be back.” Pepper smiled at Grant and gave him a wink before she disappeared into the hallway.

Kyle picked up a trowel and started mudding seams with the others. Once they heard the front door slam, he turned to Grant with a curious expression on his face. “So tell us, Grant, what is this all about?”

Grant frowned and continued to smooth mud across the wall. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Kyle chuckled. “Come on, man. We’ve worked together for almost three years. Since that time, I’ve seen you mow through half the single women in this town. Not once have you done any hard labor for one, and you most certainly never recruited us to help.”

That was true, but Grant didn’t want to talk about it. He had a reputation of being a ladies’ man, and he didn’t want them to know that he had a soft underbelly exposed where Pepper was concerned. “None of my other dates paid four grand for my services. I want her to get her money’s worth.”

Paul wiped the sweat from his brow and smoothed over the last piece of tape. “Couldn’t you just give her four thousand dollars’ worth of orgasms?”

“Well, I could,” Grant said with a wicked grin. “And I still might. But this was more important to her.”

“You like her,” Mack said as a statement of fact.

Grant shrugged. “I do. There’s not much more to it right now, but I do like her.”

“Oh, how the mighty has fallen,” Travis wailed. “Could it be true that the great Grant Chamberlain has fallen prey to the clutches of a woman at last?”

“Big talk,” Grant muttered. “Considering two of you are married, one is divorced, and one is engaged, I’d say you all are experts of falling prey to women. But I think it’s a little early to be writing a eulogy for my bachelorhood.”

The guys snickered and went back to their chores, but Grant found himself struggling to focus on the drywall. Their jabs had struck a chord with him.

Grant had lived every day of his life since he was eleven worried that one day, he would turn into his father. He wasn’t sure if his mother knew the truth and turned a blind eye, or if she lived in blissful ignorance, but he knew if his father’s infidelity became public, it would hurt and embarrass her. He couldn’t bear for that to happen to his mother or to whatever woman had the misfortune of marrying him.

The guys ribbed him about Pepper, but the idea of getting serious with a woman was unnerving. He didn’t want to turn into his father and hurt the woman he loved and the family they’d built. Grant loved women. His father loved women. If he was the chip off the ol’ block that people always jokingly said he was, he was at risk of making the same mistakes. Grant refused to do that to someone and decided early on that if he couldn’t be faithful, he wouldn’t get in a committed relationship.

It was an easy fix, at least until Pepper came into his life. Grant could feel her pull on him. It was as though Pepper had hooked him and was reeling him in like a bass on an invisible fishing line. No matter how much he fought, he felt himself getting closer and closer. But unlike an unfortunate fish, Grant liked it. His original quest to bed Pepper just wasn’t enough. Now that he’d spent real, quality time with her, he wanted to keep doing it.

That meant facing his fears of being just like Dear Old Dad. It also meant potentially hurting Pepper if things didn’t work out. He hoped he could be monogamous, but he’d never tried. What if he failed? His falling for a woman was just fun and games to the guys, but it was a serious concern for him.

Grant’s ears perked up at the sound of the front door creaking open and slamming shut. “Pizza!” Pepper called from the living room.

Everyone put down their tools and shuffled one by one into the bathroom to wash up before they ate. Grant was the last in line, giving himself plenty of time to consider his coworkers’ words. If they could see that what was going on between the two of them was different, it must be. His grandmother seemed to see it, too, and had gone to a lot of trouble to make this relationship a possibility.

Was he falling into Pepper’s clutches? And if so . . . did he really mind?

As the sun set on an extremely productive day, Pepper stood in one of her newly renovated bedrooms and just shook her head. “It’s amazing. Just a few days and we’ve done what I couldn’t do in almost a year.”

They’d made leaps and bounds today, even with the other guys at the house for only a few hours. After lunch, Travis and Paul went home to get some sleep before their next shift at the firehouse. Mack and Kyle helped clean up, and when they finally got a call about a car accident on the interstate, they left for the day. She and Grant had completed mudding the drywall and finished up alone.

“We’ve still got work to do,” Grant said. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Pepper was startled at first by the intimate gesture, but found all too quickly that she liked it. Even though she knew she should, she couldn’t pull away.

“Once the mud is completely dry and sanded, we’ve got to prime and paint the walls in here. We still can’t move furniture in until Saturday because of the polyurethane on the floors.”

“None of that matters,” Pepper said. “That’s all little stuff I can do on my own. I can paint and hang pictures, move furniture, and put up curtains. Hanging drywall and disassembling my bathroom faucet is another matter. I mean . . . the lights come on in here now. You don’t understand how huge that is.”

“Well, remember, Mack says you still need to look into getting the house rewired. He was able to fix the connection so the outlets and switches would work in here again, but they’re old and really need to be replaced. If I were you, I’d contact an electrician to get a quote and start saving up to have that done.”

Pepper turned in his arms to look at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled her body tight against his own. “Thank you for this. For all of this. It’s more than I ever expected.”

“Hey, when you pay good money for Grant Chamberlain, you get nothing but the best.”

“Indeed.” Pepper leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. A tingle of awareness surged down her arms, making her fingertips press hungrily into his neck. She felt the familiar tug of desire in her belly, even after just a few moments of touching him. He had this ability to draw an immediate reaction from her body. He always had. It was a wonder she managed to resist his advances for as long as she had. Now that she had given in twice, it was hard to imagine ever stopping. So many women had loved and lost Grant in the past. How had they gotten through it? Perhaps they were smarter than she was.

Grant pulled away and looked down at her. He seemed to study her face for a moment, then a small smile curled his lips. “I want to take you out for Valentine’s Day,” he said.

Pepper’s brow drew together in confusion. That was the last thing she expected to hear. “You said that working on the house was my date.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said with a dismissive tone. “And it is, technically. But I can’t spend all week with you, working on your house, making love on the kitchen floor, and then leave you alone and lonely on Valentine’s Day. It just doesn’t seem right.”

Pepper shrugged. She had never put much value in the holiday, but standing here in his arms, she understood what he meant. She suddenly wanted to spend the day with him, too, but she wasn’t about to say it. “I told you, I’m not that big on Valentine’s Day. I think it’s just an excuse to drain a guy’s wallet on crap no one really needs.”

“I know, but it’s not about the gifts, it’s about the time. I promise I won’t waste a bunch of money on inflated gestures like giant boxes of chocolate or stuffed bears. Nothing cheesy. But I am going to take you out to a nice dinner with wine and good conversation. And for dessert . . . well, let’s just say I intend to have the bed in this room and ready to be used by then.”

Pepper twisted her lips into a smile. As much as she despised the commercial holiday, she had to admit it sounded nice after a week of working so hard on the house. The only worry was how public it would be. Once they stepped out together for the holiday, there would be no hiding that they were . . . whatever they were. Then again, the town already knew she bought him for Valentine’s Day. There would probably be more talk if she didn’t go out with him.

“Just you and me at a relaxing dinner? No paintbrushes and no hammers?”

“Not a one. Maybe a screwdriver, but the kind with orange juice and vodka.”

“Okay,” she relented, trying to ignore the surge of girlish excitement that was tingling in her spine. She could feel herself getting sucked into whatever this was. “But let’s not go to all the trouble of the fancy date you offered in the auction program. Let’s just do something simple in town.”

“I’ll see if I can get reservations at Whittaker’s. It’s a little late for that, but otherwise, it’s you and me at Pizza Palace.”

Pepper didn’t care. “That’s fine with me. I’ll whoop you at Skee-Ball.”

“Skee-Ball, huh? I’m pretty good, myself. But I am not getting you a Valentine’s gift I bought with game tickets, for the record.”

“Why not? You’ve already done more than enough for me. Even with the four thousand dollars I’d saved up, I don’t think I would’ve gotten as much labor done. The floors, the window . . .” She gestured toward her brand-new, operational, and not-drafty window beside them.

Grant turned toward it, and then jerked away from her. “What the hell?”

Pepper stepped back, looking in the direction of whatever had caught Grant’s attention. It was just the bedroom window. He rushed over to it, throwing open the new pane and crawling through it, only to tear off across her neighbor’s front yard after something.

She quickly closed and locked the window and about ten minutes later, there was a knock at her front door. Pepper opened it to find Grant standing on her porch. He was bent over, bracing his hands on his knees as his chest rose and fell rapidly with his ragged breathing.

“What is it?” Pepper asked. “What did you see?”

“The damn peeper!” he shouted angrily between breaths.

Pepper stepped back to let him inside, and he immediately reached for his cell phone on the table. She stood silent as he called the police station and reported her second run-in with the notorious Rosewood Peeping Tom.

“Simon is on his way,” Grant said as he hung up. “I almost had him.” He shook his head in dismay. “I chased him through the elementary school playground and across the park, but I lost him in the cemetery.”

Pepper slipped an arm around his waist and hugged him. “You tried. I didn’t even see him there.”

“I barely saw him. I only saw a face highlighted just barely from the lights, but it turned so quickly, I didn’t get any features. He was white and wearing dark clothing, but that’s about it.”

“That window has been covered with a tarp for months to try and keep my power bills down. We fixed it today. Today! What are the odds that the peeper just lucked across that window the first night they could see into it?”

Pepper watched Grant’s face draw down into a frown of thought. “You’re right. That’s too coincidental. Who knows what we were working on today?”

“Everyone at the house today, of course,” Pepper said. “I might’ve mentioned it when I went out to pick up pizza. I was chatting with Pat Kincaid at the Piggly Wiggly when I went in to get drinks and plates. Then, coincidentally, I ran into his wife Jeanette on my way to the Pizza Palace. She was jogging by and stopped to say hello. We talked a little about the work I was having done. She said they were needing to have some updates done to their house, too. That’s about it. I didn’t notice anyone around to overhear the discussion, but I suppose it could’ve happened. Did you tell anyone?”

Grant shrugged. “The guys at the firehouse, Travis’s brother who gave us the window and the drywall, but he lives in Trussville. I might have mentioned it to Blake, but it certainly wasn’t him. With Ivy in town, he’s barely left the house except to go to teach.”

That didn’t leave many suspects. “If it wasn’t one of the guys from the firehouse—”

“And it wasn’t,” Grant insisted.

“Then all I can think of is that the peeper lives somewhere nearby and saw us working. If they lived on the next street back, they could see the light coming through the window.”

There was a loud, official-sounding rap at the front door. “That must be Simon.”

Pepper paused as she opened the door. The last time Simon had come to the house, after her first peeper incident, she’d spoken to him on the porch. This time, her house was still in shambles, but she’d already let everyone else in. At least this time, she could use the excuse of renovation for why her house was a mess.

Gripping the knob, she opened the door. Simon was standing there, looking very much like an officer of the law. He was similar in height and build to Grant, although a touch leaner. The Kevlar vest, uniform, and coat he was wearing made him look bulkier, but she knew beneath that was a twenty-two-year-old kid with a loaded gun and a thirty-two-inch waist.

Even the gun couldn’t make Simon look menacing. He had the handsome, boy-next-door good looks that all the Chamberlain boys had, although facially, he took a little more after Helen than Norman. He had the blue eyes that all the boys were known for, but he had higher cheekbones, a narrower nose, and his hair was a slightly lighter brown than the other kids.

“Good evening, Miss Anthony.”

“Hi, Simon.” Pepper opened the door and stepped back. “Come on in.”

Simon came in, eyeing his brother, who was sitting in a chair in the corner. Pepper brought another chair from the kitchen into the living room. “I’m sorry everything is torn apart right now. Have a seat.”

Simon sat down and pulled out his notebook. “The dispatcher said you saw someone looking in the window.”

“Yes,” Grant said. “We’d just finished installing a new one in the bedroom today. It had been covered up prior to that. When I turned and looked, there was a face in the window for just a fraction of a second. I have no idea how long he was watching us.”

Simon hesitated, biting his lower lip anxiously before he spoke. “Were the two of you doing anything worth watching?”

Grant perked up in his chair. “What does that matter?”

“Don’t get defensive. We’re trying to establish a pattern and determine what it is he’s watching for. Most reports have been of women home alone doing everyday things. This is the first report we’ve gotten where there was a man in the house, too. That changes things.”

“I was in there alone at first,” Pepper said. “I was sweeping up the last of the dust. Grant came in behind me. It’s possible the peeper started watching me when I was alone and stayed when . . .”

An uncomfortable flush rose to Simon’s cheeks and Pepper felt exactly the same way. “Kissing,” she said. “We were just kissing. Nothing scandalous.”

Simon sighed in relief and made another note. “Grant, could you make anything out about the prowler?”

“He was wearing dark clothing. He was Caucasian. That’s about it. I climbed out the window and chased after him. Whoever it is, they’re pretty quick on their feet. They had a good head start on me, but I’m certain this was no old man. I lost him around the graveyard and came back to make sure Pepper was okay.”

Simon kept writing, making notes of everything Grant said. “Can I get an imprint of your shoes?” he said at last.

“Yeah,” Grant said. “Why?”

“Well, I’m going to go around the side of the house and see if there are more footprints. One was left at another house, so I’m hopeful there will be another that matches, so we can tie the incidents together. Having your imprint will help us eliminate your shoes from any I find out there.”

Pepper listened to the brothers talking, but she found she didn’t have much else to say on the matter. She hadn’t seen the peeper this time. All she knew was that she had been targeted twice by this pervert. Her house was in better shape than it had ever been and she was so close to making it the home she’d always dreamed of.

But how could she ever feel comfortable or safe knowing that guy was still out there?

Chapter Nine

“Have you always had that dress?”

Pepper looked down at the outfit she’d selected for their Valentine’s Day date and frowned. “Well, I’ve had it for a year or so. Why? Is something wrong with it?”

Grant looked her up and down with a desire surging through his veins. He suddenly felt too warm and the collar of his shirt was suddenly too tight. “Oh, no. Everything about that dress is very, very right. I just wanted to know how long I’ve missed out on seeing you wear it. You should wear that dress every day.”

She smiled and did a little spin in her entryway. The bright red dress was a bold contrast to her creamy, pale skin. The dress was fitted and fell just short of her knees. It was strapless with a sweetheart neckline that exposed her delicate collarbones and the full swell of her breasts. The silky red fabric had a layer of matching red lace over the top and a belt with a large red rhinestone daisy that highlighted her tiny waist.

“I think it’s a little much for the Piggly Wiggly,” she said. “Especially with these uncomfortable red satin pumps.”

They might be painful, but they were hot. He didn’t even know how she could walk in heels like those. “No worries. They make your legs look amazing. I guarantee you that any red-blooded man who sees you in that dress will gladly carry you wherever you need to go.” Grant pulled out the small bouquet of roses he had hidden behind his back and offered them to her. “These are for you.”

Pepper accepted the bundle of peach-and-pink roses and brought them to her nose. They were exactly like the rose he’d given her after the auction, although he was certain she’d been too spun up that night to remember that.

“You weren’t supposed to buy me anything,” she argued.

Grant shrugged. “Force of habit. Besides, those roses remind me of you.”

She looked down with uncertainty at the pale peachy flowers with the pink edges on the petals. “I’m not sure how, but thank you. Let me put them in a vase.”

Turning on her heels, she walked back into her kitchen. From his vantage point in the doorway, he could see her open a couple of cabinets, then finally settle on putting the flowers into a plastic drinking cup filled with water. It did the job tonight but Grant made a mental note to bring her flowers in a vase so she would have one for future flowers.

That was interesting, he thought. He intended to buy her more flowers. That meant more dates. That was a pretty serious thought to just leap into his head.

The thoughts disappeared as Pepper walked back to the front door with her purse clutched under her arm. With every step, the red lace seemed to creep higher up her legs. It would be either completely impossible, or just vulgar, for her to ride his Harley in that dress.

She noticed Grant watching her every step. “What is it?” she asked.

“I was just thinking about how grateful I am that Whittaker’s is right across the street.”

“Why, so we can run home when we’re done eating and have sex?”

Grant chuckled. “That’s not a bad idea. But no, I was just trying to figure out how you’d get onto the back of my motorcycle in that dress.”

That made her smile. “For future reference, if you intend to take me anywhere on the back of your bike, I require either advanced warning or the ability to change my outfit before we leave. Otherwise . . . we’re driving my SUV.”

“Fair enough.”

Pepper locked her front door and they strolled together to Whittaker’s. The restaurant was the best Rosewood had to offer. It was the only place for thirty miles that had tablecloths and multiple forks at the place settings. For some reason, his mother seemed to find value in that. On the days Grant hopped on his bike and rode wherever the highway led him, he’d come across plenty of holes-in-the-wall with amazing food. No tablecloths, but amazing food.

Whittaker’s was nice enough. It was decorated with dark wood paneling and the tables and booths were upholstered in a deep burgundy leather with brass brads. There was a fireplace roaring in the center of the restaurant, and a far wall behind the bar was covered with their massive wine collection. At the moment, the restaurant and lobby were packed with wall-to-wall people.

They checked in at the hostess stand and were escorted to a private table for two just a few moments later.

“And you thought you couldn’t score a reservation that late,” Pepper noted as they walked through the restaurant.

“Well, it’s obnoxious, I know, but my last name does tend to open doors. Especially since the owners are friends with my parents.”

“Ahh . . .” Pepper said, taking her seat and letting Grant push in her chair. “So this is what it’s like to be a Chamberlain, huh?”

He shrugged. “It’s all I know, so I can’t really compare it to anything else.”

“It’s different for others,” she said. “I assure you.”

The waiter arrived, taking their drink orders and telling them about the special prix fixe menu they were offering for the holiday. Grant ordered them a bottle of a recommended wine for the meal. The waiter returned only a moment later, pouring him a small amount for his approval, then pouring them both a healthy goblet of pinot noir. They made their dinner selections and the server disappeared to fetch their first course.

“So, do you bring girls here often?” she asked as she sipped her wine.

“Actually, no.” Grant had been to the restaurant several times with family, but he had to admit this was the first time he’d ever brought a date there. “You’re the first.”

“I feel so special,” she said with a smile that betrayed her amusement. “I bet potentially running into your family can cramp your style.”

“It certainly does. I usually take my ladies out of town. But you requested we keep it local, so here we are.”

Pepper looked around the restaurant. “I don’t see any Chamberlains, so I think we’re safe. For now, at least. You never know when more of you will start pouring out of the woodwork.”

Grant noted a tone in her voice as she spoke about his family. When she’d first rebuffed his advances years ago, he had thought at first it was about him. He was too young, too annoying, too short. But getting older, smoother, and taller hadn’t helped, either. Over the years, he’d started to wonder if it had anything to do with him at all. Pepper’s resistance seemed to have more to do with his name than anything else. And it wasn’t just her. Her mother always gave him the stink eye at the counter when he took his car in to be serviced. Her brother had made his distaste for the family perfectly clear when he stopped him outside the dry cleaner’s.

“Can I ask you a question? It’s something I’ve wanted to ask you for a long time.”

Pepper took a sip of her wine and nodded. “Okay.”

“This is awkward for a date, and I apologize, but why does your family seem to hate my family? I mean, I don’t think it goes both ways like a Hatfield and McCoy–type rivalry. I actually don’t recall your family ever being a topic of conversation or gossip at my house aside from the time Logan tried to break Blake’s nose in high school.”

“He didn’t try. He succeeded,” she said, almost proud of her brother’s achievement of rearranging Blake’s face.

“Okay, yes, Logan broke Blake’s nose. But I don’t even know what started that fight. Blake never wanted to talk about it and Dad shut the whole thing down pretty quickly. Did my family do something to yours? If one of us did, I have no idea what was done. Is it something I can fix or just the general stuck-up attitude that rubs people the wrong way? I know sometimes I don’t like Maddie at all, but we’re not all like her.”

At last, Pepper shook her head. “No, it’s not something you can fix, not really. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure what happened between our families, either, but it happened long before you or I ever came along.”

Grant sighed and reached for his wine. His father. That wasn’t a surprise. He could easily see the man doing something to alienate Pepper’s family. As the only lawyer in town, he could’ve helped someone swindle them out of an inheritance with a legal loophole, kept someone from being prosecuted, gotten someone prosecuted unfairly . . . and then, the inevitable sex thing. Norman Chamberlain’s penis was probably the front- runner of causing strife between their families.

“The way my mom talks about your family,” Pepper said, “I get the impression she either dated your dad, or a friend of hers did and it ended badly. That and the fact that your family seemed to get everything hers never did. She raised my brother and me to be suspicious of the whole family. The way she saw things, the Chamberlains suffered no consequences for their actions and cared about no one but themselves. She’d always warned me to stay away from the wicked Chamberlain boys. Apparently you’re just going to use me for sex and cast me aside.”

Grant’s eyes widened slightly, although he shouldn’t be surprised, if his father was involved. His own reputation probably hadn’t helped the matter, but he was always up front with women, so they shouldn’t feel chewed up and spit out when he was done with them. He certainly hadn’t cast aside Pepper, and he didn’t want to—a thought that scared the crap out of him.

“Well, no one sent me that memo, so I’m sorry to disappoint your mother and be a nice guy.”

“You know, you’d think she’d be more disappointed to be proven right than wrong. For my sake, at least. But she’d probably get some kind of satisfaction from you using me.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Pepper’s brow went up. “About what?”

“About me.”

“Who says that I’ve changed my mind?” she asked with a coy smile. “If you’ll recall, I only got roped into this whole scenario because I had a serious financial investment in it.”

Grant wanted to call bullshit on her. She was acting far too casual about the last week and they both knew that wasn’t true. Did acting like it was nothing make it easier when it turned into nothing? Probably. “Your financial investment has nothing to do with what happened on that kitchen floor.”

Her eyes widened and she started stuttering. “W-well, yes. I mean, th-that was just a onetime thing. Close quarters can make people do crazy things. Now that the house is nearly finished and Valentine’s Day is upon us . . . who knows what will happen? Maybe nothing.”

Grant leaned across the table and pinned her with his gaze. “Pepper,” he said in a low voice, “what do you want to happen?”

Pepper sucked in a ragged breath, her shiny red-painted lips parting softly. A flush rose to her cheeks, accentuating the carefully applied blush she already had on and reminding him once again of those peach-and-pink roses. Her dark eyes focused on him, a skittishness evident in her wary gaze.

“Be honest with me, Pepper. That’s all I ask of anyone.”

With imperfect timing, the waiter appeared with a caprese salad for Pepper and a wedge of iceberg for him. His appearance killed the intense atmosphere that had hovered over them.

“I don’t know what I want, Grant. It’s only been a week. Aside from the kitchen and the kiss before the peeper struck, it isn’t exactly like we’ve been fostering a relationship. We’ve been doing home improvement projects. You could use me for sex and cast me aside any moment now, proving my mother right all along.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Her gaze had been focused on her plate, but now she met his eyes with her own. “To get back at me for last time?”

He hadn’t been expecting that. The night they spent together was amazing. The only thing it inspired for him to get back was her, in his bed. “Why would I want to get back at you?”

“For beating you at your own game. Turning the tables. Letting you wake up alone for the first time. You could’ve felt used or irritated that I left, especially when I wouldn’t see you again. Dating me just so you could drop me is a real possibility.”

“Wow,” Grant said. She really did think poorly of his family. Just a bunch of stuck-up, womanizing bastards.

“You said to be honest,” she added when she heard his stunned reaction.

“I know, and thank you. To extend the same courtesy to you, yes, I was a little thrown off by your quick departure. But at the same time, I was intrigued. You were like Cinderella, running from the ball at midnight, and I was the determined prince tracking you down. Although, unlike Cinderella, you didn’t want to be tracked. But I liked that, too.”

Pepper’s brow shot up curiously. “You liked that I rejected you?”

“More that I liked the challenge. I don’t have to tell you that I usually get my way. For years, you’ve been the exception, and I knew you were unlike all the other women in town. And from the day you crept out of my bed to the day you pepper sprayed me, you’ve been on my mind. You didn’t seem to want me, at least not publicly. As twisted as it may sound, it made me want you desperately. Having you in my bed didn’t change that the way I expected it to. It just made me want you more, but you were gone. I could still taste you on my tongue. I could hear your passionate cries in my silent, still bedroom.”

Grant spoke the words lowly so no one nearby could hear them but her. Even then, anyone nearby could guess what he was saying by the red flush of her cheeks and the twinkle of desire in her eyes.

“Really?” she asked, near breathless.

“Really. You’re an unforgettable woman, Pepper. If I were to just use you and cast you aside, I’d be a damn fool.”

They opted to get their dessert—a slab of Death by Chocolate cake for two—to go, to eat back at her house. Once the bill was paid and the last of the wine consumed, they scooped up the to-go box and rushed home.

“It’s amazing how different your place looks,” Grant said when they stepped inside.

It was true. Once the back bedrooms were painted and the furniture could be moved in, things really started falling into place. She’d spent half of today putting things away in closets and hanging pictures, and the other half trying to decide what she was going to wear tonight. Judging by Grant’s appreciative gaze as it roamed over her body, and over the house, he approved of all her handiwork.

“It certainly seems bigger when I’m not living in the livbedoset.”

“The what?”

Pepper smiled. “That’s what I called the living room, because it was combined with my bedroom and closet. Now that it’s back to being just a living room, I should stop calling it that.”

The bedroom furniture and all her clothes were in one bedroom. The boxes and items she had stored in the dining room were in the extra bedroom for now. She wasn’t sure what she would do with the other space, but she had time to figure it out now that she had an actual dining room and living room to sit in and think.

Pepper set her purse down on the coffee table and slipped out of her jacket. “Dinner was great, Grant. Thank you for taking me.”

Grant approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I assure you the pleasure was all mine. I think we both deserved a night like tonight after all our hard work.”

She ran her hands over the soft fabric of his suit coat and pushed it over his shoulders. It slipped down to his hands and he laid it gently across the arm of the couch. “You’ve done so much for me this week, Grant. I’ve been racking my brain all day trying to figure out how to make it up to you.”

Grant’s blue eyes focused on hers. He swallowed hard, the muscles of his throat working up and down. “You paid a lot of money for my company.”

Pepper reached for his tie and loosened it, tugging it off. Her fingers moved nimbly down the front of his shirt, undoing each button until she reached his belt. “I didn’t pay you. I paid the Tornado Fund. You didn’t see a penny of it.”

“It was for a good cause,” he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath as her fingers unfastened his belt.

“It was,” Pepper agreed. “And you’re a good man for volunteering. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

Pepper slipped her hand into his pants and stroked the bulge straining against his briefs. Grant didn’t agree or disagree, he just groaned. With her other hand, she unzipped the fly of his pants to give herself better access. His suit pants slipped down his thighs, revealing the black briefs he had on underneath.

Kicking out of her heels, she slipped to the floor in front of him. She tugged down his underwear, exposing the hard length of Grant’s desire. Her fingers immediately closed around him, sending a shudder through Grant’s whole body. “So I thought and thought about what you might like,” she said, slowly stroking him as she spoke. “Finally, I came up with an idea I think you’ll appreciate.”

“I’m sure I will,” Grant managed between tightly gritted teeth.

Pepper didn’t respond. Instead, she flicked her tongue over the tip of him. Grant hissed, encouraging her to do it again. She moved to the base, running her tongue along the underside before slipping him into her mouth.

“Pepper,” he groaned.

She worked over him with her mouth until the muscles of his thighs were so tense, she thought he might rip his pants. Then she stopped and reached for the dessert box. “Why don’t you slip out of the rest of that and meet me in the bedroom?”

Climbing to her feet, Pepper winked at him seductively and disappeared down the hall. A completely naked Grant arrived in her bedroom a few moments later.

“Lie down,” she said, pointing to the bed.

Grant enthusiastically hopped onto her mattress. He crossed his arms behind his head and smiled wide at her. “Whatever you say.”

While he watched, she unfastened the belt of her dress and then tugged the zipper down her spine. The dress slipped to the floor and she stepped out of it wearing nothing but a strapless red lace bra and matching panties.

“Red is my favorite color,” Grant noticed with appreciation in his eyes.

“Oh yeah? I’ll leave this on a little while longer, then.” Pepper crawled onto the foot of the bed, spreading his legs wide to nestle between them. Then she reached for the to-go box and opened it.

Inside was an enormous slab of cake. It was multiple layers of cake, chocolate mousse, fudge, and cheesecake. She ran her index finger through the chocolate icing, then dragged her fingertip down from the tip to the base. Bringing the finger to her mouth, she sucked the remaining icing away, making sure Grant watched every move she made. Then, after making him wait an excruciating amount of time, she leaned in and licked his skin clean.

She was about to go for another dollop of fudge when Grant’s hand shot out to grasp her wrist. He sat up in bed and shook his head. “No more. If you don’t stop . . .” He trailed off with a cleansing breath. “Besides, I like chocolate, too.”

Surging forward, he knocked Pepper onto her back and covered her body with his own. With the flick of his wrist, he unsnapped her bra and threw it to the side. Once her breasts were exposed, he was able to finger-paint across her skin in chocolate like she had. The fudge encircled her nipples and left a trail down her stomach to the lacy edge of her panties.

His tongue was cool as it glided along her skin, but the trail he left in his wake was red-hot. Her nipples hardened to painfully aching peaks under his attentions. When he slid down her belly and encircled her navel, Pepper wasn’t sure how much more she could take. He tugged her panties down her legs and placed one more carefully applied drop of chocolate between her thighs.

The moment he touched her there, she nearly lost it. Her back arched up off the bed, her hands grasping at the sheets beside her. By the time the chocolate was gone, she was on the edge. “Grant, please,” she whispered, tugging at his arms. She wanted him inside her. Now.

Fortunately, Grant complied. With only a momentary hesitation to acquire protection, he crawled back onto the bed. In one long, slow movement, he hovered over her body, surging forward until he was buried deep inside her. They rocked together on her bed, tasting and clawing at each other as their desperation grew.

Pepper’s face was buried in Grant’s neck when her release hit her. She locked her ankles around his waist, taking him with her as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Grant followed on her heels, surging into her with a satisfied cry that mingled with her own.

When at last they both lay there silent and still except for their chorus of labored breaths, Grant rolled to his side. Pepper backed up against him until he was curled up behind her with his arm draped over her waist.

Exhausted and satiated, she closed her eyes and started drifting off to sleep. She was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when she heard the low rumble of Grant’s voice at her ear.

“Pepper?”

Her eyes fluttered open, searching the dark room for a moment, then relaxing back into the pillows. “Yes?”

“This week together has been . . .” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” she agreed. He didn’t have to say the words. She understood. It had been better than she’d ever imagined. More than she had expected. She wasn’t certain what that meant, but couldn’t regret a moment she’d spent with him.

“I’m not ready for it to end. I want to keep seeing you. Publicly,” he added.

With her back to him and her brain slightly foggy with sleep, it was easier to be honest. “Won’t that put a damper on your sex life?”

“That depends on how often you’re willing to put out,” he said with a chuckle. He quickly tightened his grip on her and leaned his mouth closer to her ear. “I’m being serious. I’ve never done this before. I’m not sure how it’s going to go, but I want to date you, Pepper. Just you. This feels like high school to me, but . . . will you be my girlfriend?”

She didn’t know what to say. This was a serious offer from Grant; one not easily dismissed. He’d been honest when he said he hadn’t done this before. She’d never known him to see any woman more than casually. That, of course, just fed the fears in her brain that her mother had planted there. But he was offering more and she wanted to accept it. She felt the anxiety of facing her family and what they would say, but perhaps if they got to know him like she did, they would understand. Was it worth the potential strife to be with him? She thought so.

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s give it a try. Yes, I will be your girlfriend.”

Grant sat up, allowing Pepper to roll onto her back and look at him. “Really?” he asked.

“Really.”

Grant broke into a wide grin and met her lips with his own. Pepper wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer. Despite their prior lovemaking, she could feel her desire for him stirring again. She melted into him and felt herself get swept up in it.

Gladly.

Chapter Ten

Pepper got a call from her mother early the next morning. Well, early-ish. It was almost ten, but considering she’d been making love with Grant until the sun had nearly risen, it seemed like dawn.

Through her sleepy ears, she deciphered that she was to come over at one for Sunday supper. There was no arguing the point, especially if she wanted to go back to bed anytime soon. Her mother was cooking a roast and Logan was coming, too. Pepper acquiesced and then rolled back over to sleep for another hour and a half. Around noon, she shooed Grant out of her bed, got into the shower, and got ready to drive to her parents’ place.

Their sixties-era brick rancher had once been the main house at a large soybean farm. The owners decided to build a larger, more impressive farmhouse, and sold off a parcel of two acres with the older home on it. By the time her parents moved, Logan had already gone off to college and Pepper had gotten her own apartment. It was a modest home, but it inspired her to save her pennies and one day buy her own place.

When she arrived and pulled open the screen door, the house was quieter than she expected. There should’ve been sports on too loud in the living room with her dad perched in his recliner. Logan should’ve been beside him, shouting his sports commentary over the television.

Instead, she strolled through the dark, quiet living room and into the kitchen. There, she found her mama hard at work cleaning up. “Hey, Mama,” she said.

“Hey, sugar. Glad you could make it. I made your favorite coconut cake for dessert.”

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble.” She knew her mother’s coconut cake recipe was a major ordeal that involved actual coconuts, not some mix by Betty Crocker. She usually only got that on her birthday.

“That’s okay, I wanted to.”

“Where’s Daddy?” Pepper asked.

Kate Anthony looked up from the dishes in the sink and brushed an errant strand of gray-streaked red hair out of her face. The rest was pulled up in a prim bun the way she’d always worn it. As a child, when her mother worked at the elementary school cafeteria, she’d had to wear it that way beneath her hairnet. It had been years since she’d graced an industrial kitchen, but the hair was the same.

“Logan took him down to the shop,” she said. “He wanted to see how things have been going at the garage without him. He seems to be doing a lot better lately, thank the Lord.”

Pepper sat down at the kitchen table. She had an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Her mother made her favorite cake. She could smell a pot roast cooking in the oven, but dinner was an hour away at least. Something was up. She had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t like whatever it was.

“Why did you invite me over so early?”

“Can’t a mother want to spend time with her busy daughter she never sees?”

Pepper looked at her mother with her lips pressed into a hard line. “Spill it, Mama.”

“Fine,” Kate said. “We’ll skip the pleasantries.” She dried her sudsy hands on a dishtowel and sat down at the table opposite Pepper. “I invited you over early because I wanted to talk to you without your daddy or brother here. What’s going on with you and that Chamberlain boy?”

Pepper sighed, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. As a teenager, that would earn her extra chores. She was a grown woman now, but somehow, she didn’t think the results would be any different. “His name is Grant,” she corrected.

“It doesn’t matter,” her mother said. “One Chamberlain is the same as any other. And they’re all up to no good. What are you doing spending so much time with him?”

Pepper hadn’t told her mother about this, and for good reason. How had she found out? “Did Logan tell you? I’m gonna kill him.”

Kate pursed her lips and then shook her head. “No, he didn’t, although he’ll get a talking-to for hiding this from me. I heard about it at church this morning. I was standing out on the front steps waiting for your daddy to finish talking to Reverend Yates, when Connie Jackson came up to me. Apparently you were spotted having a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner with him last night.”

Pepper crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “And what about that is a surprise? Surely you heard about my unfortunate auction incident. I paid a fortune for that date, why wouldn’t I go on it?”

“You didn’t have to go. And from what I’ve heard, it wasn’t just a dinner. He’s been at your house all week.”

“Helping me,” Pepper said with emphasis. “My house is functional for the first time since I bought the place and it’s all because of Grant. He has done nothing but go out of his way to help me.”

“To get you in bed,” she replied with a bitter tone tainting her words.

“Mama, he’d already had me in bed long before all that, so you can throw that logic out the window.”

Her mother gasped and brought a hand to her bosom in melodramatic southern fashion. “Pepper, no!”

“I’m twenty-six years old, Mama. You can’t be surprised I’m not a virgin.”

“I don’t expect you to be a virgin, Pepper. But I did expect you to keep away from the Chamberlains. Have I taught you nothing? Did all my words of wisdom fall on deaf ears? They’re just out to use you for sex.”

“And what if I’m out to use him for sex? What then, Mama? I’m not entertaining any fantasies about falling in love and getting married.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re still going to get hurt. You just need to stay away from the whole lot. Break it off with him. I insist.”

Pepper frowned, leaning back in her chair. “What happened, Mama? I’m not a child anymore, tell me the truth. Your words are those of a woman scorned. If they’re so awful, why don’t you tell me exactly how dangerous they are from your personal experience? Did you date Norman Chamberlain?”

Kate sighed and waited awhile before she answered. “Yes, I suppose you could call it that. It wasn’t exactly what you would consider dating, or the norm at the time, but we were together in secret for a few months.”

“Why in secret?”

Her mother snorted in contempt. “Because I wasn’t good enough for him. I was poor, my family was uneducated. He told me his mother wouldn’t approve of us, so he saw me quietly while he dated Helen to make Adelia happy.”

This story didn’t ring true to Pepper. Not long ago, Ivy had told her about the discussion she and Adelia Chamberlain had at tea last summer. Adelia had been in the same shoes, the unsuitable girl. Why would she be prejudiced against a woman from the same background? She pressed her mother for the rest of the story. “What happened?”

“I fell for him. I was a fool, I know that now, but I got swept up in the forbidden aspect of the romance. And then one day, he told me that he’d proposed to Helen.”

“So he broke up with you?”

“No. He said he wanted to keep seeing me. That he loved me, but he had to marry Helen. I couldn’t agree to that, of course, so I broke it off with him.”

Pepper had a hard time connecting the dots. How had a short-lived love affair poisoned her mother against the entire family? “You guys broke up, he married another woman. I can see how that could be hard on you, but I don’t understand all the animosity. All these years later, you hate the entire family like they betrayed you somehow. What else happened?”

“Isn’t that enough? He took my innocence, Pepper. He told me he loved me, then tried to relegate me to a mistress he kept in the shadows.”

Pepper sat quietly. There was more to the story. If there was one thing she knew, it was that her mother was uncomfortable with silence. If Pepper sat quiet long enough, she would spill.

Her mother watched Pepper, waiting for a reaction that wouldn’t come. After a full minute, she sighed and slumped in her chair. A sadness drew down the corners of her mouth and a distance in her eyes made her look as though she’d slipped fully into the past. “I’m just trying to protect you from making the same mistakes I made. Do you think this Chamberlain boy would do the right thing if you got pregnant?”

Pepper’s heart stuttered in her chest, not beating for two whole seconds until she sucked in a panicked breath. “Pregnant? Who’s talking about being pregnant?”

“I’m talking about being pregnant. Because that’s what happened to me.” Kate let the words hang in the air for a moment for Pepper to absorb them. “I didn’t find out until after Norman and I had broken up. The wedding plans were in full swing, the invitations had gone out, and I finally worked up the nerve to drive to Birmingham and buy a pregnancy test where no one could see me do it. It was positive. I sat in my car and cried for an hour at the gas station.”

“What happened?” Pepper said, now on the edge of her seat. How had she never known about this?

“I finally found the courage to tell Norman. In retrospect, I don’t know what I expected him to say. I guess in my childish romantic fantasies, I thought he’d break it off with Helen and marry me because that was the right thing to do. That wasn’t reality, of course. Norman basically told me that it didn’t matter if I was pregnant. He was marrying Helen and didn’t care about me. He gave me a check for a thousand dollars and told me to deal with it. I could have the child, not have the child, it made no difference to him, but he wouldn’t have anything to do with it. And if I told anyone it was his, he’d ruin me. No one would believe that he’d stoop to sleeping with trash like me, he said. I thought he loved me.” Kate shook her head sadly. “I was young and stupid, but my heart was just broken. I was completely devastated.”

Pepper couldn’t imagine such a thing, especially in such a small town. Everyone would find out about it. How did Norman expect her to keep something like that a secret? Someone would believe her. And yet she had kept it quiet—from Pepper at least. “What did you do?”

Kate’s eyes dropped into her lap, tears threatening to rush down her reddened cheeks. “I did what I had to do, Pepper. Until you’re in a position like that, you don’t know what you’re capable of. I just . . . I can’t talk about it and I never have. You can’t tell anyone what I’ve told you. Not even your brother. This is a secret I’ve held for a long time, and I’ve only told you the truth because I need you to understand what that family is capable of. The Chamberlains will chew you up and spit you out. Don’t ever forget that.”

Grant’s first day back to work was a rough one. It was always hard to go back after a stretch of seven days off, but considering he’d done nothing but hard labor the whole time, this past stretch hadn’t felt like much of a break. He was hopeful for a quiet day. That, of course, meant that it would be chaotic at best. At least he was working with Mack today. The fire chief was a pretty mellow guy. It took a lot to get him spun up, and Grant was trying to learn from his example.

He slipped down into a seat at the kitchen table of the small, two-story firehouse. The historic site had always been the Rosewood fire station. The narrow building had originally housed the water wagon and stalls for the horses that pulled it. Updates over the years had allowed them to accommodate the newer, larger fire trucks, and eventually, their ladder truck. The new truck pretty much took up the entire ground floor. Their equipment was along the wall of the garage in lockers, but their desks, common area, kitchen, and bunks were upstairs.

Mack was reading the latest issue of the Rosewood Times when Grant sat down. “Morning,” he said, flicking his gaze over Grant. “Have a nice Valentine’s Day with your bidder?”

Grant smiled ear to ear. “Yeah . . .” he said, not wanting to elaborate. It had been a great day, perhaps his best ever. After all the grief the guys had given them at her house, he wasn’t about to speak a peep of that to anyone until he knew what he was going to do about the newly developing relationship. “We were so exhausted from all the work on the house that we just went to Whittaker’s with everyone else in town. How about you? Who bid on you again?”

“Cheryl Buckman.”

“That’s right, the ice-cream lady.” Grant smiled. Cheryl was in her forties, around Mack’s age, and never married. She spent all her time at Scoops, her family’s ice-cream parlor on the square. From Grant’s limited assessment of her, her biggest liability was that she never seemed comfortable in her own skin. That was a guaranteed man-repellant. Mack seemed like just the right kind of guy for her. He liked his women soft and curvy, and he had an unmatched sweet tooth. “So . . . did you get to taste two scoops of her creamy goodness?”

Mack folded the paper and frowned at him. “I’m not a gigolo. It was just a date. A nice date, but just a date.”

“What did you two do on this nice date?”

Mack got up from the table and went into the kitchen. “I had her over to my place and cooked dinner. I did a big Italian spread like my mom used to make. My mom always used to tell me that I shouldn’t trust a woman who didn’t eat well. If a woman picked at her food when faced with an amazing meal, she wasn’t right for her son.”

Grant nodded. “Did Cheryl eat?”

“Every crumb,” Mack said with a sly grin that made Grant think the date went better than he was letting on. “How could she turn down a feast like mine? You’ve had my chicken Parmesan. It’s to die for.”

That was the truth. The fire chief was the cook in the house, usually stepping up to feed the rest of the firemen, who were useless when it came to food. When Mack was on his off week, they ate a lot of pizza and picked up to-go orders from Ellen’s Diner.

Mack looked into the refrigerator for a minute, pulled out the carton of milk, then slammed the door shut and poured a bowl of cereal.

“It was nice,” he continued. “Better than I imagined. We ate, we had some wine, and sat out on my deck and talked with the fire pit going. We graduated a year apart in high school, but our paths never really crossed. I was with my ex, Shelley, back then, so I only had eyes for her. Since the divorce, I’ve been more focused on the job. But talking to Cheryl, we have a lot in common.”

“Sounds interesting,” Grant noted with a flat tone. He could tell his boss was leaving out the key, juicy details of his date with Cheryl.

Mack clutched the bowl of cereal to his chest. “We did end up going to the ice-cream shop around two in the morning. She made me the best hot fudge sundae I’ve ever had in my life.”

Grant perked up and went to get his own cup of coffee. “You guys talked until two in the morning?”

Mack frowned at him and shoveled a large bite of cereal into his mouth. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and then said, “How about your date with Pepper?”

Grant grinned and let his boss change the subject. “We had a good time. No ice cream in the middle of the night, but I can’t complain.”

“I’m telling you,” Mack said, “take Pepper to Scoops and split the Fudge Royale sundae.”

Grant nodded. He’d keep that in mind; he already knew they both enjoyed chocolate fudge. He was thankful they’d hung window blinds in time for that encounter. But that reminded him of a question he wanted to ask. “Hey, Mack, did you happen to mention to anyone that we replaced that window at Pepper’s house?”

Mack finished chewing and shook his head. “I don’t think so. Why?”

“Well, that night we had a visit from the peeper. It was either dumb luck on his part or he knew the window had been replaced and wouldn’t be covered up yet.”

Mack leaned back against the kitchen counter and frowned. “You know, Cheryl had a run-in with the peeper, too, about a week or so ago. A few days before the auction.”

“Was she home alone?” he asked, following up on Simon’s theory that the peeper seemed to target women alone at night.

“Yeah. It was pretty late, too. The shop closed up at nine, then she drove home. It was nearly ten when she noticed someone watching her through her living room window.”

Grant shook his head. “This was the second time he’s been to Pepper’s house. Simon says nearly fifteen different single women in Rosewood have reported prowlers since Christmas. I don’t like it. They need to catch this creep.”

“Yeah, they do. My sister is home alone with the kids at night while her husband works at the hospital. If that pervert cracks one glimpse of my sister or one of the girls, I’ll pummel him with my bare hands.”

His sisters. It hadn’t even occurred to him that this guy might go after his sisters. Hazel was probably safe since she still lived at home, but Maddie had recently bought one of the older houses on Daisy Drive. It was nearly spitting distance from the fire station, on a well-lit intersection, but it was also directly across the street from Woody’s Bar, where any drunken idiot could stumble into her yard to take a peek.

“I’d better talk to Maddie and make sure all her windows are locked and cover—”

The alarm went off, interrupting Grant and making his heart leap in his chest. They both sprang into action. He tossed his coffee into the sink and rushed down the stairs with Mack close behind him.

“What have we got?” Grant heard Mack shout into his radio.

“Ambulance and support rescue vehicle requested at 1473 Azalea,” the dispatcher responded. “Suspected heart attack victim. Possible DOA.”

They shot out the side door to the rescue truck and pulled out into the street just behind the ambulance. With sirens blazing, they raced through the streets to the address on Azalea Street.

Dead on arrival. Despite what the dispatcher said, a possible DOA usually meant a definite DOA, but it took a paramedic to officially confirm the person had died.

Every time a call came in to the station, there was a moment of panic as Grant waited to hear the address. Was it someone he knew? Someone he cared about? His family? This address was unfamiliar, but that didn’t mean anything. He knew most of the people in town, even if he couldn’t recite their addresses by heart.

It didn’t take long to get there. They rounded the corner in time to see the two EMTs, Naomi and Isaac, pull into the driveway and charge for the front door. Mack parked on the street and they followed behind into the house. The older sedan in the driveway looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Until he got inside. Grant’s heart sunk when they went into the living room and he saw the portraits on the wall. This was Bert Swenson’s house. Had the widower’s heart finally given out? Grant moved down the hallway, following the voices, until they entered the master bedroom.

The first thing he saw—surprisingly—was Bert Swenson standing nervously by the doorway. He was wearing his bathrobe over his pajamas, his thin graying hair was going every which way, and he was nervously chewing at his thumbnail. If Bert was okay . . .

Grant moved past him into the room. There were clothes scattered all over the floor. There was even a bra there that he gingerly stepped over. Bert had company. Naomi and Isaac were both hovering over a still figure on the bed. When Isaac turned to get something out of the case, he could see the face at last. It was Estelle Townsend, the owner of Rosewood Bakery and the one who had paid seven thousand dollars for Bert’s company at the bachelor auction.

Oh dear . . . Grant’s eyes widened when he realized Miss Estelle was wearing a lacy, red negligee. There was a giant bottle of lubricant on the nightstand next to a hot-pink vibrator that would make any man feel inadequate. She and Bert had been . . . He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the images in his mind, but it didn’t help.

Naomi’s fingers pressed into Estelle’s neck for a moment. The entire room stood silent, waiting for what to do next. Each of them was ready to snap into action, but the sad frown on her face made Grant realize quickly that there was nothing to be done. He’d tried to hold out some hope, but the pale, unnatural color of Estelle’s skin beneath her heavy makeup had given away the truth. She’d been dead for quite a while, probably with Bert unknowingly asleep beside her.

“She’s gone.” Naomi tugged the blanket up to cover Estelle’s face. “Radio Sheriff Todd to send his boys down here and have him notify her daughter, Robin, as next of kin. Also, someone call Walter Hancock at the funeral home to come pick up the body.”

“I’ve killed her,” Bert said sadly from the doorway, shaking his head. “People kept telling me I should date again, that it would be good for me after Margaret died. I thought at worst I’d throw out my back or something. I never expected something like this.”

Mack went up to Bert and put a comforting arm on his shoulder. “You didn’t kill her, Bert. At her age, her weakened heart could’ve given out at any time. It’s not your fault.”

They ushered the distraught older man down the hallway and sat him in his recliner. Bert just shook his head. “It is my fault. I told her how good I was. She thought I was just bragging, but it was God’s honest truth. I never let a woman leave my bed unsatisfied. That just wasn’t the gentlemanly thing to do in my mind.”

Grant paused, his eyes growing wider as the man spoke. The lingerie and the vibrator were bad enough. He didn’t want to hear this.

He and Mack exchanged looks of mutual horror, but Bert kept right on talking.

“Estelle told me she’d only had two real orgasms in her forty years of marriage and she wanted to make up for lost time. She said she’d paid seven grand for me and she wanted me to earn every cent of it in bed. She didn’t want dinner or a ride around the lake in my boat. All she wanted was the best loving I could give her. I took that as a challenge and look what happened! She’s dead.”

Overwhelmed, Grant sunk down into a plastic-covered wingback chair and exhaled the breath he’d been holding.

At least she died happy.

Chapter Eleven

“We’ve been so busy today, I haven’t gotten to ask how your week off went,” Sarah said, balancing the cash drawer and going through the day’s receipts.

Pepper looked up at her, setting her broom aside. She’d just finished cleaning up her station after her last appointment. She had been quieter than usual today. Since her discussion with her mother Sunday afternoon, she’d found herself in a whirl of activity. She’d unpacked boxes, hung pictures, and put away things she didn’t even know she owned, they’d been boxed up so long. Anything and everything she could do to keep her mind from wandering down that dark path, the better. Once she was at the salon, she stocked shelves, cleaned, and even organized the magazines between clients.

Between that and the news of Estelle Townsend’s death throwing everyone for a loop, there hadn’t been much time to chat.

Pepper shrugged. “It was fine. I got a lot done. I need to do a few more things and then I can actually have company over.”

Sarah smiled. “That’s great, Pepper. I know you were worried about all that money going to the auction. Sounds like Grant is more handy than you thought.”

Oh, he was excellent with his hands, she thought. But “Yep” was all Pepper said. “He had the guys from the firehouse come help one morning, too. That was nice.”

Sarah slammed the cash register drawer shut and put the deposit in the locked envelope she dropped at the bank each evening. “And Valentine’s Day?” she pressed.

Pepper sighed. Her instinct was to dodge the topic of Grant, but she really couldn’t do that anymore. Whether or not her family approved and whether or not Grant’s father was a son of a bitch, they were dating. He’d asked and she’d accepted, so Grant was her boyfriend. That meant their relationship was out in the open now, consequences be damned.

“We went to Whittaker’s. After a long week, just the thought of driving to Birmingham was exhausting.”

“I bet.” Sarah picked up the envelope and grabbed her coat off the hook. “Are you about ready to close up? I’ve got to drop off this deposit and get to the Piggly Wiggly to get something to take over to Robin Townsend tonight.”

The obligatory food parade had already begun. Pepper needed to take over something, she just had no clue what. “Any idea what you’re bringing?”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe a pot of vegetable soup. The weather turned cold today and it’s supposed to stay pretty cold through the week. I thought something warm and comforting might be nice. Maybe chili since it’s chilly!” she said brightly.

“I was thinking a tray of deviled eggs. Or maybe a congealed salad that I can chill overnight and take over in the morning before the shop opens.”

“You’ve got time,” Sarah said. “The visitation is Wednesday afternoon and the service is Wednesday evening.”

“They pulled that together pretty quickly,” Pepper noted with a frown. She wasn’t expecting it to be until Thursday at the earliest.

“Well, Estelle probably had a prepaid plan put together when her husband died. If the plot and the casket and such were already taken care of, it’s just a matter of coordinating everything with the funeral home. And between you and me, Robin is probably keen to get through all this before the rumors start swirling about her mother and Bert.”

“That’s certainly not how you expect your elderly widowed mother to go, but I say good for her. Who wants to die in a rocking chair watching Wheel of Fortune?” Pepper grinned and turned off the back lights. She picked up her own coat and scarf, following Sarah out onto the sidewalk and waiting while she locked the door.

Sarah just laughed at Pepper, stopping when the roar of a motorcycle got near. “I think you have a visitor on his way.”

Pepper turned toward the direction of the echoing rumble and a moment later, Grant’s black-and-chrome Harley-Davidson rounded the corner and pulled up. “You can hear him coming from a mile away,” she said.

“Fair warning never hurts,” Sarah noted. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Pepper waved as Sarah got into her car and drove off toward the bank. She took a few steps toward the curb, pausing as Grant pulled off his helmet. “Hey there, Motorcycle Man.”

“Hey, yourself,” he said. His dark hair was messy from the helmet, but that just boosted his boyish charm by a few notches.

“What’s with the helmet?” she asked. “Don’t all the bad bikers wear the kind that just covers their head?” His wrapped all the way around, covering his face, too.

“A skull cap? No, that’s not for me. I’m too pretty to leave half this face on the asphalt. Care to go for a spin?”

“After that enticing visual?” Pepper winced. She wasn’t exactly born to be wild. “I think I’ll pass.”

“If you’ve had a day anything like mine, you need it. Leave your troubles on the road. Come on. It will be fun.”

Pepper had never been on a motorcycle before, but she didn’t think “fun” would be the first word to come to mind. “I don’t have a helmet.”

Grant leaned down and unsnapped one of his leather saddlebags. He pulled out a shiny black helmet like his, only with green flames wrapping around it. “I got this for you.”

She looked suspiciously at the helmet. “For me? How do you even know what size I wear?”

“I measured your head while you were asleep.”

“What?” Pepper choked, her eyes widening.

“I’m kidding,” Grant said with a wry grin. “I guessed, but I’m pretty sure I nailed it. Try it on and see.” He killed the engine and lowered the kickstand before getting off. “Hold still,” he said.

Pepper held as still as she could while Grant tugged the helmet on. Her hair was going to be an absolute wreck. The helmet was tight, but not too tight, and wrapped all the way around her face with a visor that slipped down to protect her eyes. Apparently he thought she was too pretty to leave half her face on the street, too.

Grant fastened the strap under her chin. “Shake your head around. Does it slide or move on your head?”

“No.”

“Does it feel like a vise is crushing your skull?”

“No.” Pepper laughed.

“Then it’s perfect, just as I thought. Come on.” Grant took her by the hand and led her to the bike. He helped her get seated on the back and then climbed on in front of her. “Wrap your arms around my waist,” he said. “Hold on tight.”

Pepper clung nervously to him as he fired up the chopper again and pulled out into the street. They roared through the square and turned onto the street that headed out of town. By the time they reached the narrow, winding road that would intersect with the highway, she was finally able to relax.

The sun was starting to set, the sky a gold and purple mix of clouds and atmosphere. There were no other vehicles on the road. The wind was exhilarating, blowing her hair behind her, while the visor protected her face. It didn’t take long for her to understand why Grant enjoyed this. It was soothing. The vibration of the bike, the scenery blowing by, the total freedom of roaring down the road without anything between you and life . . .

She took a deep breath and leaned in to rest her chin on Grant’s shoulder. They road about twenty minutes that way, finally coming to a stop at a little restaurant along the highway she’d never heard of before. The gravel parking lot had half a dozen other motorcycles and as many trucks.

“The Greasy Skillet?” she said after pulling off her helmet and shaking her hair around. “Sounds appetizing.”

Grant climbed off the bike and then held out his hand to help her hop off. “Don’t be scared. This place has amazing food. Bertha does it up right.”

“Then why didn’t we come here for Valentine’s Day?”

He twisted his lips in thought, then wrinkled his nose. “While the food is amazing, it doesn’t exactly have the romantic atmosphere I was aiming for. You’ll see what I mean.”

Grant took her hand and led her across the gravel and dirt lot to the front door. He held it open for her, letting her step inside the Greasy Skillet first.

As he’d said, the décor left something to be desired. It had plaster walls covered in old pictures and highway memorabilia. The tables were all freestanding with plastic over the top. The chairs were metal and screeched across the worn linoleum floor every time someone moved. It was clean, but not fancy, and that was fine with her. This was what she grew up with. Well, aside from the room full of bikers and country boys all with their eyes glued to her.

“Pick a table,” Grant said. “There’s no hostess.”

Pepper opted for a table in the back corner. Grant plucked the laminated menus out of the holder and handed her one. Standard country fare—fried chicken, country fried steak smothered in gravy, fried catfish, macaroni and cheese, turnip greens, fried okra, biscuits . . . the kind of food that would stick to your ribs, and your ass, but you’d enjoy every bite.

A teenage girl came out of the kitchen to take their drink orders, then vanished again. Two tall glasses of sweet tea and a basket of fresh-from-the-fryer hush puppies materialized moments later and she took their order. Grant got the country fried steak and Pepper went with the pork chops, both agreeing that they would leave room to split a piece of lemon icebox pie for dessert.

“I know why my day sucked,” Grant said once they were alone. “Judging by the pinched look on your face, I’d say you’re in the same boat.”

Pepper shrugged. “Same ol’, same ol’. You go first. What happened to you today? Oh wait . . .” she paused. “Did you find Estelle?”

Grant winced and nodded. “Yeah. Dealing with death is never fun, especially here in Rosewood where everyone knows everyone. Somehow in Birmingham it was easier. There were more fires, more accidents, more dead bodies, but I didn’t know them, so I could just do my job and not take it home with me. Most of the time. But finding Estelle? She made the dinosaur cake for my fifth birthday. I just didn’t need to see her like that.”

“See her like that? I thought I heard it was a heart attack.”

“Without sharing any details, I’ll just say that there are some things seen that cannot be unseen.”

“Her and Bert, huh?”

“Yes. What about you? You’ve seemed a little . . . off . . . since Sunday morning. Are you regretting dating me so soon?” he smiled, trying to ease the tension.

“No, not at all.” Pepper had been dreading this discussion since the moment she learned the truth about her mother and Norman Chamberlain. There was so much more to the story than she ever expected. It had shaken her. Her mother had been deliberately vague about the details of her pregnancy, leaving Pepper to wonder if she’d had the baby and given it away, or ended the pregnancy. If the baby was adopted, that meant she had a brother or sister out in the world. It made her wonder what else she didn’t know about.

But the hardest part was not being able to talk about it with anyone. She couldn’t tell Grant what was really behind their families’ differences. Instead, she reached across the table and took his hand. “I’m perfectly content with my decision.”

“Then let me guess,” he offered as his thumb stroked over her skin. “It’s your mother.”

Pepper opened her mouth to argue, but it was the truth. Perhaps a part of the story would be enough to get her through their impromptu dinner. “Forget my mother,” she said dismissively. “Her beef with your family has nothing to do with either of us. I’ll date whomever I want to date. I’m tired of her prejudices coloring my opinions.”

Grant frowned. “I don’t want to cause friction in your family.”

“Unfortunately, Chamberlains breathing is enough to irritate my mother and brother. Nothing will make them happy, but I’m hoping in time, they’ll change their mind. If you and I . . .” Her voice trailed off. Even though they were dating, she had a hard time speaking about their relationship in a long-term context. Would that scare him off? Make her sound more invested than she was? “I think once they get to know you,” she corrected, “they will realize they’ve misjudged you. You’re not your father.”

“Thank God for that,” Grant said.

Pepper’s gaze flicked up to meet his. She hadn’t expected that response. It was one thing for her mother to have issues with Norman, but she never expected his own son to feel that way. “Do you two not get along?”

Grant straightened up and looked over her shoulder. His line of sight shifted until she realized that the waitress was bringing their dinner. He pulled his hand away from her and the conversation was put on hold as their platters of fried, flavorful meals were presented.

“My father and I get along fine,” Grant replied once the waitress left. “I just don’t agree with some of the choices he’s made in his life. I don’t exactly hold him up as a shining example of who I want to be someday.”

“Why?” Pepper asked. She knew his father wasn’t quite the upstanding citizen he liked to portray, but did Grant know more about Norman’s escapades than she expected? “What did he do?”

Grant just shook his head and pointed at her plate with his fork. “Don’t let your food get cold. It’s best when it’s piping hot from the kitchen.”

Tuesday afternoon, the chime of his front door startled Logan out of a rousing game of Candy Crush Saga. He leapt up from his desk to greet the woman standing in his lobby.

“Hello. How can I help you?”

The woman was middle-aged, in her forties but in tip-top physical shape. She had nicely styled dark brown hair, brown eyes, and a few more wrinkles than she probably would’ve liked. There was a wariness in her eyes that made him think she wasn’t just here for estate planning. He’d held a workshop at the senior center that had brought in a few clients, but she was too young for Thursday afternoon bingo. A quick glance at her hand showed a gold wedding band. Perhaps a divorce?

“My name is Jeanette Kincaid. I’d heard you’d opened a practice here in town and I’m afraid I may need to retain an attorney.”

Logan took a deep breath and smiled. “Okay, Mrs. Kincaid. Let’s go back to my office and you can tell me about your situation. My first consultation is free.”

He saw to it that she was settled comfortably in his guest chair before he sat down at his desk. “What sort of legal services are you interested in, Mrs. Kincaid?”

“I’m not sure if you do this kind of thing, but I, uh, need someone to represent my husband in a criminal matter.”

Criminal matter? He didn’t get many of those. Depending on what it was, it might be better left to one of the bigger firms in Birmingham or Gadsden. “I can handle some criminal cases, but it really depends on what the charges are. Can you tell me what kind of criminal matter your husband is facing?”

Jeanette nodded nervously and looked down into her purse. “My husband, Pat, hasn’t been charged with anything yet, but the police have come by the house to question him. He insists he’s innocent and doesn’t need an attorney, but I would feel better if he had counsel. If he said or did the wrong thing, they could pin this whole mess on him and I know he’s innocent. We’ve been married twenty-five years come this summer and I know him better than anyone else. He is not a pervert.”

Logan swallowed hard and pulled out a pad of paper to take notes. “What exactly were they questioning your husband about, Mrs. Kincaid?”

“They think he’s the Rosewood Peeper,” she said with dismay.

He tried not to stiffen too obviously in his seat. The people in Rosewood had gotten quite wound up about the peeper. If word got out that Pat Kincaid was a suspect, they’d have him strung up in the square before Logan could do anything about it.

“Why do they suspect your husband?”

“I don’t know. They wouldn’t say. But they did ask my husband a lot of questions about his work boots; where he ordered them, what size he wore, could they see them? He handed those shoes over without hesitation.” Jeanette frowned. “That was stupid of him. I watch enough Law and Order to know that was a bad idea. He should’ve waited for a warrant or subpoena or something. He’s so convinced that his innocence will be proven, he’s making dumb mistakes.”

Shoes? Logan remembered hearing a footprint had been found outside one of the windows where the peeper was reported. They probably wanted to compare treads, but to trace the shoe to Pat initially, they must’ve identified the type of shoe as one carried at the local shoe store, Good Soles. If they searched their records for that style and size and came up with Pat’s order, that might have brought the police to their door without any evidence.

“Does your husband have an alibi? Were you with him on any of the nights the peeper struck?”

Jeanette got quiet then. He knew instantly that she wasn’t with her husband. Any officer worth his salt would’ve come to the same conclusion if they asked her that question as well. That was troubling from a defense standpoint. If he wasn’t home, how could she possibly know it wasn’t him?

“No,” she admitted at last. “I’m not certain of every date, but on the night they asked about specifically, I wasn’t with him.”

“Even though you weren’t with him, do you know where Mr. Kincaid was that night?”

“He told me he had to work late,” she said.

Logan noted that she answered the question without really answering it. Just because he said he was at work doesn’t mean that’s where he was. And judging by Mrs. Kincaid’s demeanor, she didn’t believe his story.

“Does your husband work in the evenings a lot?”

“Every now and then. He’s the manager at the Piggly Wiggly. Usually he works the day shift, but over the last few months there have been a lot of evenings where he’s had to stay until nine or ten at night.”

That would be something the records at the store could prove or disprove. Of course, if he was the manager, Pat could make sure the records said whatever he wanted them to say.

“Mrs. Kincaid, do you have any reason to believe that your husband wasn’t where he said he was on those nights he worked late?”

There was an initial flash of panic in her eyes, but it quickly faded. Her lips tightened into a flat line and she shook her head a little too adamantly. “My husband wouldn’t lie to me. If he said he was working, he was working. But either way, he’s not the peeper. That’s the most important thing you need to know. Are you willing to represent him?”

Logan sat back in his chair and considered his options. This could end up being a high-profile case, at least in Rosewood terms. It could bring a lot of publicity, both good and bad, to his tiny firm. He could make an ass of himself publicly if he botched this. And even if he did a flawless job and Pat was acquitted, there would be people in town who would still think he was guilty and would blame Logan for getting him off.

At the same time, it could all go well and he could really make a name for himself as an attorney in Rosewood. It would sure be sweet to see Norman Chamberlain knocked down a peg or two.

Before he agreed to anything, he wanted to talk to Pat. He got the feeling his wife wasn’t telling Logan everything. The question was whether it was because she was hiding the truth to protect her husband, or because she didn’t know the whole story.

“Mrs. Kincaid, why isn’t your husband here to speak to me about this?”

“Like I said, he doesn’t think he needs an attorney. Old fool. I came here without telling him because I know, I just know, that they’re going to arrest him. It would be a huge mistake, but I know Sheriff Todd is under a lot of pressure to catch this guy.”

“Well, I have to admit I’m intrigued, and inclined to take your case. But before I do, I really need to speak with your husband.” The Piggly Wiggly was only a block away from his office, so there was no reason why he couldn’t come by after work. “If you could get Mr. Kincaid to come by here tonight when he gets off work, I’d be happy to chat with him. You can rest assured that if he needs an attorney, I’ll see to it he gets one, even if he’s resistant to the idea.”

Jeanette breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll do that. Thanks so much, Mr. Anthony.” She stood up and Logan escorted her out of his office and down the hallway to the lobby.

Once she slipped out the front door, Logan decided to make a field trip to the Rosewood Library. The library archived every copy of the Rosewood Times and each incident of the peeper was likely reported in the paper. After that, he’d follow up with Clark Newton to see if there was anything he heard about that didn’t make it into the periodical.

Logan wanted to compile a list of dates and locations to see if there was a date for which they could exclude Pat Kincaid as a possible suspect. He technically wasn’t the man’s attorney yet, but Logan already knew which side he was leaning toward. Playing Candy Crush Saga wasn’t going to build his law firm. Being bold would.

And potentially representing the Rosewood Peeper was a make-or-break type of case that rarely popped up in a little town like this one.

Chapter Twelve

There was a lot to be said for the excitement of a southern wedding, but there was nothing like a southern funeral.

Grant would never understand it, even though he’d lived in the South his whole life. Over the years, he’d attended his share of funerals. He’d watched his mother fret over what she was going to wear (Hint: the answer was something black) and what she was going to take to the family. It wasn’t just a simple matter of ordering a floral spray and dusting off the “marry and bury” suit in the back of your closet. Well, it might be for the men. For the women, it was a major event that started the minute the body was rolled out of the house.

Grant could just imagine the chaos going on in the kitchen of the mansion he grew up in. Cookie would be spun up, not only to make a dish for the family, but because his mother would’ve pushed her way in to make something when she normally stayed far, far from the kitchen.

Grant had no doubt that Robin Townsend was already the recipient of more casseroles and buckets of fried chicken than she could ever eat. It was southern tradition to feed the grieving, and feed they did. When Grant’s grandfather died, Cookie and Winston, the butler, tag-teamed the door as every family in town came by to bring food and pay their respects. There wasn’t a square inch of space in the freezer or refrigerator. Every available spot on the counters were covered in platters with cakes, cookies, chess squares, lemon bars . . .

Grant didn’t know much about Estelle’s daughter, but he thought bringing her baked goods was probably a bad idea considering her mother owned the bakery. Nothing like rubbing her dead mother’s memory in her face.

When he arrived at Hancock’s Funeral Home for the visitation, the place was buzzing with activity. The parking lot was filled with cars and the traffic had actually spilled out into the Piggly Wiggly parking lot next door. Grant opted to park there so he could make an easier getaway when the time came.

As he rounded the building, Grant noticed the Petal Pushers’ van parked out back. Miss Francine was directing the unloading of floral arrangements that would decorate the room with the body and blanket the casket.

Grant hated the visitation, but everyone had to attend, especially since he wouldn’t be going to the funeral. There were no excuses unless you were on the verge of having your own visitation. The guys at the firehouse would even take turns going down and watching the station so everyone could pay their respects. If given the choice, Grant would volunteer to watch it alone so everyone could go, but no dice. He was directed to go, then come back so Mack could go.

Stepping inside the funeral home, Grant signed the condolence register and queued up with everyone else. The doors to the visitation room were still closed, which meant the family was in with the body getting their first glimpse of the deceased. If there was going to be wailing and bodies thrown across the casket, now was the most appropriate time.

Fortunately, the room remained blessedly silent. It wasn’t long until the doors opened and people slowly started filing inside. Grant stuffed tissues in his pockets to distribute to the ladies, as needed, and moved forward.

He prayed for a closed casket, but he knew he wouldn’t get it. Open caskets made him uncomfortable as a child and it hadn’t changed much now that he was an adult. Part of him always expected the body to sit up and lunge for him like in some old horror movie. It didn’t matter how good a job Mr. Hancock did on makeup for the body, or how lifelike everyone declared her to be, to him it still looked like a coat of spray paint on a corpse.

Traditionally, the line to pay your respects to the family went right by the casket, so there was no avoiding it.

“Did you hear how she passed?”

Grant looked up to see two older ladies standing in front of him. Both were wearing large-brimmed hats, blocking their faces. He quickly turned to study his shoes, not wanting to get drawn into the conversation, but it was very difficult not to overhear it. The lady in the dark blue pantsuit was whispering very loudly.

“No, I hadn’t,” the woman in the black dress replied. “How?”

He knew the rumors would fly fast and furious. No one on the Fire and Rescue squad would breathe a word about what they saw, but it would get out anyway. The driver at the funeral home would see something when he picked up the body, like a giant pink dildo, and tell someone in strict confidence. The neighbors across the street would see Estelle’s body rolled out of Bert’s house in the early-morning hours. That’s all it would take for the news to spread like wildfire. Whatever details they didn’t have, gossip would happily fill in.

“I heard Bert killed her with sex.”

Like that.

“Dotty! You can’t be serious. Admit it, you’re telling me a tall one.”

Ahh. That explained it. That was Miss Dotty standing in front of him. Dollars to doughnuts it was Miss Vera she was talking to: the strong scent of Chanel No. 5, her trademark perfume, and aerosol hair spray hung in the air around him. The gears of gossip turned quickly in Rosewood, and Dotty and Vera were the conductors of the train. He had no doubt Miss Francine would hop on board as soon as she finished with the flowers.

“No, it’s true,” Miss Dotty insisted. “Her Oldsmobile had been parked in his driveway all night and her son just picked it up this morning. Jasper Daniels saw it. He also saw her body get rolled out of Bert’s house early Monday morning. Rumor is that he gave it to her so good her heart just gave out. Can you imagine?”

“Sweet Jesus,” Miss Vera muttered, bringing a gloved hand to her mouth. “I certainly could. I remember Margaret complaining when she first got married about what a machine Bert was. She couldn’t finish a sink of dishes without him interrupting her for sex. It sounds like he hasn’t lost his touch over the decades.”

Grant closed his eyes and wished to be struck by temporary nerve deafness.

“I should’ve bid higher at the auction,” Miss Vera complained, “but I knew Estelle would pay any price just to get back at me. I let her waste her money. Turns out she didn’t need it much longer anyway.”

“What was all that between you two?” Miss Dotty asked.

“Well, to be honest, I stole Herman from Estelle during our senior year in high school. I don’t know why she was still so upset over it, it was over forty years ago. Clyde was a much better match for her than Herman, anyway. We’ve never been friendly, but I didn’t realize she still carried so much animosity toward me until that night.”

“Well, she won,” Miss Dotty said. “And lost at the same time.”

“At the very least, I hope she got to work out some of that aggression with Bert before she died. Lord, I hope her daughter hasn’t heard all the rumors. I’d hate for one of my kids to hear that about me, even if it was true.”

“You’re just lucky it wasn’t you, Vera. You could’ve just as easily won the auction.”

“Yes, but my heart is fine. He wouldn’t kill me with pleasure.” Grant heard her make a thoughtful humming sound. “He could sure try, though.”

“Vera! He’s right over there.” Miss Dotty pointed over to the small seating area where Bert and several other men were congregating. “What if he hears you?”

“So what?” Miss Vera eyed Bert for a moment too long. “I made it clear I was interested in him at the auction, it’s no secret. Look, there’s Francine!”

Grant turned in time to see Miss Francine come down the line from the visitation room and meet up with her partners in crime.

“I finally got the flowers situated inside. I’m near outta breath.” Miss Francine ran her hand over her immaculately styled red-gold hair. “There were quite a few arrangements for this one. I’m pleased.”

Dotty chuckled. “Not as pleased as Vera is.”

“The body is barely cold,” Miss Francine muttered, looking at Miss Vera with a sour expression drawing down her withered lips.

“It’s not like Bert and Estelle were serious. At the most, they were together a week. What do you say the proper waiting period is for something like this?”

Grant heard Miss Francine groan and he felt the same way. He wished this line would move faster. Hopefully once they reached the room with the family, this discussion would stop.

“I don’t think Emily Post covered that topic in her etiquette books.”

Saved at last, Blake and Simon arrived and joined him in line. “Thank God you’re here,” Grant said.

“Afraid of seeing a dead body alone?” Simon taunted.

“I’ve seen it. I responded to the call. I just need a distraction,” he said, gesturing discreetly to the trio of women in front of them.

Blake briefly eyeballed the hens and nodded. “Everyone is talking about it. Even the ladies in the administration office this morning were going on about the salacious details.”

Simon sighed. “I’m sorry someone had to die, but I’m thankful to have everyone talking about something else for a change. I’m tired of discussing the peeper case and how we haven’t caught him yet. People seem to think we should just be randomly arresting people.”

“Any breaks?” Grant asked.

Simon’s jaw tightened and he shook his head. It looked like a no, but he could tell it was a yes, but I can’t tell you that. Grant opted not to push the line of conversation since they were finally entering the visitation room.

Estelle’s pearly-white coffin came into view at the far end of the room. The lower portion was closed and covered in a spray of pink and yellow carnations. Estelle’s family was gathered around it. Her oldest child, Robin, was unmarried and standing by herself just before the casket. Just past it was Robin’s brother and his wife with a restless four-year-old, but the feet between them could’ve been miles. Both her children were totally focused on the people coming in, not looking or even acknowledging each other. Apparently the familial battle over Estelle’s things had already begun.

There were still about fifteen people ahead of them, so the brothers waited quietly for their turn. That’s when Grant saw Miss Francine lean over to Miss Vera and mutter under her breath, “. . . too cheap for roses . . . Perhaps if she hadn’t paid seven grand to get laid, they could afford a proper casket cover.”

Grant winced and tried to focus on admiring the floral arrangements lining the wall. He nudged Blake when he came across one from their family. “These are ours,” he said. The large standing spray had white roses and lilies with a white bow. It was pretty enough. He wasn’t much of a connoisseur of flowers.

“As much as I complain about the Chamberlains, at least they paid for a respectable spray,” Miss Francine continued as though three of them weren’t directly behind her. “It’s pretty sad when strangers are willing to pay more than the deceased’s own family.”

“Francine!” Miss Vera chastised in a hoarse whisper.

“It’s true. It’s Robin’s doing, I’m sure of it. Estelle bought a nice rose casket cover when Clyde died. Her daughter is just going through the motions, trying to squeeze every penny she can out of this. I bet you they have that bakery up for sale by the end of the week. Robin doesn’t want anything to do with it and neither does her brother. They just want the money. Once she gets it, I bet she’ll leave this town for good. You just wait.”

That was something Grant hadn’t considered. His sister Maddie was Estelle’s only employee. The shop had been closed since Estelle’s death, but if it didn’t reopen, what would Maddie do? She’d just bought a house downtown near the bakery. She’d have to move back home if she didn’t pick up another baking job. The only other option in Rosewood was the grocery store bakery. Maddie would never, ever stand for that. She was French-trained and too good for the Piggly Wiggly, at least in her own eyes.

“Maybe the Chamberlains will buy it and let their oldest girl run it. You know I hate to speak ill of the dead, but Maddie bakes a better lemon cake than Estelle ever did, bless her heart.”

Moving up, Vera, Dotty, and Francine approached Robin, and a moment later, Grant and his brothers reached the family. He focused on giving his condolences to Robin, stopping by the body only long enough to keep from blocking someone taking a picture of Estelle. Once they were done, he moved quickly to her brother. They circled around the room and back out the door into the lobby. There, Grant took a relieved breath and started tugging down his tie.

“Are you going to the funeral?” Blake asked once they stepped out into the parking lot.

“No. I’ll be working until six.”

“Lucky bastard,” Simon groaned. Apparently this was his day off and he had no excuses.

“Quit complaining. The service will be short and when it’s over, they’re having a dinner at First Baptist. You’ll have enough fried chicken and banana pudding to make up for it.”

Blake slapped Simon on the back. “The banana pudding is worth it. I hear Miss Vera is baking a batch from scratch. Based on what I just overheard, it seems like more of a celebratory gesture than a sympathetic one.”

“I’m headed back to the firehouse to get out of this suit and let Mack come over here.”

“Okay,” Blake said. “Can I call you later or will you be with Pepper?”

Grant didn’t know where he would be. After spending nearly every moment of the previous week together, their return to work and new relationship navigation had everything up in the air. “I don’t know. Just call. If I can’t answer,” he said with a smile, “I won’t.”

“I think Reverend Yates just broke a record for the shortest service in history.”

Pepper turned to Ivy and tried not to smile. It didn’t seem appropriate since the pallbearers were carrying Estelle’s casket past them and out to the hearse. Aside from that, she was happy that Ivy was still in Rosewood and was able to attend this with her. She wasn’t ready to sit next to her family and pretend like things hadn’t changed. There was no way she could sit with her parents and her brother and not spend every moment thinking about what her mother had told her.

Norman Chamberlain was sitting a few pews ahead of them with Helen, Simon, Maddie, and Hazel. She could only see the back of his head, but his cruel expression as he turned away and the conversation she’d had with her mother came easily to mind. She’d lain in bed Sunday night, not enjoying her fully functional bedroom but mentally envisioning the whole argument her mother had with him. She could picture the smug look on his face as he offered her mother a check and told her and their unborn child to get lost.

At the moment, she had a hard time looking at any of the Chamberlains without dark thoughts clouding her mind. Even Blake and Grant, two Chamberlains she’d learned to not only tolerate but like, were hard for her to talk to. Suddenly being around the man she’d gotten close to the last few weeks had become infinitely more difficult. Grant valued honesty over all else, but she couldn’t tell him about this. She couldn’t tell Ivy. She couldn’t even tell Logan.

Reverend Yates asked the congregation to join him in singing Estelle’s favorite hymn, “How Great Thou Art,” as the family shuffled sadly out of the chapel. Robin was tearful, clutching a tissue to her face. Her brother, Tom, held his toddler with a stoic expression. They went out and loaded into the limousine.

“Yep,” Ivy said as the hymn ended and everyone stood to leave. “Twenty-three minutes.”

“He’s probably hungry.” Pepper looked down at her watch. It was just after five in the evening. By the time the graveside service was over, it would be time for Reverend Yates to eat, take his pills, and head home to watch his favorite game shows before bed. Just knowing there was a feast of massive proportions in the little church by the cemetery was enough to make most southern men talk a little bit faster than usual.

“I’m hungry, too. I didn’t eat all day in anticipation of the macaroni and cheese,” Pepper said as they shuffled out of the funeral home with the rest of the congregation. She slipped on her lined raincoat and popped open her umbrella the minute they cleared the protective awning. The herd moved out and across the street, gathering around the tent that protected the gravesite and the family from the elements.

It was a miserable day for a funeral. It had rained on and off for the last few days with temperatures never getting out of the high forties. The sky was a blanket of gray, with the sun nowhere in sight. There was only a light breeze, but it was still enough to fling icy raindrops sideways and for the chill to sink in.

Once everyone arrived and the family was seated, Reverend Yates started the service again. Considering it was dinnertime and the weather was poor, the pastor wasn’t likely to get a good sermon rolling.

As he spoke, Pepper’s gaze strayed over the crowd. Her parents and brother were standing off to her left. Her father probably wasn’t strong enough to come to something like this, especially in this weather, but he was also stubborn. Logan was holding their father’s elbow with a tight grip to ensure he didn’t lose his footing on the lawn.

Just beyond them were the Chamberlains. Pepper wondered if Logan knew they were standing right behind him. He wasn’t uncouth enough to say something at a funeral, but she knew there had to be animosity growing between them since he opened his practice. He’d probably like to know if the old snake was nearby.

When Reverend Yates asked everyone to bow their head in prayer, she noticed that both Logan and Norman dipped their heads in just the same way. Their profiles were damn-near identical when you looked at them side by side. They had the same blue eyes, the same narrow nose, the same heavy brow, the same strong, square jaw. They were even almost the same height, with Logan just barely taller.

She’d never noticed it before, but her brother had almost never been in the same room as Norman. Curious, her gaze flicked over to Blake where he stood beside Ivy. Comparing the two men, there was a resemblance there as well. Blake and Logan had the same hair color; a light brown with blond highlights from the sun. Norman’s hair was more gray than brown now, but his hair was just as thick with a hairline that had only slipped a few centimeters back from where it fell on Blake.

Pepper felt her stomach turn. She searched Logan’s face, desperate to find differences between the two men. The full lips, the small, rounded ears . . . those were features Pepper shared with her brother. Features they shared with their mother. Glancing at their father, Vince, she tried to find resemblances there. Her father was shorter than Logan, with a slighter build. His nose was broad, his hair a darker brown.

The more she studied, the more painfully obvious it became that Logan looked very little like their father. Nothing at all like him, actually.

Her mother said she did what she had to do when Norman turned her away. Pepper had thought maybe she had given up the baby or terminated the pregnancy. It never once occurred to her that her mother had kept the baby and raised it as another man’s child.

“Amen,” everyone said aloud, reminding Pepper that she’d forgotten to pray.

Her mind was someplace else. The truth was all too obvious now. Logan was Norman Chamberlain’s son. She was certain of it. The bigger question in her mind was if her father knew. Did her mother throw herself in desperation at any man she could, pass off the child as his, and convince him to marry her? Daddy loved both her and Logan so much. It would kill him to know his son wasn’t his own blood. Could her mother really have lied to everyone like that?

Someone starting singing “Amazing Grace.” Pepper had a vague recollection of the voice in the background, but that was all. All she could see was her daddy holding on to his son’s arm with misty tears in his eyes.

Shaking her head, Pepper turned and her gaze locked with her mother’s. Without the slightest gesture or word, she saw her mother stiffen and visibly pale. Pepper nodded. She wanted her mother to know that she knew the truth.

Please, she mouthed silently.

Pepper could only turn away. Shifting her umbrella, she stared down at the ground and hoped she could just make it all go away. She gazed long and hard at the soggy brown turf, but it didn’t seem to help.

“Pepper?”

She snapped her head in the direction of the sound and found Ivy looking at her with a quizzical expression on her face. “What?”

“Are you okay?” she asked with a crinkled nose.

No, definitely not okay, but she couldn’t tell her that. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” Apparently she was thinking hard enough not to notice that the service had ended and everyone was making their way over to the church.

“Okay,” Ivy said, although there was a touch of disbelief on her face. “Are you going to come to the church to eat with us?”

That had been the plan initially, but suddenly she needed to get far away from here. Far from her lying mother, her ignorant father, and the smug face of the man who caused it all. If she stayed, she would say or do something she would regret. That wasn’t how she wanted to honor Estelle’s memory.

“Actually, I think I’m going to skip it and head home. I’m pretty tired.”

Ivy watched her with concern for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.” She leaned forward to hug Pepper. “I’ll see you later. I’ll come by the shop tomorrow. I leave first thing Friday morning.”

Pepper tried to give the friendliest nod she could and waved as Ivy and Blake disappeared into the Fellowship Hall with everyone else. Before anyone could talk to her, she bolted in the other direction, back toward the funeral home and her car. She needed some wine and a brownie and some time to process everything she’d just learned. Nothing would ever be the same again.

Her brother was a Chamberlain.

Chapter Thirteen

After an hour of mindless television and two stiff drinks, Pepper had finally achieved the mental numbness she desired. When she left the funeral, she’d gone home in the hopes of burying her head in the sand for a while. The whole town was at the church dinner, then probably staying on for Bible study since it was Wednesday night, so she anticipated a peaceful evening where she could process everything she’d pieced together this afternoon.

She had a sibling who was half Chamberlain. Realizing that had nearly knocked her off her feet. Everything she knew about her childhood, her brother, her father . . . now it was all tinged with the color of deception.

She was taking her last sip of coconut rum and Sprite when the doorbell rang. With a sigh, she got up from the couch and looked through the peephole. The only person she expected to see was Grant, straight from the end of his long shift, but she was disappointed. It was her mother.

Pepper swung open the door and stood there, a stiff barrier to the house. She wasn’t really interested in talking about this tonight. She didn’t have nearly enough rum. “Mother,” she said, acknowledging her mother with a cold tone.

Kate was standing alone on the porch, clutching a piece of cake wrapped in plastic wrap. “Hi, Pepper. I brought you a piece of cake.”

She didn’t really feel like cake of any kind, but she accepted the plate anyway. “Thanks. Where’s Daddy?”

“Logan took him home about halfway through the dinner. He got tired standing at the service for so long. I needed to stop at the grocery store, so they went on without me.”

“The Pig is three blocks that way,” she said, pointing down the street.

“Pepper, we need to talk,” she said.

Pepper snorted and shook her head. “I’m not the one you need to talk to, Mama. I already know too much for my own good. Logan is the one who needs to know the truth.”

Kate swallowed hard. “Can I please come in?”

As much as she didn’t want to, Pepper stepped back and let her mother into the house for the first time.

Kate stepped in slowly, looking around the space with a small smile curling her lips. “Your house looks lovely. I love the warm color on the walls and the artwork is perfect. I can tell you’ve put a lot of hard work into the place.”

“I have Grant to thank for most of it,” Pepper said, knowing that answer would just antagonize her mother.

Kate lowered herself onto the couch with a sigh and patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down, please.”

Pepper reluctantly did what she was told, keeping a full cushion’s distance between them. She faced her mother, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Somehow that protective pose made this discussion more palatable.

“Today at the funeral,” Kate began. “It became apparent to me that you’ve pieced together the rest of my story.”

Pepper nodded. “Is Logan really the child you were talking about on Sunday?”

Kate’s dark eyes, the same as her own, looked at her for a moment before sadly nodding. “Yes. Your brother is half Chamberlain, genetically. But,” she added, “he is nothing like that miserable family.”

“Stop it, Mama,” Pepper snapped. She was sick of her mother hating on the Chamberlains. It was bad enough she’d let her mother poison her entire outlook on the family, but now that she knew better, she didn’t want to listen to it anymore. “You’ve got issues with Norman, obviously, but stop lumping the whole family into the same bucket. If Logan is a Chamberlain, you’re insulting him every time you say it, and he doesn’t even know it. When he finds out the truth, how will all the awful things you say about them affect him? Will he think you hate him because he’s part Chamberlain?”

Kate’s mouth dropped open. “Of course I don’t hate my son. That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Well, that’s what you’re insinuating and you’re wrong. Grant is a good person. So is Blake. I don’t know the whole family, but it feels like you taught us to hate them our whole lives for no real reason.”

“That’s not true, I had several reasons. For one thing, I had to raise Logan to hate that family or he would get too close to the truth. What if he and Blake hung out together and someone noticed a resemblance like you did? Or worse, what if he wanted to date one of the Chamberlain girls? I couldn’t have this turn into a V. C. Andrews book.”

“And me?”

“And you had to stay away so you wouldn’t make the same mistakes I made. Whether or not those boys are as heartless as their father, they still have his sex drive. You can’t tell me that they haven’t made their rounds through this town. I thought it was better for you, healthier for you, to stay out of all that. I know they’re charming men, with those big blue eyes and strong hands. They smile and say soft words and you feel your knees give out beneath you. But they don’t mean any of it.

“When Norman rejected me,” Kate continued, “I wasn’t just upset, I was broken. I had no self-esteem. I was convinced that I was ugly and fat and no one would ever love me. I didn’t even believe your father cared for me for a while. I thought he felt sorry for me. I didn’t want you to ever feel that way about yourself. You’re beautiful and talented and smart. I didn’t want their manipulative lies to destroy your self-confidence.”

“Speaking of Daddy and lies”—Pepper wanted to get off the current subject as quickly as possible—“what did you tell Daddy? Did you just seduce him and trick him into thinking Logan was his son?”

“No, of course not. You must really think badly of me after all this to say such a thing. Your father knows Logan isn’t his son. He’s always known.”

Pepper’s jaw dropped. Just when she thought she knew what was going on, she got hit with another bomb. Did that mean her father had lied to her, too? “What?”

“Your father had been in love with me since the eleventh grade. We’d gone out from time to time, but I didn’t let myself fall for him when I thought I could have Norman. He was away at college most of the time, but when he came home, he only had eyes for me. I want you to understand that it wasn’t some casual fling, Pepper. Norman and I wrote letters and talked on the phone while he was gone. We stole away to secluded corners of the lake with a picnic and made love in a field. I gave him my virginity because I thought he loved me. I was certain that once he graduated law school and came back to Rosewood that he would ask me to marry him. And then everything fell apart.”

“And you ran to Daddy once Norman was out of the picture for good?”

Her mother pressed her lips into a flat line of displeasure. “No. It wasn’t like that at all. Your father had always been a presence in my life. He was just there to help, to talk to. He was my best friend and that was all I saw in him because I was blinded by my love for Norman. I didn’t realize the depths of his feelings for me at first. After my fight with Norman, I ran to Vince in tears and confessed everything. I didn’t know what I was going to do.”

Kate shook her head as the memories of the moment replayed in her mind. “Vince held me in his arms and said that I was strong and I would get through this. He got down on one knee, right there at the gas station where he was working, and asked me to marry him. I thought he was crazy, but he told me that he loved me and wanted to do this for me. He insisted we could be happy together and that we would raise that child, and any other children that came along, as our own. No one ever needed to know any different.”

Pepper didn’t know what to say. In the last two weeks, her life had totally turned upside down. She’d hated the Chamberlains for so long. Now the waters were muddy, her own version of reality shifting the more she learned.

“I thought Norman loved me, but I learned what real love was when I agreed to marry your father. We eloped the next day. When your brother was born, Daddy held Logan in his arms and cried just the same way he did when you were born. Logan was his son; there was never any question of it for him. In that moment, I knew I’d made the right choice. We never had much, but it didn’t matter, because your father is a good man, probably a better man than I deserved. You and Logan couldn’t have asked for a better father. And as far as I’m concerned, I didn’t lie to you because Daddy is Logan’s father. He’s the one who taught him how to ride a bike and throw a ball; how to be a man and how to treat a lady.”

Pepper understood. Her father was an amazing man and she was a daddy’s girl at heart. She had never once had doubts about Logan’s paternity because their father had never given them any reason to doubt it. “Has Norman ever acknowledged in any way that Logan is his son? I mean, he obviously knows.”

Kate nodded. “Just once. I did my best to avoid him, especially when I had Logan with me. But one day, we were all at the Fourth of July picnic at the park. You were only a few months old at the time, and Logan was a rambunctious little boy, running all over the place. I had a hard time keeping up with both of you. At one point, I lost sight of Logan and I started to panic. A few minutes later, Norman walked up, holding Logan’s hand and he was covered in mud.

“Norman passed him off to me with the closest thing to a smile I’d seen from him in years. He told me he’d found Logan in a puddle with another little boy. He said that beneath all that dirt, he was a handsome child and that it must run in the family. Then he turned and walked off.”

Pepper couldn’t believe the man’s audacity. “What did you do?”

“I was shaken by the whole encounter, so I used my muddy child as an excuse to go home and I never went back. I was just so thrown off guard and Daddy had to work, so I was there alone. It was just easier to leave.”

“And he never spoke of or hinted about Logan’s paternity ever again?”

“That was it. It certainly made for an awkward parent conference when Logan broke Blake’s nose after school. I’m responsible for that, raising him to dislike the whole family, but I never expected him to get into a fight. It could’ve been so much worse. The one thing I can say is that Norman refused to make a big deal out of it. He could’ve gotten Logan suspended, but he talked the principal out of it. He said boys were boys, and once he got Logan and Blake to agree to stay away from one another, it was over and done.”

“What a saint,” Pepper muttered.

“No one is perfect, especially me. But I did what I had to do. I think both of my children have turned out well, in spite of everything.”

It was true. They had both grown up in a loving home. They might not have had all the latest and greatest clothes and toys, but they were happy and well-adjusted. Pepper credited her parents for that. They worked very hard to keep the roof over their heads and food in their bellies.

But that didn’t change the truth. Logan still needed to know that the arrogant lawyer he competed with was actually his biological father. “We did. But you’ve got to tell Logan, Mama.”

Her mother’s eyes widened. “No,” she said with a shake of her head. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because of your father. He took on another man’s child and raised it as his own. He’s a good man, and I won’t have him become the subject of town gossip or have Logan harbor any ill will toward him. You know how people are around here. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“But Logan deserves to know. Even if no one else ever finds out, he should know the truth.”

“What good will the truth do, Pepper? It will only hurt people, like it’s hurt you. I regret that I’ve had to keep these secrets, but I couldn’t risk Norman retaliating if the truth got out. If we were smart, we would’ve moved far from Rosewood and no one would’ve ever known the truth, but this was our home. I wasn’t going to be run off by the Chamberlains. In the end, things worked out the way they were meant to. I love Logan, and have since the moment I found out about him. I made the choices I had to make to protect him. I found the best father I could for you and Logan. You are both our children in every way that matters.”

“He can’t go on not knowing who he really is. Logan needs to know that his business rival is actually his father.”

“I can’t do it, Pepper. You just don’t understand how hard this is. I couldn’t even admit the truth to you until you figured it out for yourself.”

Pepper swallowed the lump in her throat. “You will, Mama. Or I will.”

Thursday night, as Grant prepared to head home from the firehouse, he found himself at a loss. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself in the evenings anymore. He’d spent so much time with Pepper that it felt odd to return home to his loft apartment and not see her. He missed her. He liked sleeping with her in his arms. He enjoyed waking up with Pepper and her crazy morning hair, and sharing a cup of coffee. And yet, he didn’t want to constantly show up at her place and make a pest of himself.

When he told her he’d never seriously dated anyone, he’d meant it. He wasn’t entirely sure how to handle things. He’d also never found himself in the position where he wanted to see a woman every day. He’d thought at first that he was just intrigued by her because she turned him down. Pepper had been a new challenge. But now that they were past that point in their relationship . . . he still wanted her. She wasn’t just beautiful and infuriating. She was smart and funny. She was adventurous enough to jump on his motorcycle and drive with no destination in mind, but cautious enough to temper any crazy, reckless thoughts that might run through his head, like popping a wheelie on the bike to show off.

Leaving the fire station, he went down to where he’d parked his truck: a 1986 Chevy Silverado. It was hardly a glamorous ride; older than Grant was, the silver and burgundy paint was fading, it had rusty spots, and the seats squeaked with every bump in the road. But, it did the job it was intended to do.

As a southern man, Grant was obligated to own a truck. Grant only drove it when the weather was bad or he needed to haul something around. Today, weather had made the choice. It had been a cold, wet few days—typical February weather for Alabama—and he’d had to park the bike for a while. Not even his waterproof leather gear could fight off the bone-chill that set in at higher speed.

Starting up the engine and cranking the heat, Grant turned toward Pepper’s house instead of his loft. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d be received, but he couldn’t help it, the truck just instinctively drove that way.

He and Pepper had parted awkwardly on Monday night. He hadn’t meant to clam up when the conversation strayed to his father, but he also hadn’t wanted to ruin dinner talking about him. It had been a splash of cold water on the evening and it never really recovered. He’d driven her back to her car and went home to sleep in his own bed, alone.

Since then, life in Rosewood had been taken up by Estelle’s funeral. They had texted back and forth a couple of times, but he hadn’t seen her since he dropped her off outside the salon. He didn’t know if that was a long time or not in a normal relationship, but to him, it felt like years.

This was something he’d never had before. Something he never thought he would have. At least, something he believed he was doomed to ruin, like his father had.

“I’m not my father,” Grant said silently to himself. If he wanted Pepper in his life, he could make this work. He needed to man up and take his life by the horns or he would end up one of those pathetic old bachelors who tries to pick up women in the bar and makes an ass of himself. Somehow that seemed even worse than becoming like his father.

His truck rolled to a stop outside Pepper’s house. Her red SUV was in the driveway and the lights were shining through her covered windows. He tapped at her front door, waiting anxiously until she answered.

The door swung open, revealing Pepper in a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and Ugg boots. She’d pulled her red curls back into a ponytail, looking casual, but cute. And she was smiling.

“You’re just in time,” she said cheerfully.

He was? “Good. Just in time for what?”

Pushing the door open, Pepper revealed her living room, which was scattered with various lengths and sizes of laminated particle board. “In time to help me put together my new entertainment center.”

“Of course,” he said with a chuckle as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “Lucky me.”

Pepper smiled and returned to her spot on the floor where she was reading the directions. In front of her was the start of the furniture—a set of three assembled cubes, one divided with a shelf for a Blu-ray player or DVR. “Grab yourself a beer from the fridge and join me.”

He grabbed a long-neck bottle from the fridge, slipped out of his coat, and sat down on the hardwood floor beside her.

He glanced over the instructions and handed her the piece labeled “F”. “How was your day?” he asked.

She shrugged, focused on attaching piece F to piece M with a wooden dowel. “It was a little slow today. After all the excitement of the auction and the funeral, things seem to have finally settled back down. How about you? Anything burn down?”

Grant held the wood so she could screw a number four screw into it. “Not today. It’s too cold and wet.”

The conversation lagged awkwardly for a few minutes as they worked on the shelf. This was what he was afraid of. She wasn’t her normal, chatty self. She didn’t greet him with a hug or a kiss. Pepper could be preoccupied, but odds were, he’d screwed up on Monday.

“Listen,” he said, setting aside the screwdriver. “I wanted to apologize for Monday night.”

Pepper looked at him with her brow furrowed in confusion. “Apologize for what?”

Grant mirrored her look of befuddlement. She didn’t even remember what happened, so she wasn’t mad at him. And yet, there was a distance between them that wasn’t there before. “Well,” he explained, “I was short with you at the restaurant. I don’t really like talking about my dad. I didn’t want him putting a damper on our night together, but it seemed to anyway. I didn’t know if you were upset with me about it.”

Pepper shook her head and set down the wood panel in her hands. “No. I understand how family stuff can be. I shouldn’t have pressed you about it. None of my business, really.”

“Then we’re okay?” he asked.

Pepper smiled and leaned in to kiss him. The contact was brief, her lips tighter than usual. “Yes,” she said, but he had a hard time believing her.

“Is something else bothering you, then? You seem a little . . . I don’t know . . . distant, maybe.”

Pepper sighed. “Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind the last few days. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Well, dump it on me. That’s what I’m here for. You’ll feel better if you can talk about it.”

“I really can’t talk about it.”

“Sure you can. You can tell me anything.”

She looked at him, a sadness in her dark brown eyes. “Not this.”

Grant didn’t like the way she said that. There was an ominous tone to her voice that worried him. “Don’t you think it’s a little early to be keeping secrets from each other?” he tried to say in a joking way, but she didn’t smile.

“I know you’re Mr. Honesty, Grant. And I promise to tell the truth whenever it’s humanly possible, but I can’t tell you this. I need you to leave it at that.”

He was so stunned by her blunt words, he didn’t know what to say. “Okay,” he managed.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Grant let her change the subject. It was easier than trying to figure out what to do about this issue looming between them. “I work both days and then I’m off Monday and Tuesday. Seven on, two off, then I switch to night shift for another seven straight.”

Pepper winced. “Okay, then. I guess I won’t be seeing you much when you’re on nights. That’s a miserable schedule.”

He didn’t mind it. He wasn’t slaving away, standing on his feet twelve hours on some assembly line, so the long shifts weren’t as bad as they seemed. “I get off at six. I’ll be able to meet you for breakfast before the salon opens, maybe. Or a quick dinner after the salon closes.”

“Okay,” she said, her expression brightening. “That’s not too bad. What do you say we knock this entertainment center out and I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“That sounds good to me.”

They focused on getting the rest of the furniture put together. It didn’t take long once they put their minds to it. Within the hour, they had the new entertainment center in place and Grant hooked up her electronics for her while she went to the kitchen to make grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Grant tried to focus on his chore, but he couldn’t keep the worries from creeping into his mind. What could possibly be so bad that she couldn’t tell him? He didn’t like secrets, and he certainly didn’t like his girlfriend keeping something from him so blatantly. Then again, who was he to point fingers? One mention of his father and he was looking for the exit. It seemed they both had things they didn’t want to share.

Chapter Fourteen

“We have a one-car rollover with possible entrapment,” the dispatcher’s voice barked through the radio. “Location on Interstate 59, northbound near mile-marker 153. HEMSI already en route. Assistance requested.”

Grant and Mack hurried out of the fire station and leapt into the truck. It had been a long and busy day already. They’d had a small warehouse fire, three car accidents, and an older man who fell and broke his hip. They’d had to break down the door for that one.

With only a half hour left in their shift, they got the call for another accident. Grant prayed it wouldn’t be a difficult one. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was grab a burger and veg out in front of the television. Even better if he could do that with Pepper on the couch beside him.

He was hopeful she would accept the offer if he extended it. Last night had ended better than he expected it to when he arrived. Her secret had loomed over their dinner, but as the evening wore on, the worry seemed to fade away and things returned to normal. After they’d eaten dinner, they snuggled on the couch together and watched a little TV before heading to the bedroom. He’d reluctantly left around ten, knowing he’d have to be up and at work by six the next morning.

Grant hadn’t gotten much sleep, but he would happily spend every evening that way. Tonight included. Reaching for his phone, he texted her about bringing takeout and a movie to her house when he got done. She replied back a moment later that it sounded fine, no war movies, and to let her know if he’d be late.

“Found them,” Mack pointed up ahead as he spied the lights of the ambulance. He pulled over just past the scene of the accident. A small blue car had gone off the road and rolled into the ditch, thankfully landing right side up. Naomi and Isaac were down by the car.

They grabbed their equipment and slid down the steep, grassy embankment to where the car had landed.

“What have we got?” Mack asked.

“The guy says he was on his way home when a deer ran out in front of him and he went off the road. We’ve cut off his seat belt and removed the deployed air bags, but he’s driving one of those tiny European compact cars and he’s not a small man, so we’re having some difficulty getting him out. One of his legs is pinned by the dashboard.”

“Are his injuries serious?” Grant followed up.

“I think that leg is broken. He’s got a laceration on his forehead that’s bleeding like crazy, and I think he knocked a tooth out. Nothing life threatening, but I’d like to get him out fast. We got the engine turned off, but there’s a little bit of smoke that’s worrying me because I can smell gas leaking.”

“We’re on it. Grant, go check him out. I’m going to get the hydraulic cutter. I’m worried about that gas leak. I want him out as quickly as we can.”

Nodding, Grant continued down to where the car was. It was one of those little Smart cars, at least, that’s what it started as. Right now, it looked like a crumpled ball of blue foil. As he got closer, he was able to see the man in the car was covered in blood. Head wounds were notorious for bleeding.

As he took another step, a rock slid beneath his boot. He fell to the ground, sliding down the embankment and hitting the back of his head on the case of equipment he’d carried with him. The hard whack of the metal against his head reverberated in his skull for a minute. His brain swam in the sea of confusion as darkness threatened to swallow him.

“Grant?” Isaac hovered over him, shining a flashlight into his eyes. “You okay?”

Blinking away the light, Grant winced and pushed himself up into a seated position. He touched the back of his head, but he wasn’t bleeding. There was just a knot rising up. “Yeah. I uh . . . slipped. I’ll be okay.”

Isaac helped him back up and returned to what he was doing. Grant dusted the grass off his pants, picked up his case, and headed back to do his job. He had work to do, no matter how badly his head was starting to pound.

The dashboard had collapsed in the rollover, pinning the man’s leg beneath it. They had almost no room to maneuver. They could cut away the side of the car, but there was no backseat and very little hatch space, just a steel cage that had managed to protect him but wasn’t so inclined to release him.

He picked up the radio at his hip, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through his skull. “Mack, bring the ram, too. That might work better than the wood blocks with the way the dash is sitting.”

“Is Roscoe okay?” the man in the car asked.

“Roscoe?” Grant turned to Naomi.

“Yes, Mr. Barker. We can see Roscoe in the back. He seems to be all right.”

Grant leaned over to see the small dog carrier in the back of the car. Inside was a little black-and-white Boston terrier. They needed to get the pup out of the car and out of the way so they could maneuver the driver’s removal.

Turning back to Isaac, he asked, “Will the back hatch open?”

Isaac went around and with a hard tug was able to jerk open the rear hatch window, then lower the bottom half, like the tailgate of a truck. Grant reached in and picked up the dog carrier. The dog wasn’t bleeding and didn’t exhibit any injuries, like favoring a paw. He was likely just shaken up from his bounce around the hatch when the car rolled. Grant said a few soft words to calm the little thing and sat his carrier a few feet away, well out of the work zone.

When he returned to the car, Isaac reached through the hatch and supported the back of the man’s seat as Grant pulled the lever to lower it backward.

“Does that take any of the pressure off your leg, Mr. Barker?” Naomi asked.

“Some, yeah.” Mr. Barker tried moving his leg and was able to shift it a little to the left. “It’s still pinned.”

Grant heard Mack yank the cord to start the hydraulic power unit. He turned to help him hook up the hoses and get ready to peel away the metal. Beside him was a tote bag full of two-by-fours that they used to prop doors and other heavy objects. “I think if we can use the ram to push up the dash and hold it in place with the wood, we may be able to get his leg out. Then we can cut away the side and slip him out that way, or through the back of the car.”

Mack handed over the ram and the bag, and Grant rounded the car to try to open the other door. It opened about a foot before squealing to a stop, but it was enough for him to get in and kick it open further with his boot. From there, he could lean onto the floorboard and wedge the ram into place. The ram expanded to almost double its length, pushing the collapsed front of the vehicle back almost to where it had been before the accident. He wedged in pieces of wood to support the gap and hold it in place after they removed the ram.

Mack cut off the driver’s-side door and started peeling the rest of the side away like a tin of sardines. The sound of it grated against Grant’s already throbbing head like nails across a chalkboard. Naomi and Isaac moved the gurney into place. After a few more minutes of cutting and negotiating the twisted metal, they were able to free Mr. Barker’s leg. They hoisted the man onto the gurney and Mack helped them up the steep embankment to the ambulance.

Grant was slowly easing back the ram when he noticed the smoke rising from the engine block. The black cloud was almost as thick as the fuzziness in his own mind. The smoke hadn’t been that bad before, but shifting around the dash could’ve made something worse. He pulled the last of the equipment out, rounding the car. He scooped up the power unit and helped Mack haul everything back up to the truck.

“Hurry!” Mack shouted.

The car was smoking in earnest now, thick, black clouds billowing out from under the hood. The paint on the hood was starting to blacken and bubble, with flames licking around the edge. “Grab the extinguisher.”

They got the man out just in time, but they had to contain the fire. With the rescue truck, all they had was the fire extinguishers they had on board. If they could put out the fire before the fuel tank caught, that would be enough. The tanks were designed not to blow, but if there was a leak in the line . . .

“Radio for the night shift to meet us out here with the fire truck, just in case,” Grant said, carrying the extinguisher down to shoot foam at the car from a relatively safe distance.

“Don’t forget Roscoe!” Mr. Barker cried from the back of the ambulance.

Crap. Grant looked to the right where the dog carrier was still sitting. The scared pup started whimpering as he got close. Poor little guy. He could smell the smoke and he was scared to death.

“Hey there. It’s okay. I’ve got you,” Grant said. The dog looked up at him with wide, trusting brown eyes and the funny sort of grin that bulldogs seem to have. Grant set down the extinguisher and grabbed the carrier to hand it up to Mack.

With the dog safely stowed in the ambulance with his owner, Grant returned to pick up his fire extinguisher and put out the flames before they got too much worse. While he was dealing with the dog, the flames had spread into the cab, lighting the fabric seats and the duffel bag that was sitting on the passenger side.

“I’m going to need more!” Grant shouted to Mack and lifted the nozzle to put it out. He was only a few steps from the car when he heard a loud hissing sound.

His normal reaction would’ve been to run, but his brain was simply not cooperating with his body. Before he could do anything, the car exploded and everything went black.

“Is he okay?” Pepper asked as she rushed into the hospital waiting room.

Mack was there, along with Blake, Ivy, Maddie, and Hazel. Blake stood up when she arrived, giving her a nod, followed by a hug. “He’ll be okay. Mom and Dad are in with him right now. They said they’re going to release him tonight.”

“What happened?” Practically speaking, Pepper knew serious injuries were always a possibility with his job, but she wasn’t expecting to get that text from Ivy so soon.

When she didn’t hear back from Grant about their dinner plans, she thought maybe the accident was bigger than they anticipated. She didn’t want to text him while he was working at saving lives. An hour went by. Then two. Then three. When her phone finally chirped, it was Ivy’s text and her worst fears were suddenly very real.

“I guess I can’t blame him since he had a head injury and was in shock,” Mack said, standing up from his seat, “but the guy didn’t tell us that he had a portable tank of propane in his duffel bag. At the time, I didn’t think the car was going to catch fire or we would’ve checked for flammables. When the fire spread to the cab, the tank exploded. It blew Grant back about ten feet through the air and set his shirt on fire.”

“He was burned?” Pepper felt her chest ache. Ivy had left out any details in the text and just told her to meet them at the hospital. For all she knew, he’d been completely engulfed in flames or had a leg blown off.

“His left forearm got the worst of it,” Blake explained. “He’ll be out of work for a few weeks until it heals up. Riding his motorcycle might take longer, depending on how well he can use the clutch.”

The doors to the waiting room opened and Grant’s parents came out. Pepper was unprepared for the visceral reaction she had to seeing Norman Chamberlain for the first time after learning the whole story from her mother. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to claw his eyes out or kick him in the junk that had caused all her mother’s troubles.

She balled her hands into fists and took a deep breath. Neither was appropriate. For one thing, those eyes were the same as Logan’s. And Grant’s. She might hate Norman, but she couldn’t hate the beautiful blue eyes that she stared into as she lay with Grant. For another, tonight was about Grant, not about what happened almost thirty years ago.

“How is he?” she asked.

Norman narrowed his gaze at Pepper. She could tell he was trying to place her and figure out why she was here. Fortunately, Blake stepped in.

“Dad, this is Grant’s girlfriend, Pepper.”

Norman nodded and put his arm around Helen’s shoulders as she sniffled into her tissues. “I know who she is. You’re Kate Weaver’s girl, aren’t you? You look just like she did at that age.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied through gritted teeth. “It’s Kate Anthony now.”

“Of course, she married the fellow from the gas station.” There was a smirk curling his lips that made his blue eyes seem to twinkle with amusement. Did he think it was funny that his mother had been put in that position? “I saw him at the funeral with your brother. How’s he doing since his stroke?”

Pepper took another deep breath, trying to ignore the way he so casually referred to her brother as though he were no more significant than any other of her family members. “He’s doing better. We’re hoping he can return to running the shop soon.”

“How’s Grant doing, Dad?” Blake asked, no doubt sensing the tension between the two of them.

“Fine. They’ve got him on IV antibiotics and fluids. He’s got a good dose of morphine in him at the moment to help with the pain. They don’t think the burn is serious enough to need surgery at this point, but they said it depends on how he heals.”

“Can I take Pepper back there with me to see him?”

Norman nodded. “They were about to give him a tetanus shot and unhook his IV when we left, but they’re probably done now.”

Blake put his arm around Pepper’s back and escorted her through the doors and down the hallway to the emergency room suites.

“Have you seen him yet?”

“Yeah,” Blake said. “Ivy and I were the first to get here. We followed Mack. He’s in a lot better shape now, after getting the medicine and having the wounds bandaged. It was pretty rough when he first arrived.”

“He was in a lot of pain?”

Blake nodded, stopping outside room D, which was draped with a closed curtain. “They said that it could be worse. Most of his nerve endings are dead where he was burned. Now he’s just high as a kite. You’ve been warned. I’ll wait out here.” He pulled back the curtain for her to walk in.

Grant was lying in the bed wearing a pale blue hospital gown. His arm was bandaged from his wrist up to his elbow. There was another bandage across his forehead and what seemed like a hundred tiny abrasions all over the rest of the skin she could see. She could feel tears welling in her eyes at the sight of him.

“Hey, Pep,” he said with a weary smile. “Sorry I stood you up for our dinner date.”

“You have a good excuse.” Pepper sat down on the edge of the bed and shook her head. “You look awful. What happened?”

“Apparently I forgot to stop, drop, and roll.” He raised up his arm. “You forget that stuff when you’re knocked unconscious by a Smart car steering wheel flying through the air like a Frisbee. But I saved the dog. That’s the important part, right?”

Pepper scooped up his good hand and gently held it in her lap. “When you use this story to pick up chicks later, you be sure to lead with that. The women will melt.”

Grant frowned at her. “You’re stupid,” he said bluntly.

“Pardon me?”

“Why are you talking about me picking up women? I thought you were my girlfriend. I’m not supposed to pick up women. Unless you’re dumping me. Are you dumping me? It’s a really shitty time to pick, if you are.”

“I’m not dumping you,” Pepper replied, wondering why a part of her was determined to think of this relationship as temporary.

“Good. I want you to take care of me. It would make it more awkward if we broke up first.”

Pepper’s brows went up in surprise. “Me? I figured they’d haul you away to the family mansion and saddle you with a private nurse.”

“That’s probably what they’re wanting to do, but I’m a grown man. I don’t want my mommy hovering over me. I want to go home and I want you to stay with me. Please.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to override your father’s decree. He looked at me like a peasant in the waiting room.”

“He looks at everyone that wa-y-y,” Grant said dismissively with a slight slur to his words. “He’s a big, old, stuck-up snob just like Maddie is. But you want to know something funny?”

“What’s that?”

“As high-and-mighty as he acts, when he cheats on my mother, it’s always with the women he turns his nose up at publicly.”

Pepper’s eyes grew wide at Grant’s morphine-fueled proclamation. Had he really just said what she thought he said? She knew Norman was unfaithful and rumors abounded in the salon, but she always thought he was smart enough to hide it from his family. Was he so arrogant that he’d flaunt it in front of his own children? Torture his wife with his blatant infidelity? Perhaps her mother was lucky to get away from Norman while she could.

“He’s a real bastard,” he muttered.

“Honey, you may want to stop talking until the medicine wears off.”

He shrugged, unconcerned about his loose lips. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Pepper. But I can tell you. You’re my girlfriend. That’s like being my lawyer, right? Relationship privilege.”

“Okay, but try to think before you speak when you get around the rest of your family.”

“I’ve kept that secret for twelve years. I’ll keep it for another twelve. Wait . . .” he stopped and looked at her with a frown drawing his brows together. “Except I just told you. Shoot.” His eyes glazed over a little as he studied her face. “You’re pretty,” he said with a dopey smile.

Before Pepper could reply, the nurse came in with his discharge papers. “Are you going to be caring for him?” she asked.

“Yes,” Pepper said. She hadn’t really given it much thought, but she didn’t normally work on the weekends unless someone needed to come in on a Saturday, so she could dedicate the next few days to helping him recover, just as he’d dedicated his time to helping with her house.

The nurse explained the care of Grant’s burns and stitches to her, how to watch for signs of infection, and handed over a couple prescriptions for antibiotics and pain.

“The pills might make him a little queasy, so make sure he eats before he takes them. And he needs as many calories, mostly from protein, that he can get. It will help his body by providing the building blocks it needs to regenerate that new skin.” The nurse turned to Grant. “Now, they told me your brother brought in some clothes for you to wear since yours are currently in the trash heap. We’ll have the orderly help you get dressed and roll you out to the car.”

An orderly came in with a wheelchair. Pepper took the paperwork and Grant’s bag of belongings, and stepped out of the room to wait with Blake while the man helped Grant dress.

“How is he? The medicine hit him pretty hard earlier.”

“He’s okay. Maybe a little more honest than he should be, but nothing exciting.”

“Honest, huh?” Blake turned toward the curtain with a curious expression. “I thought Grant was always honest. At least, he never holds back on his opinions and thoughts with me. I guess he’s been glossing over more than I thought.”

“Well, he did say he wanted me to drive him home and take care of him this weekend. Is that going to be a problem?”

Blake shrugged. “Mama may squawk, but Grant’s an adult, he can do what he wants. I’ll go break the news while you wait with him. Maybe by the time you pull the car up, my folks will be back on the road to Rosewood.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Blake patted her shoulder and disappeared down the hallway. A few minutes later, the door opened and the orderly rolled Grant out into the hallway. Pepper clutched his papers as they headed downstairs to the loading zone. His family was nowhere to be seen as she pulled up her little SUV and helped load Grant inside.

She considered her path as they exited the hospital parking lot. They were on the fringe of Birmingham. There were probably a lot more options here than there were back in Rosewood to get what they needed. “I thought we would get your prescriptions here in town where they have twenty-four-hour pharmacies, and then we can get you something to eat.”

“I want a steak,” he announced. “The nurse said I should eat protein.”

Pepper sighed. “It’s the middle of the night and you’re one-handed for a while. Steak is probably out of the question for a few weeks.”

“You won’t cut up my meat for me?” he said, looking at her with sad, puppy dog eyes.

“We’re getting your prescriptions and a hamburger, and then I’m taking you home and putting you to bed.”

“Hmm . . .” he said thoughtfully with a sneaky grin. “That’s way better than steak.”

Chapter Fifteen

It was nearly one in the morning by the time Pepper pulled up outside of the old warehouse where Grant lived. She grabbed the bag of medicine and first-aid supplies she’d gotten at the pharmacy and helped Grant inside and up the stairs to his loft.

Digging out the keys from his personal effects, she opened the door, revealing the large open space Grant called home. He lived on the third floor of what used to be an old sewing machine factory that had closed in the late seventies. After being abandoned for twenty years, a real estate developer bought the building and had the space on the second and third floors converted to lofts. The ground floor was currently occupied by the local sporting goods store.

Pepper had never been much for the industrial look when it came to a home, but the moment she stepped inside last Halloween, she knew it suited Grant perfectly. It wasn’t fussy. There were a lot of clean lines. Concrete floors and countertops, leather furniture and glass tables. The ductwork in the ceiling was exposed, as was the brick on the outer walls. The space was wide-open except for the bedroom and bathroom, which were walled off near the back of the apartment.

Pepper headed straight for the bedroom to get Grant settled. Although he’d been quite mouthy and animated earlier, he’d gotten a lot quieter since she fed him. He’d even slept the last twenty minutes or so of the drive home. Pepper wasn’t sure if it was the belly full of a double cheeseburger, the medicine, or the late hour, but he was wiped out.

“Sit down on the edge of the bed,” she instructed.

Grant slowly lowered himself onto the edge, wincing slightly as he seemed to do with nearly every movement. “Are you going to undress me now?” he asked with a mischievous smile despite everything that had happened.

“To a point,” she replied. She crouched down to pull off his shoes and socks, then gently lifted his shirt over his head. “Where are your pajamas?” she asked.

Grant pointed over to the dresser under the window. “I don’t really have pajamas, but I keep some lounging pants in the bottom drawer.”

That would have to do. He stood up while she unbuttoned and tugged down his pants, then he stepped into the soft, flannel pajama pants she found. Pepper stacked all the pillows behind him, then helped him ease back into bed. She pulled up the blankets and propped his burned arm on a few smaller pillows. Last, she turned off the overhead light, leaving on only the small lamp beside his bed. “All comfy?”

“As comfortable as the Human Torch is going to get.”

“I’m going to bring you a glass of water and leave it here with your pills, so you have them if you need them.”

Grant’s brow furrowed at her. “Are you leaving?”

“No. But I think you need to sleep, so I’m going into the other room.”

“Don’t. Stay.” Grant patted the empty expanse of mattress beside him. The last time she’d laid in the bed, things had been very different. They’d indulged in hot, sweaty sex all night and she was certain as she left, that she’d never return to the scene of the crime. Yet here she was, back in Grant’s bed, this time, playing her boyfriend’s nursemaid.

She would stay, but only until he fell asleep. Pepper got his water and medicine situated, and then eased onto the bed so she wouldn’t jostle him. She curled up near his side without touching him. His arm and his head were the most serious injuries, but he was peppered with tiny cuts and abrasions. Every inch of his body had to be sore.

Looking up at the dark ceiling, she said, “You scared me today, Grant.” She wasn’t good at talking about her feelings, but in the darkened room with a drugged listener, it was easier somehow. Maybe he wouldn’t remember this discussion in the morning. That alone inspired her to be more honest. “What happened out there?”

He shook his head and put his good arm around her shoulder. “I don’t know. Everything that could go wrong seemed to. Sometimes you just have those days. Fire is unpredictable, and so are the people around you. Anything can happen. This is my first serious injury since I joined Fire and Rescue. All this time I’ve taken care of other people, but today, I was one of the patients. It was weird to wake up in the ambulance and realize what had happened.”

“I haven’t really thought about the consequences of your job and just how dangerous it can be. It finally hit me today how scary your work is.”

“Life is dangerous. Sure, being a firefighter has its risks, but what about the guy we rescued today? He was just a guy driving down the highway, minding his own business. He could’ve just as easily been killed today.”

“It worries me more than I thought it would. I’m afraid . . .” Pepper said, then hesitated. She needed to speak her mind and get this off her chest. “I’m afraid to get attached to you, Grant. Not just because of the work, but for a dozen different reasons. It’s hard. I feel myself falling for you and I’m fighting it.”

Grant’s finger lifted her chin and turned her head to look at him. “Fight it,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t want to fall in love with me, Pepper. Don’t get me wrong, I want you to. I think you and I are fantastic together. You’ve made me consider things that have never crossed my mind before. I feel myself falling for the first time in my life. And I should be happy, but like you, I’m fighting it.”

He was falling for her? Pepper was stunned. She felt something building between them, but she hadn’t let herself think of it as something serious. The “L” word was an impossibility, especially considering everything she knew about Logan. “Why are you fighting it?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to be like my father, and it scares me every single day we’re together that I’m going to abuse your trust in me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I had secrets, too. Mine is that my father is a pig, and I worry I’m doomed to be just like him.”

Pepper’s eyes widened at his blunt words. “You . . . think you can’t be faithful?”

Grant shrugged. “I don’t know if I can. I’ve never tried. But I know my father has failed time and time again.”

Pepper couldn’t stop herself from asking a question since the morphine had loosened his tongue. “What happened with your father? You said something about it at the hospital, too.”

Grant sighed. “My father was my hero. That’s the way it should be for a little boy, you know? I couldn’t wait to grow up and be just like him. I wanted to make him proud so he would notice me. He was so busy and my other siblings demanded so much of his attention, it was hard to feel seen in my house. One day, when I was eleven, I earned the scouting badge that I’d been working on all year. It was one of the big ones. I was so proud to get it, but my dad had to work late and couldn’t come to the ceremony. When our troop meeting was over, my mother was going to take me to Scoops for ice cream to celebrate.

“We met in the Jaycee’s Building, so I told my mom I wanted to run across the street to show Dad my patch real quick before we got ice cream. She waited there for me, chatting with another mom as I jogged over to his offices. I opened the door, quietly. Anytime we went to Dad’s office, we were trained to be quiet and behave. I think that night I was too quiet. I slipped down the hallway to my dad’s office, where I could see the light on. I figured he was working at his desk. Everyone else had gone home. But when I got near the doorway, I realized something wasn’t right. I heard voices. I heard a woman’s voice.”

Pepper winced. She already knew how this story would end. It had to be hard to face that at such a young age when your father was your hero.

“I stopped just outside the doorway. From there, I could see my dad with his pants around his ankles. Some blonde was on his desk with her bare legs wrapped around his waist. She was shouting her head off. I was barely old enough to know what was going on, but I knew it wasn’t something he was supposed to be doing with some random woman. So I turned around and walked out.”

“Did he see you?”

Grant took a deep breath, her head rising and falling with the gentle movement. The arm that was wrapped around her shoulder tightened just slightly, as though he needed her support to get the words out. “If he did, he never said anything. When I got back to the car, I told my mom that the door was locked, so I’d just show him when he got home. I got a banana split at Scoops that night and made myself sick eating it. To this day, I can’t eat one. And to this day, I’ve never shown my father the patch I earned.”

“I’m so sorry, Grant.”

“I’ve never spoken about that night to anyone. I knew it would only hurt my family if they found out the truth, so I kept it to myself. But I swore I’d never lie to anyone else. I’d keep this one secret, but to make up for it, I’d be honest in every other way possible.”

That explained it. She’d always wondered why he was so dead set on honesty, even to the point of painfulness. Now she understood. He was already being eaten up by someone else’s lie, he didn’t need any others in his life. But could his honesty ever make up for his father’s treachery in his own mind? “Does that help?” she asked.

“Some days. At the very least, I can convince myself that I’m nothing like him because of it. Other days, I realize there’s nothing I can do to make up for what my father has done to our family and to countless women he’s used over the years. Sometimes I wake in a cold sweat, terrified I’m going to be just like him someday.”

As Grant finished speaking, Pepper noticed a solemn clarity in his voice. This wasn’t a loose tongue caused by drugs. It might have initially given him the courage to start the story, but the medication had worn off and he finished it all on his own. It was just raw, honest memories being shared after an awful day. It was that infamous intimacy she’d always desired but had rarely achieved.

“You’re not your father, Grant.” She ran a soothing palm over his bare chest, avoiding his injuries. “You’re better than he is.”

His response was small, quiet, and unbelievably sad. “You don’t know that.”

The faint smell of something burning jerked Grant awake. He shot up in bed, his heart racing. Fire.

Then his fuzzy brain was finally able to detect a hint of maple syrup and bacon mixed in with it. It wasn’t a fire. It was breakfast. Was he hallucinating? Until he looked down and saw the bandage on his arm, he wasn’t entirely sure if he’d imagined the last twenty-four hours or not. He felt like he had the worst hangover of his life with a throbbing head, sore muscles, and more than a few mystery pains. Even his eyeballs seemed to hurt this morning, probably from the smoke.

None of that held a candle to his arm, though. That was indescribably unpleasant. Like someone had scraped a wire brush over the worst sunburn he’d ever had. He groaned when he shifted his arm and eased against the pillows. He’d sure done it this time. This wasn’t just a bounce-back injury.

He closed his eyes and started drifting to sleep. Grant was tugged back to consciousness by the sound of a woman humming and cabinets closing in his kitchen. That’s right—he’d smelled breakfast, so someone had to be making it. His memories became clearer and he realized who was in his house: Pepper.

Sitting up more slowly than he would’ve liked, Grant threw back the covers and placed his bare feet on the concrete floors of his loft. The cold floor was a shock to his system, making him jerk and regret it as every muscle in his body protested. He pushed through it, though, standing up and stumbling out into his kitchen in his flannel pants.

Pepper was at the stove. Her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun and she was wearing nothing but one of his Fire and Rescue T-shirts. It nearly swallowed her, but she’d never looked sexier. He only wished she was here making breakfast and wearing his shirt under different circumstances.

“Morning,” he said, with a gravelly, smoky voice.

Pepper turned to him and smiled. “Good morning. How is my patient feeling today?”

“Like I spent the evening in hell,” he admitted. “I’m bruised, beaten, and parts of me are slightly well-done. But it got you here to my place, so it’s not all bad.”

Pepper pulled out one of the chairs at his small dining table and gestured for him to sit down. “If you wanted me to stay the night at your place, you could’ve just asked. No need to set yourself on fire.”

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

“Breakfast is almost ready. Once you get some food in you, you can take your pills. That should help.”

“That would be wonderful.” He could feel every muscle fiber in his body move, mainly because it hurt. Something to take the edge off would be great. “What are we having?”

Pepper scraped the contents of a skillet onto a plate and placed it on the table in front of him. “I made scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, and pancakes with maple syrup. The bacon is a little on the crispy side, sorry.”

That was what he’d smelled earlier. Fortunately, he liked his bacon near burned anyway. The pancakes were cut up into tiny pieces on his plate and were already drizzled in syrup and melted butter. She’d thought of everything. Pepper followed the plate with a fork and a tall, cold glass of milk.

“Milk?” he frowned. The only reason he even had milk in his refrigerator was to add to his coffee. He hadn’t sat down to drink a glass of the stuff since he was about ten and his mother had made him drink it with dinner.

“You need protein and you need to rest. Milk gives you the protein. Drink up.”

Her tone was very final, so he stopped arguing. He couldn’t complain about her being a strict nurse when he’d demanded she be the one to care for him. Besides, he’d never had a woman stay the night and cook for him before. He needed to take full advantage of it. Instead of complaining, he took a large sip of his milk and dove into his breakfast. He was starving, for some reason.

“Did we eat dinner last night?”

“Yep. I picked up a Five Guys bacon cheeseburger for you on the way home. You devoured it.”

He had no recollection. That medicine they gave him was so strong that the entire evening was like a fuzzy dream he couldn’t quite remember. That whack on his head probably hadn’t helped. Pieces came to him in short flashes he wasn’t able to put together. For some reason, thoughts of his old scout meetings came to mind although that made no sense at all. He hadn’t had anything to do with all that since he was in the seventh grade.

Pepper sat down opposite him after a few minutes with her own plate and a handful of medicine bottles. She dosed out a couple of pills and handed them to him. “Take these.”

He did as he was told, chasing the medicine with more milk and some bacon. About ten minutes later, as he scooped the last bite of eggs into his mouth, he noticed his limbs felt heavier, like his bones had been filled with lead instead of marrow. The aches and pains had faded to a dull annoyance in the back of his mind, but the medication seemed to muffle everything along with the pain.

“Is your medicine kicking in?”

Grant looked over at her with eyes that could barely stay open. “I think so. Holy crap, that stuff is strong. How am I supposed to get anything done when they make me feel like this? I can barely hold my fork, much less a fire hose.”

“You’re not supposed to get anything done. And you’re certainly not hauling around a fire hose anytime soon. You’re supposed to rest and heal. That’s it.”

That sounded like Grant’s version of hell. He hated just sitting around being idle, but with the way he felt, he had no choice. At least for a day or two. Then, maybe the pain would subside enough that he could cut back on the pain medication and feel normal again.

“Do you want to lie down?” she asked.

“I just got up. How about you help me to my recliner?”

“Sure.” Pepper smiled and helped him up out of his chair. They moved together to the area of the loft where he had his big-screen television, leather couch, and strategically placed love seat with dual recliners. He sat down in his favorite seat and pulled the tab on the side to raise his legs. He watched as Pepper moved around, fussing over him. She scooped up a blanket from the couch and threw it over his legs and propped a pillow behind his head. “Do you want me to turn on the television?” she asked.

“Not right now. Just come sit with me for a while before I fall asleep again.”

Pepper nodded and walked around the love seat to sit on the other side. She raised the legs on her side, creating a cozy recliner for two.

“Did you sleep with me last night?” He had the faint recollection of them lying side by side, but that side of the bed was still neatly made when he got up this morning.

“No. After you finally fell asleep, I came out here and slept on the couch. I was afraid I’d bump into one of your injuries in the night.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” he insisted. “And if you did, it’s a small price to pay for having you snuggled up beside me all night. Although, this isn’t so bad, either.” Grant lifted his right arm up so Pepper could rest her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “This medicine makes me fuzzy,” he complained.

“You’re not supposed to be concentrating; you’re supposed to be healing. And it’s not nearly as strong as whatever they gave you last night, trust me.”

“Uh-oh. Did I do something?”

“You were certainly mouthy.”

Grant groaned. “Ugh. What did I say?” He tried to remember the conversation from the night before, but it was even harder now that he had the pain medication pumping through his veins. “Was I rude? Did I insult a doctor? Fondle a nurse?”

“No, no. You were your ever-charming self at the hospital. When we got home, we talked some. Mainly about your dad.”

That was even worse. Was that why he had fuzzy images of scout patches and ice cream in his head? Had the drugs really caused him to spill his most painful memory without him even realizing it? “I probably said too much, then.”

“No. You said what you needed to say. And I think getting that off your chest was healthy. That had to be a hard thing to carry around all those years. Like you said the other night, that’s what we’re here for. I’m glad to be someone you can share it with. Your secrets are safe with me. I have relationship privilege, after all.”

That was a relief. He wasn’t happy about what he might’ve said, but at least he didn’t have the immediate worry of her spreading the tale of his father’s infidelity all over town. “And what about your secret, Pepper? I bared my soul. I think it’s your turn.”

He felt Pepper stiffen in his arms for a moment. “I told you that I can’t tell you,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to, or that it’s uncomfortable to talk about. I just can’t.”

“Not even when I’m on drugs and will forget it all tomorrow?”

“Not even then. It’s not my secret to tell, Grant.”

Grant sighed, the medication luring him even deeper into oblivion. “You know what sucks?”

“What?” she asked, snuggling against his chest.

“We’re not even keeping our own secrets. We’re living with these burdens and suffering from the weight of them because of other people’s shit. It just seems to spill over into our lives.”

Pepper had no response to that, but even if she had, he wouldn’t have heard her. As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that their relationship was slowly falling apart and there was nothing they could do about it.

Chapter Sixteen

Monday morning, Logan entered the Rosewood Sheriff’s Department for the first time. He’d anticipated a quiet morning, but then he’d received a frantic call from Jeanette Kincaid. The police had taken her husband in for questioning.

This was the first he’d heard from the Kincaids since she’d come by the office the week before. Pat never showed to speak with him, but Logan had expected that, since her husband didn’t seem to think there was a problem. When nothing happened, part of him had decided Jeanette was paranoid and they weren’t going to arrest Pat. Then again, he figured it was inevitable that he would end up down here to get one of his clients out of jail sooner or later.

He stopped at the front desk and spoke to the receptionist there. “I’m Logan Anthony, attorney at law. I’m here to see my client, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Go through those doors,” she said.

As he approached, a loud buzzing sound unlocked the door and Logan went through it and down the corridor. At the end, a deputy was sitting behind a plexiglass window. The officer had to walk him through the process of signing in, turning over any sharp or hazardous objects, and getting buzzed through the next door.

Simon Chamberlain greeted him on the other side. “Mr. Anthony,” he said curtly. “We’ve got your client in our interrogation room.” He turned and Logan fell in step beside him down the corridor.

“Has he been arrested?” Logan asked.

“No, sir. He’s just here for official questioning.”

Official questioning. That translated to: they wanted to arrest him but didn’t have enough information yet. Hauling him down here and making him sweat would loosen his tongue and hopefully give them enough rope to hang him with it. “Does he know he can leave at any time? That he doesn’t have to talk to you?”

Simon shrugged. “He hasn’t asked to leave or hesitated at all to answer questions. He didn’t even ask for an attorney until his wife insisted on it. You’re his lawyer, you can tell him he can leave. But we do have some questions we’d like answered and we’d rather not arrest him and make a mess of this until we’re certain. This is a delicate case.”

“And a high-pressure one to solve,” Logan noted.

“Yes, it is. We don’t get a lot of stuff like this in Rosewood. But we’ve got a good case against Mr. Kincaid.” Simon stopped outside a door that read INTERROGATION ROOM 1. “Before you haul your client out of here and clam up, you might want to see what we have to say first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Officer Chamberlain.”

Simon nodded and opened the door. Inside, Pat Kincaid was sitting at an aluminum table across from Sheriff Todd.

“Sheriff, can I have a few moments with my client?”

Sheriff Todd sighed and pushed back his chair. “Would either of you like some coffee?”

“Sure, black please.” Pat said with an upbeat smile. The tall, lean man with the dark mustache didn’t seem at all concerned that he was one wrong answer away from being arrested.

Once the door shut behind them, Logan slipped into Sheriff Todd’s chair and frowned at Pat. “My name is Logan Anthony, I’m a local attorney. Your wife hired me to represent you.”

Pat shrugged. “I know. She mentioned that, but you’re just wasting your time, Mr. Anthony. This is all a big misunderstanding. That’s why I didn’t bother with coming to see you earlier.”

“You’re in the police interrogation room. I think it’s gone past a simple misunderstanding. Why didn’t you call me the minute they showed up at your house?”

He shrugged. “They said they just wanted to ask me a couple questions. No big deal.”

“ ‘No big deal’? Pat, they’re trying to nail about fifteen counts of aggravated criminal surveillance on you. That’s a Class A misdemeanor and each count can earn you up to a two-thousand-dollar fine and a year in jail. Never mind that it could land you on the sex offender list for the rest of your life.”

“They’re not going to convict me. I’m sorry Jeanette even dragged you into this thing, but I’m not the peeper.”

“As your attorney, I’m glad to hear that. But what I need is something to prove to the police that you’re not. I wish you’d come to see me before now so we could have this discussion without police swarming all around us. Tell me you have an alibi.”

“I do,” Pat said brightly.

Logan breathed a sigh of relief. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

The relief immediately faded away and tension crept back into Logan’s shoulders. “Yes, you can. I’m your attorney. We have attorney-client privilege. You can tell me anything.”

Pat wrinkled his large nose and made a sucking sound with his teeth and tongue. “I don’t know. I don’t want to get anyone else in trouble.”

“Were you doing something illegal on the nights the peeper was reported?”

“Technically, yes.”

Logan had apparently picked a winner when he chose this case. “More illegal than peeping in women’s windows?”

“I don’t know the law, Mr. Anthony. I’m less worried about myself than I am about my friend. He’s doing me a favor, trying to help me out. I’d rather not get him in trouble if I don’t have to. I’m not the peeper. I’m not going to confess to a crime I did commit to avoid being prosecuted for one I didn’t. There’s got to be a way to prove my innocence without bringing my arrangement with Boyd into this.”

“There might be, but you’ve got to tell me the truth. It may not have to go beyond these walls, but I need to know where you were on all the nights in question.”

Pat sighed and sat back in his chair. “I’ve been working evenings at Boyd Foley’s chicken houses for extra money.”

That was the problem. “Under the table?”

Pat nodded. “I needed some extra cash and he offered to let me come work in the evenings after my shift at the Piggly Wiggly. I couldn’t be peeking in women’s windows because I was out at Boyd’s farm shoveling chicken shit.”

“Boyd wouldn’t have any record of you being out there, would he?”

“I don’t reckon so. He wouldn’t write it down if he wasn’t putting it on the books. It was a cash transaction and no one knew about it but the two of us.”

Logan’s forehead planted into the palm of his hand. Of course. “Let me ask you one more question then, Pat. If you were out at Boyd’s farm working, why did they find your boot print at one of the crime scenes?”

At that, Pat could only shake his head. “I have no idea. That’s the part that gets me. When the cops asked me about the boots, they were in my closet just where I’d left them. I don’t even know the young lady whose window had my shoeprints. I wasn’t anywhere near that place that night. I was out at Boyd’s.”

“You weren’t wearing those boots out at the farm?”

“No. Those are my good boots. I wear my old, worn-out pair for mucking. Those boots should’ve been in my closet all the nights in question.”

That bothered Logan. The cops were after Pat because of that boot print and that meant they had a pretty good match on the tread pattern. If Pat wasn’t outside that window, how could his boots have gotten there? Could someone be trying to set him up by deliberately planting his footprint there?

“You’re not going to tell my wife, are you, Mr. Anthony? I don’t want her to know what I’ve been doing. She thinks I’ve been working late at the grocery store.”

He gathered from his meeting with Jeanette that she didn’t believe his lie, but couldn’t surmise what she thought he was doing instead. Either way, it wasn’t helping things when the suspect’s wife didn’t know where her husband was. “No, I’m not going to tell her, but you need to be honest with your wife. If you were honest about what was going on, you might not be here with the police breathing down your neck.”

Pat nodded and winced, reaching under the table to rub his leg.

“Are you okay?” Logan asked.

“My knee is just acting up. It’s an old track injury from high school. It put an end to my running career and now it just aches from time to time.”

Logan stored that information away. He knew at least one of the police reports involved seeing the peeper run from the scene. If Pat couldn’t run, he couldn’t be the peeper.

“So what do we tell Sheriff Todd when he comes back?”

“We’re going to tell him you’ve been helping your buddy Boyd out on evenings and leave it at that. The rest of the story is the IRS’s concern.”

“And what about my boots?”

Logan shook his head. That was a good damn question. “I have no idea.”

“Hey, Logan.” Pepper stepped out of the salon onto the sidewalk and noticed her brother standing outside. Sarah was still inside closing up.

“Hey, Pepper. Are you free for dinner tonight? I’ve had a pretty wild day.”

“A day you can’t talk about,” she noted. She had no doubt her brother was filled with interesting information, but lawyer-client privilege kept most of it under wraps.

He nodded in dismay. “That’s true. We don’t have much of an outlet in the legal world. That’s why we drink.”

“Are you really wanting dinner, or do you want to just skip the pretense and head straight to Woody’s?”

“I should eat,” Logan admitted. “I was at the police station for so long, I missed lunch.”

Pepper nodded. Although he couldn’t officially talk about what happened today, she already knew all about it. Someone saw Sheriff Todd escort Pat Kincaid into the police station and Logan go in sometime after that. It didn’t take long for the information to spread to the salon.

“That’s okay, we can get dinner. I know the general idea, anyway. I heard they hauled Pat Kincaid into the police station today. I figure he’s a suspect in the peeper case.”

“They did bring him in, but thankfully they’re not charging him,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“Really?” She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or not. Pepper didn’t like to think that someone like Mr. Kincaid was a pervert, but he was one of the people she told about her new window the night the peeper struck her house again. If it wasn’t him, then who was it?

“He has an alibi and a bad knee. There’s no way he could run from Grant the way the peeper did that second time at your place. I’m not sure where the police are going to go next with it. I don’t think they have much evidence to point to anyone else. I hate that, especially considering you’re one of the victims.” Logan got a distant look on his face as he stared off in the direction of the shoe store around the square.

“What’s the matter?” Pepper asked.

“Nothing. There’s just some stuff about the case that doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe someday we’ll—”

The sound of two people arguing drew their attention and Logan let his sentence hang, unfinished. Turning their heads, they noticed Pat Kincaid and his wife, Jeanette, standing on the corner near Jeanette’s car. She must have driven down to pick him up from the police station.

Pepper was glad to see the police had released him, but she couldn’t say the same for his wife. Jeanette looked fit to be tied. Her face was flushed red and she was clutching the strap of her purse like she might whip it off and swing it at her husband’s head at any moment.

“You thought I would be happy?” she snapped. “Yes, of course, I’m glad to know my husband isn’t the town creep. That might answer Sheriff Todd’s questions, but it still doesn’t answer mine.”

They both paused right in front of their car to continue arguing. They didn’t seem to care much that they were right on the square, where anyone could see and hear them.

“What are you talking about?” Pat asked. He looked tired, like he’d put in too many hours at the police station to have his wife grate at him.

“Where were you all those nights?” Jeanette asked. “The cops asked if we were together and I had to tell them no. Do you know how embarrassing that is? That I can’t even tell the cops where you are at night? All you do is lie to me and I know it. I’ve called the store looking for you when you have to work late”—she gestured with air quotes—“and you haven’t been there. Where have you been?”

Pat rubbed his hand over his mustache and sighed. “You know, you’re going to regret all of this later,” he said.

“Oh, shut up, Patrick! The only thing I regret is how stupid I must seem to you. Just because I haven’t caught you yet doesn’t mean you’re not cheating on me. I’m not a fool. You’ve been secretive, taking calls and making plans that you’re hiding from me. You work late all the time . . . you jump right into the shower without even speaking a word to me. Washing off the evidence of your infidelity, no doubt!”

“Jeanette . . .” Pat spoke softly in comparison to her loud shrieks, but she paid no attention to him.

“Twenty-five years, Pat. I’ve given you twenty-five years of my life. I’ve loved you, cared for you, fed you, made you a nice home. I just can’t believe you would do this to me.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” Pat snapped at last. “I’m not cheating on you, Jeanette. And I’m not the damn peeper!”

“I know you’re not the peeper, Pat,” she barked.

A sudden dawning of understanding came over his face. “Why are you so certain of that?” Pat asked.

Jeanette’s eyes widened for a moment as she stuttered over her words. “Well, I-I’ve kn-nown you for nearly thirty years. You might be a cheating bastard, but you’re not a pervert.”

Pat lifted an accusatory finger at her. “You’re the peeper, aren’t you?” he said.

Pepper’s jaw dropped open, an expression mirrored by his wife. She turned and put her hand on Logan’s forearm. When she looked at him, her brother looked equally stunned by the charges Pat had just leveled at his wife.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jeanette scoffed.

“No, it makes perfect sense. That’s why my boot prints were found outside Colette’s house . . . You’re the only person with access to those shoes. That’s why the peeper has been striking on the same nights I’m working late . . . And why the Chamberlain boy couldn’t chase down the peeper on foot—you’re a cross-country runner. Now it all makes sense why you’re so certain I’m not the peeper, and you even went out of your way to hire Logan Anthony to prove it. You know I’m not guilty because it’s been you all this time.”

A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk, easily twenty-five witnesses to the public meltdown. Jeanette scanned the crowd, the wild look of a cornered animal in her eyes.

Pepper remembered running into Jeanette the same day she saw Pat at the grocery store. She’d told her about the new window and the other work they were doing. Was it possible that Pat was right?

She leaned over to Logan. “Shouldn’t you stop her from self-incriminating on the street?”

Logan shrugged. “Maybe, but technically I’m Pat’s attorney, not Jeanette’s. If she confesses, Pat’s off the hook and my job is done.”

Pepper frowned at her brother, but before she could respond, Jeanette stepped closer to her husband and spoke again.

“Patrick . . .” Jeanette said in a softer, sweeter tone. “Honey, please. Those aren’t the kind of accusations you throw around publicly.”

“I thought you said that was just a college phase, Jeanette.”

“I am not a lesbian, Patrick Kincaid!” Jeanette’s lips twisted in anger and her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “What I am is a scorned woman! All right, fine. Yes, it was me. I am the infamous Rosewood Peeper!”

An audible gasp rose up from the crowd, but the two of them could’ve been alone for all they cared. “I started wearing your work boots after the police got involved. I tried not to leave footprints, but if I did, I certainly didn’t want to leave a woman’s shoe print. I never thought they’d track your freakishly narrow boots back to you.”

“Jeanette, what were you thinking? Why would you do any of this?”

“I was thinking that my husband was cheating on me. If you were out with one of the single women in town, I wasn’t about to just sit on my rear end at home and wait for you to return. I was looking in the windows of women to catch your sorry, cheating ass in the act!”

Pat’s expression crumbled as his face fell into his hands. “I’m not cheating on you,” he insisted. “You did all this for nothing.”

A look of concern flickered across Jeanette’s face for a moment, but it was quickly wiped away with a stern frown. She was a woman who was far beyond believing her husband’s stories any longer. “I just can’t make myself believe you.”

“You didn’t find me in any of those women’s windows, did you? No. Because I’m not cheating.”

“Then why are you lying to me about it? Where are you going at night?”

Pat looked around. It was obvious he didn’t want to do this publicly, but the crowd wasn’t going to scatter just to suit him. If he wanted privacy, they should’ve started this fight after they got home.

“I’ve been working a second job for extra money. I didn’t want to tell you that.”

Jeanette frowned, not expecting the answer she’d gotten. “Extra money? Why? Has something happened at work? Are we in some kind of financial trouble?”

“No, nothing like that.” Pat planted a hand on his hip and shook his head. “It was supposed to be a surprise, which is why I was keeping it from you. I was trying to earn extra money to give you a special present for our anniversary.”

Jeanette stiffened. Her hand flew up to her mouth, muffling any words she might manage to say. This was obviously not what she thought he was going to say at all. At one time, Pepper would’ve said that a white lie to surprise a loved one couldn’t hurt anything. She would’ve been wrong. This surprise had gone horribly awry.

“While you were out prowling around in the dark looking for me in the arms of another woman, I was shoveling chicken shit so I could take you to Hawaii for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.”

Jeanette swallowed hard, her brows knit together. “We’re going to Hawaii?”

“No!” he shouted, waving his arms in the air in exasperation. “Now I’ve got to pay the damn lawyer’s fees and court fines. I told you we didn’t need an attorney, but you wouldn’t listen. I won’t be able to take you to McDonald’s for our anniversary now.”

“Surely Logan’s rates aren’t that stiff. He’s barely had time to represent you.”

“I’m not talking about my legal fees, Jeanette. I’m talking about yours.”

That was the last straw. Apparently through all of this, Jeanette had not quite grasped that she had publicly confessed to a crime and might go to jail for it. Pepper had no idea how serious it was and how much she could face in fines, but she imagined that it could easily eat up the couple thousand dollars Pat had squirreled away for their trip. Jeanette made the same connection, disintegrating into hysterical tears.

Even though he was angry, Pat rushed forward and pulled her into his arms. “Shhh . . . Jeannie . . .” he soothed, brushing his hand over her dark hair. “We’ll figure this out.”

“I’ve ruined everything!” she wailed.

Sheriff Todd came around the corner a moment later. Someone must have reported the disturbance, and possibly even the confession. Pepper elbowed her brother. “Do something.”

With a nod, Logan approached the sheriff and they spoke quietly for a few minutes. When it was done, Logan gestured for Pat and Jeanette to come with them back to the Sheriff’s Department.

Pepper felt awful for the two of them. A lack of communication and trust had ruined Pat’s plans and just might land Jeanette in jail. Hopefully Logan could get her a good deal, or plea-bargain her down to some community service or something. She wasn’t out there to get her jollies; she was trying to hunt down her missing husband.

Either way, it was over. There were no more weirdos prowling the streets of Rosewood at night. All things considered, Pepper was relieved that the person watching her wasn’t a creep. She didn’t particularly want Jeanette Kincaid spying on her, but she didn’t find what she was looking for, so no harm done. At least to Pepper.

It seemed plenty harm might have been done to the Kincaids’ marriage, though.

Chapter Seventeen

Grant opened the front door of his apartment, surprised to find his sister Maddie standing there. He thought at first maybe it was just a delusion caused by his pain medication, but he could smell the sweet spice of whatever baked treat she had in the box she was carrying.

“Maddie?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”

She wrinkled her nose, quickly erasing the frown lines with a dismissive smile. “I know you don’t think much of me, Grant, but you are my brother and you did almost get yourself killed the other day. I came to check on you and bring you some treats.”

Grant shrugged and took a step back so she could come inside. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had been at his apartment.

Maddie marched past him and sat the box of baked goods down on his kitchen table. “How are you feeling? You looked pretty rough yesterday at Sunday dinner.”

He hadn’t felt like going out, but he ran the risk of his mother coming to visit if he didn’t go. Blake picked him up, then brought him home the minute the meal was done. “I hurt. I take pills. I stop hurting. I sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. But you’re in luck, I haven’t taken a pill recently, so I should be fairly lucid.”

Maddie nodded, turning to search through his cabinets. “Have you eaten today?”

“Yes.” It was three in the afternoon. He would’ve starved long before now if he hadn’t managed to call Pizza Palace for delivery. “I had pizza.”

“Ugh,” Maddie groaned. “You know, I used to like that place until I moved into that house across the street. Now, I can’t stand it. Every time I go outside, it’s all I smell.”

Grant watched her take two plates down from the cupboard and carry them over to the table. The white box was sealed shut with the Rosewood Bakery sticker he was used to seeing on treats around town. “Is the bakery open again?”

“Not officially,” she said. “For now, Robin has asked me to keep up with existing orders. I had a wedding cake to do over the weekend, but the shop is closed.” She popped the seal and lifted the lid, exposing the glazed Bundt cake inside.

“What kind is that?” he asked.

“It’s an orange pound cake.” Maddie used a knife to cut two slices of cake and place them on the plates. “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”

Grant tried not to frown as he sat down at the table. That was his favorite, but he couldn’t believe she knew that. His older sister was never, ever this nice to him. He knew that he’d hurt himself in a pretty serious and spectacular way, but Maddie wasn’t the most nurturing person he’d ever met. “Milk, please,” he said, remembering that Pepper wanted him drinking it.

Maddie poured him a glass and got herself a bottle of water out of the fridge. She handed him a fork and sat down beside him. She watched expectantly as Grant took a bite. It was excellent—a mix of creamy butter cake, sweet icing, and tart orange flavor.

“It’s great,” he said with a smile.

Maddie stopped holding her breath and smiled back at him. “Oh, good. I changed the recipe up a little and I was hoping it turned out.”

“So you’re not just being nice, you needed a guinea pig?”

Maddie’s brow drew down in a frown. “Of course not. I knew you liked this recipe, though, so I thought you would be the best judge of the changes. I’m hoping . . .” She hesitated. “I’m hoping to buy the bakery.”

Grant swallowed a second bite and quickly chased it with milk. “Really?”

She nodded. “Robin wants a fortune for it, of course. Daddy is in negotiations with her, though, so I’m hopeful. If it goes through, I’m going to owe the man until the end of time. But . . .” she said with a hopeful expression lighting her face, “I’ll own my own bakery. That’s what I always wanted.”

That was true. Grant remembered the Christmas Maddie got an Easy-Bake Oven. She made him eat her creations, which at first were quite dreadful. Soon, she retired the pink oven and clung to Cookie’s leg until she taught Maddie to bake for real. By junior high, Maddie had an array of desserts in her repertoire and none of them tasted like feet the way the first few had.

“I’m sure it will go through. You’re a great pastry chef. The stuff you make is better than anything I’d ever eaten in Estelle’s shop before you came. Hell, it’s better than most of the things I’ve eaten, period.”

Maddie beamed, tasting her own cake and nodding thoughtfully. “This could use a little more orange zest, but you’re right, it’s great.”

They sat quietly for a moment eating their cake. There was an awkwardness between them as they ate. Although they were close in age, Grant and Maddie had never been close. Even then, she could fill the silence with her endless prattle about herself and whatever nuggets of gossip she’d collected. Today, she sat anxiously twirling her fork in relative quiet.

“Listen,” Maddie said at last, “I didn’t just come over to bring you cake.”

Grant figured as much. “Okay.”

“I came . . . to apologize.”

He sat back in his chair, stunned. Maddie had never apologized for anything as far as he knew. At least, not without their father making her do it. “Pardon me?”

“I know sometimes I can be . . . harsh and a little judgmental.”

“A little?” he choked.

Maddie frowned. “Are you going to let me do this or are you going to get all your digs in first?”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ve been unkind to Pepper in the past. I know that the two of you have gotten pretty serious and I wanted to apologize for things I’ve said about her. I don’t want that to become a problem between the two of us if you and she stay together.”

That sounded nice, but he knew his sister too well. “Does that mean you’re really going to be kind to her or are you just not going to say aloud the nasty things you’re thinking about her?”

Maddie’s mouth dropped open, at a loss for words. “I-I’m . . .” she stuttered. “I’m going to be nice to her in thought and deed. I promise.”

“And what about the rest of her family?”

Maddie sighed. “Yes, okay. I will not say anything bad about her or her family. I’m going to try to be more open-minded to people in town.”

“And you’re going to apologize to Pepper personally,” he added. “Apologizing to me doesn’t mean much.”

Maddie flung the brown waves of her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms over her chest. “This isn’t blackmail, Grant. Stop negotiating what I’m going to do.”

He shook his head. “You can say whatever you want to me and it doesn’t make a difference. It’s not just what you say about Pepper that bothers me, Maddie. It’s your whole attitude about people and how you think you’re better than everyone else. You think Blake appreciates the things you’ve said about Ivy in the past? She’s a big star now, but the way you treated her in school wasn’t cool. They’re getting married, so I can assure you he remembers your cruel taunts with Lydia Whittaker at your side. And so do I.

“Right now Pepper and I are just dating, but I want more. Who knows? She might be your sister-in-law someday, just like Ivy. If you’re really worried about things coming between all of us, you need to take a serious look at how you treat everyone, not just the people you feel are good enough. If you’re going to open your own business in Rosewood, you can’t alienate any potential customers with your attitude. And making that happen is going to take a hell of a lot more than a Bundt cake and an apology to me.”

“You mean it was Jeanette the whole time?” Their mother, Kate, looked aghast to hear the news as she sat across the dinner table.

Logan knew how she felt. This had been one crazy day, but in the end, he was pretty pleased with how everything had turned out.

“Yep. She was looking in all the windows of single women in town hoping to catch her cheating husband. All she got was a stiff fine and community service.”

Logan was able to negotiate a deal for submittal to the judge. Jeanette would provide a full written confession, detailing all the houses she watched and why. She wouldn’t serve any jail time or receive a sex offender designation, but she had to pay a forty-five-hundred-dollar fine—three hundred for each incident—and serve fifteen days of community service. When she went to court, the judge would hear her statement and decide where Jeanette would serve.

It turned out that Pat had saved exactly forty-six hundred dollars for their trip, so after they paid the fine in court, they would have a hundred dollars left for a nice anniversary dinner. Considering everything that happened, that was a satisfying ending for everyone involved.

“That’s just awful,” Pepper noted. “None of that needed to happen.”

“You’re right,” Logan agreed. “I never realized until today just how much a secret can undermine a happy family. Even well-meaning secrets. I’m sure Pat never dreamed that Jeanette would go to such lengths to find out what he was hiding from her. Twenty-five years together and they can’t trust each other. Pretty sad.”

He watched as the expression on Pepper’s face changed. She suddenly looked a little pained. Before he could ask about it, her eyes met his and the look faded away.

“Well, congratulations on your first criminal case in Rosewood!” Pepper lifted her glass of sweet tea. “Hopefully you made enough off the whole ordeal to pay your light bill.”

Logan smiled and accepted their praise, but in truth, he didn’t have the heart to charge the Kincaids for his services. He hadn’t really done much. The publicity from the case would hopefully bring in more clients and he needed that more than he needed a couple hundred dollars from them.

“It’s been quite the eventful week,” Vince pointed out. “They had that warehouse fire, the peeper was caught, and one of the Chamberlain boys set himself on fire.”

“He’s a fireman, Daddy,” Pepper corrected. “He didn’t set himself on fire, a car blew up.”

“I’m assuming he’s all right,” Kate said with a flat tone.

Logan didn’t like the Chamberlains any more than their mother did, but even that sounded a little harsh. He felt really awful about Grant’s accident. He couldn’t even imagine the pain of catching on fire. Just because he didn’t care for that family didn’t mean he wished them ill. Mama might feel otherwise. He’d gotten an earful from her when she found out he knew about Pepper and Grant and didn’t say anything. He’d gotten yelled at for nosing into his sister’s romance and yelled at for minding his own business. He couldn’t win.

“He’ll be fine,” Pepper answered. “I’m taking good care of him. His arm is healing nicely.”

Kate frowned over her mashed potatoes. “I still don’t like you spending time with him, Pepper.”

Pepper didn’t even bother to suppress her irritation as she spoke. “We’ve been over this, Mama. Anyway, we’re here to celebrate Logan’s case, not to rehash my sex life.”

“I just think that—”

“Let it go, Kate,” their father said with a resigned sigh. “Pepper is a beautiful, intelligent, and grown woman who can make her own decisions. I happen to think Grant is a fine boy.”

“Vince . . .” Kate warned, but Vince seemed unaffected by it. Instead, he turned to look at his daughter.

“Is he treating you well, Pep?”

Pepper looked at their father and nodded. “He is, Daddy. I know he has quite a reputation, but he isn’t at all what I expected. He’s funny and thoughtful and brave . . . Did you know he got hurt in the fire after saving a puppy? I think it’s pretty hard to find fault in a man willing to risk his life for a defenseless animal.”

Logan wasn’t exactly thrilled with his sister dating a Chamberlain, but he had to admit that she did seem happier lately. Her house was finally coming together, and as much as he hated to admit it, she and Grant did make an attractive couple. He would bite his tongue for now, but the minute Grant hurt his sister, Logan would see to it that he got to break a second Chamberlain’s nose in his lifetime.

“He’s still a Chamberlain,” Kate noted, as though that explained everything.

“There’s nothing wrong with being a Chamberlain, Kate,” Vince snapped, tossing his napkin on the table in irritation. “Just like there’s nothing wrong with being an Anthony. Your family and your blood don’t dictate who you are or what you’ll be. It’s just a name.”

Logan’s fork paused in midair. His parents rarely, if ever, argued. Their father was extremely laid-back; a feature that made it possible for peace in a household with a high-strung woman like their mother. Normally, their dad just let things roll, but for whatever reason, their father was irritated with their mother tonight.

“I don’t think that—” Kate started, but he cut her off.

“You know, Logan was right. He said secrets can destroy a family. I, for one, have had enough of them.” Vince got up from his half-finished plate and reached for his cane. “Logan, could you help me with something in the garage, please?”

Putting down his fork, Logan got up from the table and followed his father out into the garage. He wasn’t entirely sure what his father was talking about or what was going on, but he knew better than to question his dad when his tone was so sharp. When they got to his father’s domain, Logan shut the door. He was surprised to find his father choosing to sit on his rolling seat.

Logan glanced around, looking for a project in process, but the room was amazingly clean. “What did you need help with, Dad?”

“I need you to sit down and have a chat with me.” His father pointed to another seat nearby.

Logan sat down. “What’s the matter, Dad? You seem awfully irritated with Mama tonight.”

Vince shrugged. “I’m not irritated with her. Your mama is the same as she ever has been, especially where the topic of the Chamberlains are concerned. I’ve just got a lot on my mind tonight and I need to get a few things off my chest.”

“To me?”

Vince nodded. “I’ve never had a problem with the Chamberlains. Personally, I never had a lot of interaction with them. I put gas in their cars, changed their oil, and rotated their tires. Most of them tip well. We don’t exactly hang out in the same social circles, as you know. But your mother . . . she’s always had problems with them, or at least, with Norman. She let her prejudice spread to the whole family unfairly, I think. I’ve sat back and let her go on about it. I let her teach you and your sister to dislike their family. It didn’t seem to really impact your lives in one way or another. But that’s changed, and I’ve finally got to say something about it.”

In Logan’s mind, he’d somehow assumed that the family hatred of the Chamberlains was universal. But as he sat there thinking back over the years, he realized he’d never heard his father say a bad thing about them. Vince Anthony was a man of few words. When he had something important to say, he would speak his mind, but otherwise, he was happy to sit quietly and let Kate prattle on.

Vince leaned his elbows onto his knees, hunching over to press his fingertips together thoughtfully. “Your sister seems to really like Grant, but she’s conflicted about it. She’s resisting the idea of being happy with him because you and your mama are giving her a hard time. You’re competing with Norman at your practice and I’m sure things will heat up between you, but this dislike of the Chamberlain family as a whole has gone too far. So I want to end it. Right now.”

Logan frowned. How did he intend to end something he had no real control over? It wasn’t like his father could suddenly make Norman less of a prick. “What do you mean, Dad?”

“I mean, no more secrets. You were right, they slowly undermine a family and erode the trust that should be the bedrock of every good relationship. All of this was my idea, so I guess all of this is my fault. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I didn’t figure the truth would ever be relevant to anyone but your mother and me. But I was wrong, it matters. You’re a grown man now and you need to know the truth.”

Logan swallowed hard and looked into his father’s green-gold eyes. As a little boy, he’d always wanted green eyes, like his daddy, just the way Pepper had dark brown eyes like their mom. He hated that he had blue eyes. In that moment, with his father’s words hanging in the air, that difference seemed more significant somehow.

“I am not your biological father, Logan.”

The words were like a wrecking ball, swinging in and striking him in the center of his chest. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. He just sat there wheezing like an asthmatic as the panic swept over him. Vince wasn’t his father. How could they lie to him like that? Who the hell was his father, if it wasn’t Vincent Anthony?

His father . . . or whoever he was . . . reached out for Logan’s knee. The concern lining his face made the answer to that question painfully clear. Vince had just said that his mother had issues with Norman Chamberlain. The blue eyes. Did that mean . . . ?

“You can’t hate all the Chamberlains, because you are one. You’re Norman’s son, Logan.”

He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t think of the words to express how he felt in that moment. All he could do was listen as the words rushed at him.

“I have been by your mother’s side since she was three months pregnant with you. When Norman . . . stepped back from the situation,” Vince said as delicately as he could, “your mother came to me, so distraught. I had been in love with her for years, but for many reasons, it was never the right time for us. I decided this was our chance and I took it.

“I took care of your mother. We got married the next day at the courthouse and when we told people she was pregnant, everyone assumed the baby was mine. I never gave anyone a reason to think otherwise. I held her hand while she gave birth to you. I held you in my arms and gave you my name. I raised you as my son, because you are my son in every way that’s important to me. But you needed to know the truth and to know why your mother wanted to poison you against that family. I’m sorry that I’ve lied to you. We should’ve told you sooner, but your mother was afraid that you’d hate me and that the town would start gossiping about our marriage. She was trying to protect me and you, just as I protected her all those years ago.”

Protect him? They’d lied about something so fundamental in an attempt to protect him?

“Don’t hate the Chamberlains, Logan. Norman is a flawed man, but he is your father. And as for the rest of the family, none of them know the truth. They’ve never done anything to deserve the ire from our household. When you’re ready, I hope that you’ll embrace the Chamberlains as an extension of your family. And I hope that one day, you’ll have it in your heart not to hate me for lying to you, although you have every right to.”

When Logan looked up, there were tears in his father’s eyes. He realized then that his father was telling the truth. He was trying to protect and care for his family, Logan included. And despite everything Vince was saying to him, he still thought of him as his father. And he always would. He did what a father was supposed to do, even going above and beyond for a child that wasn’t even his. No matter how he felt about the news and how long he’d been kept in the dark about it, he wouldn’t allow his dad to torture himself about it a moment longer.

“I don’t blame you, Dad. Not at all. And I could never hate you.” He very specifically chose to call Vince by the name he’d always called him so he would know that biology be damned, Vince Anthony was his father. Norman Chamberlain was just a genetic contributor and a lazy one at that. “You stepped up and did what a lesser man wouldn’t do. I love you for that. I always will.”

Logan stood up and embraced his father. He could feel the weight on the smaller man’s shoulders virtually melt away until he seemed almost an inch or two taller. “I couldn’t have asked for a better man to raise me.”

“Thank you,” his father said as they pulled away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out one of the embroidered handkerchiefs he always had with him. He rubbed at his red, moist eyes and shoved it back into his pants. “Well, do you feel like you can go back inside and eat some fried chicken?”

Logan shook his head. “No, Dad. I think I need to go home and process all of this before I talk to Mama or anyone else. Tell them I’m sorry, but I’m going to head on home.”

Vince nodded and patted his shoulder. “Slip out the garage door. I’ll shut it behind you.”

Logan hugged his dad again and waited as the old, rickety track lifted the garage door. He waved as he walked out, heading for his car. He hated to leave like this, especially on a night he was supposed to be celebrating with his family. He didn’t blame his dad, or even his mother, but in this raw state, he might say something that sounded like he did. He could feel the heat of anger start to boil in his veins, and he didn’t want them to see that. His father had been trying to put an end to the animosity by telling the truth, but it hadn’t worked. Knowing the facts had just lit the fire of rage in Logan. He couldn’t anticipate a time when he could embrace those people as part of his extended family.

No, he didn’t blame his parents. He blamed Norman Chamberlain.

Chapter Eighteen

“Pepper, can you take a walk-in before we close up?” Sarah asked.

She looked up from the client she was currently finishing and saw Grant standing at the counter with a sheepish grin. He was looking a million times better than he had the last time she saw him. He’d spent Sunday afternoon with his family at his mother’s insistence. Monday night, she’d gotten wrapped up in the Kincaid drama and later, in her own family’s revelations. This was the first she’d seen him since Sunday morning. It was also the first she’d seen him since the truth came out about her brother’s paternity.

Even though Logan knew the truth now, and everything was out in the open as far as her nuclear family was concerned, it was still very much a secret. She felt better knowing she wasn’t lying to Logan anymore, but looking at Grant and seeing those same blue eyes just reminded her that she was keeping secrets from him. She hated that.

She forced a smile onto her face and answered her boss. It wouldn’t take long to trim Grant’s hair. “Sure. I’m almost done here.”

Miss Phyllis was just in for her biweekly curl set. The style had gone out of fashion with a lot of older ladies, but Miss Phyllis was hard-core on tradition. Every two weeks she came in for a shampoo, and then Pepper rolled her head in curlers and put her under the dryer. When it was done, she would look like a perfectly coiffed cotton ball.

She took her round brush and finished shaping up Miss Phyllis’s hair. That was her last appointment of the day but she was happy to stay a few minutes longer to check in with her patient. Pepper had been worried about him being alone during the day while everyone worked.

She saw Miss Phyllis out and escorted Grant back to the chair. “You didn’t ride your motorcycle over here, did you?”

“No,” Grant chuckled. “Blake took me to Doc Owens to get my bandages changed after he finished at school. I asked him to drop me here when we got done. I’m overdue for a haircut anyway. I’m starting to feel like a guy in a boy band. It was also the perfect excuse to come see you.”

“I’m glad you did.” And she was. Her nerves at seeing him had faded and a sense of peace had replaced it. She liked being with Grant, even though it was complicated.

When Pepper looked up, she noticed Sarah was counting up the drawer and getting ready to leave for the evening. “I’ll lock up, Sarah. You go on ahead.”

Her boss nodded, happy to duck out a little early. By the time Pepper had finished trimming Grant’s thick, dark brown hair, her boss was long gone.

“What did Doc Owens say about your arm?” she asked as she dusted off the trimmings from the back of his neck.

“He said it was healing well. He doesn’t think I’ll need any skin grafting, but he told me I should see a burn specialist in Birmingham after a few weeks just to be certain. Mack put the fire out pretty quickly, so I think he saved me from the worst of it.”

Pepper removed the plastic cape and hung it on the hook beside her station. Normally she would sweep up, but she decided she would just come in a little early and deal with all that in the morning. “I’m glad. What about your head?”

“Well, I’ll never score perfect on my SATs,” he said. “But I couldn’t do that before, so no great loss.”

Pepper swatted him playfully on the shoulder and helped him out of the chair. “Quit it.”

“He said it’s fine. When I fell and hit my head, I got a mild concussion and a knot on the back of my skull. The cut from the explosion didn’t cause any real brain trauma. I’ll get the stitches taken out of my forehead next week. I’m hoping I’ll be back at work soon after that.”

Pepper doubted it. “You’d better manage your expectations. I think you’ve got at least two weeks of rest ahead of you, whether you like it or not.”

“Probably.” He shrugged with a grin. He was pretty chipper about the whole scenario, all things considered.

She gathered her things and they locked up the shop. They both climbed into her SUV. “Where are we off to?” she asked. “Your place or mine?”

“Why don’t we pick up where we left off Friday before I set myself on fire? I was going to bring takeout and a movie to your place, so let’s do that. I’m getting tired of staring at my own boring walls.”

“Perfect.” They called in an order to Ellen’s and ran by the movie kiosk outside the Piggly Wiggly while they waited for their order. When it was ready, they returned to her place and settled in for a long, lazy evening together.

The food was good and the movie was funny. They curled up together on the couch to watch it. It was such a simple thing for them to do—the kind of thing a normal couple would do on a night in without giving it any real thought. And yet, for Pepper, it felt like more. It felt like Grant was supposed to be in her house all the time. It was as though he had been installed as a permanent fixture in her house during the renovations.

And she liked it that way.

The house was nice, but it seemed a little cold and solitary without him there. For a long time, her life had been compressed into such a tiny space that she didn’t notice how lonely she really was. Now that she had use of every square foot of her home, it was easier to see the empty places that Grant helped to fill. It was a scary thought, one that bothered her more and more as they spent time together. It shouldn’t be a problem. She should be happy that she was falling for a great guy, but there was a gorilla in the room that only she could see. She just knew that at some point, that big hairy ape of a secret would crash in and ruin everything.

That left her a choice: keep her distance and protect herself, or go with it and enjoy every moment she could to the fullest. She couldn’t stop this thing they’d started. Their relationship was picking up momentum, rolling downhill and taking her along for the ride. She didn’t want to get off of it, either. Pepper wanted Grant. She wanted to be able to throw all caution to the wind and give herself to him. The more time they spent together, the more she saw through his bad-boy façade. She pushed him to be himself. It seemed like letting some of that go made him happier.

She supposed the decision was already made. The battle was lost, future heartache be damned.

Snuggling against Grant’s chest, Pepper sat up and leaned in to gently kiss him. He was healing well, but she was still careful about what parts of him she touched.

“How are you . . . feeling?” she asked with a seductive curl of her lips as they parted from his.

Grant’s gaze met her own, a heat lighting the blue depths of his eyes. “Better every second. Unless you want to dress up in a sexy nurse costume, then I’m feeling poorly.”

Pepper laughed and placed her palm softly against his cheek. “Sorry, no nurse costumes.” Her fingers sought out the top button of his shirt and worked down until his hard chest was exposed. “But I can give you a very thorough sponge bath.”

Grant groaned at the thought, his eyes closing for just a moment as her fingertips strayed across his chest. “There’s only one problem with that,” he said. “I’d have to let go of you and there’s no way in hell I’m doing that. Not tonight, not ever.” Lifting his head, he pressed his mouth to hers and punctuated his bold words with an equally bold kiss.

Pepper leaned into him, sensing a difference in his touch. There was a demand in his kiss, a claiming of her. He’d just said he wasn’t letting her go and she could feel that in the way his fingertips pressed into her flesh and his tongue thrust into her mouth. She was his.

They shed their clothes as best they could without separating or brushing against his bad arm. Despite his injuries and the tension of the last week, there was a drive in them to come together. After potentially losing him in that accident, she wanted to touch him, feel him inside her again. When he pressed into her welcoming body, Pepper felt them slowly merge into one. She clung to him, their bodies perched precariously on the length of the living room sofa, as they rocked together.

Every thought, every worry seemed to fade away as Pepper lost herself in Grant. She rode the wave, reveling in his touch as every gasp of need was somehow amplified. When their climaxes hit, they hit together, holding tight to each other as the pleasure surged through them.

As the last of the energy drained from her body, she collapsed against Grant’s chest. Lying there with his heartbeat pounding in her ears, she realized they’d just made love. Not just sex. It was real, it was raw, and she could already feel it slipping through her fingers.

The bright beams of sunlight came through Pepper’s bedroom window and right across Grant’s eyes, pulling him out of a deep sleep. With a grumble, his eyes fluttered open and he looked around. Pepper was curled up beside him on her side. He stretched, rolled over to press himself against her back, and gently placed his bad arm over her waist. Leaning in, he nuzzled at her ear with his nose.

She made a soft sound of protest and wiggled against him as she reluctantly woke up. “Good morning,” Grant said with a voice rough from sleep.

“Good morning,” Pepper replied as she rolled onto her back to look at him. Her auburn hair was wild, a bright contrast to the pastel yellow pillowcase. Her eyes were squinting as she adjusted to the bright light and there were pink marks marring her pale face from smashing her cheek against the pillow.

She was a mess, and the sight of her made his chest tighten. Grant wanted to scoop her into his arms, hold her close and never let go. He’d meant what he said last night. He was amazed at just how quickly Pepper had gone from an object of desire he chased to someone he needed every day just as surely as he needed oxygen. When he got hurt, she was the only one he wanted by his side. And he wanted her there every day.

Maddie had been stunned by his confession the other day that Pepper might one day be a part of the family. In the moment, so was he. And yet the words had leapt from his mouth because it felt so right. The idea of him going back to prowling the bar for a lady to entertain him for the weekend was extremely unappealing. Pepper had ruined him for other women.

And yet, he was worried. Pepper, for all her smiles and kisses, didn’t seem to be as invested. He didn’t know what secret she was keeping, but he could tell it was eating at her. He could feel her hesitation in their interactions and he couldn’t help but think the two things were related. Things between them started changing after Valentine’s Day and her visit with her mother. He could tell she was still attracted to him, but that wasn’t enough. She was holding back, afraid to fully give in to their relationship and he was certain whatever she was hiding was the cause of it. Grant wasn’t sure how to be in a relationship that hovered in limbo while they both waited for the other shoe to drop. They needed to get past this if they were ever going to work out as a couple.

Pepper looked over at the clock by the bed stand and his gaze followed her. It was just before eight. “What time do you have to be at the salon?” he asked.

“A little before ten. That’s when my first client comes in and I need to clean up from last night’s late walk-in appointment.”

“Mmm . . .” he said thoughtfully, drawing his fingertip along her bare collarbone. “That’s very inconsiderate of him. Perhaps he can make it up to you by buying you breakfast.”

Pepper smiled. “I think that’s a good start.” She leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips. “I’m going to hop in the shower if you’d care to join me.”

Grant considered it but shook his head. As much as he liked that idea, he couldn’t get his arm wet and making love to her in the shower required a certain athleticism that he was lacking until he fully healed up. “You’ll be late for work,” he said. “And I’ve already promised you breakfast, so I’ll let you go it alone.”

With a smile, Pepper got up and went down the hall to the bathroom. Grant pulled his clothes together and waited for her in the living room. About a half hour later, they were both dressed and in Pepper’s car on their way to Ellen’s Diner.

They chose a booth, both of them savoring the diner’s strong black coffee while they waited for their omelets and pancakes. When their food came, Grant tried to focus on that instead of the wariness in Pepper’s eyes. She’d sat facing the door and kept watching out the front window for something or someone.

Was her family still giving her grief about dating him? He understood better why her mother was so concerned about the two of them, but he didn’t know how to prove to Miss Kate that he wasn’t his father. It seemed like Pepper was worried that she would run into one of them when she was with him. Before he could say anything, she would look at him and smile, all the worries fading away for a moment. He didn’t know what to think.

He let them finish eating before he worked up the nerve to ask her about it. He’d prefer to have this conversation over strong drinks instead of strong coffee, but he didn’t want to put this off any longer. “Are you okay?”

Pepper chewed her last bite and set down her fork on the mostly empty plate. “Of course I am.”

Grant’s brow drew together, his lips tightening. “There’s something wrong. You seem . . . tense. Wary. Tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“We’ve discussed this.” She glanced down at her phone.

“I know. But the issue doesn’t seem to be getting better. It’s getting worse. You’re anxious and sad. I hate seeing you this way, and I hate that I can’t help you because you keep shutting me out.”

“I need to get to the salon,” she said, pushing up from the table.

Grant sighed and put money on the table for Ruth. He followed Pepper to the front door, each footstep harder than the last as dread pooled in his stomach. This just wasn’t going to work. This secret was making her miserable and he couldn’t just sit around and watch it eat away at her. They paused on the sidewalk outside of the diner. He had intended to walk to his loft from here when they parted ways. But his intention shifted to finishing this discussion now that they were away from the prying eyes and ears of the diner patrons.

Before he could say anything, he noticed Pepper was once again looking over his shoulder at something.

When Grant turned, he saw Logan coming down the sidewalk toward the diner. Logan froze in his tracks when he saw them, his smile fading as he looked from Pepper to Grant. In an instant, the muscles in his neck visibly tensed.

Grant looked back at Pepper and saw the same reaction. She was strung as tight as a drum, looking at her brother with an expression that pleaded but bordered on terror. What the hell was going on?

“Morning, Logan,” Pepper managed with a feeble smile.

Logan slowly closed the gap between them, his jaw hard as a rock as he clenched his teeth. Grant had hoped that over time, her brother and the rest of her family would come to accept him, but the opposite seemed to have happened. He looked even angrier than he had when he saw Grant at Pepper’s house. His heated gaze flicked over Grant, then focused on his sister.

“I don’t understand you, Pepper.”

“Not here, Logan.”

“Yes, here,” he snapped. “This is more than you being stupid about who you date. Everything has changed. How can you continue to see him when you know the truth?”

“It’s got nothing to do with him,” Pepper argued. “We’ve been through this. My personal relationships have nothing to do with you.”

“It has everything to do with me because you’re my sister. And he’s . . .” Logan turned back to Grant, his face red with anger. “He’s who he is,” he finished. “Why don’t you just punch me in the face? It’s the same kind of betrayal.”

“Betrayal?” Pepper visibly flinched at her brother’s harsh words. “Don’t you think that’s a little much, Logan?”

“Not at all. Put yourself in my shoes, Pepper. How would you feel?”

Pepper sighed. “I know it’s hard,” she said, reaching out for her brother, but he pulled away. “Dad doesn’t want us fighting about this. He told you all those things to put an end to the fighting, not to make it worse.”

Grant didn’t know what “all those things” were, but it didn’t sound good. It made him wonder if whatever they were alluding to was the secret bothering Pepper. No matter what they were talking about, though, it didn’t call for Logan to take such a hard tone with Pepper. She didn’t deserve that.

“Well, that’s too bad,” Logan snapped with a bitter tone in his voice. “I’m not out to upset Dad, but I’m also not out to make other people happy. For years, people have been deciding what’s best for me, but not anymore.”

“Logan, you know that we—”

“Just forget it. Forget it,” Logan interrupted, holding his hands up. He looked over Grant again with visible distaste wrinkling his nose. He shook his head and looked back at Pepper. “Call me when you two break up—and you will. I really don’t want to see or talk to you until then.” Logan spun on his heel and marched around the corner of the diner.

Pepper started after her brother and then she stopped. With a heavy sigh, her shoulders collapsed and she dropped her face into her hands.

Grant came up beside her and put a comforting arm across her shoulder, giving her a moment to absorb everything that had just happened.

“Pepper?” he said at last.

She uncovered her face and looked at him. “Yeah?”

“What was all that about?”

She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t tell yo—”

“Stop,” he said, not letting her finish. “Don’t tell me it’s a secret and you can’t tell me. And don’t bother insisting it’s nothing because it’s not nothing. That fight just now sure as hell was about something. And it’s more than just some old family rivalry nonsense. What is going on? Tell me.”

“I . . .” she started, and then stopped.

Her dark eyes looked at his, pleading for mercy. She wanted him to drop this, but he just couldn’t. This was too important. This was serious, and she was keeping it from him. They couldn’t go on like this, pretending everything was okay while she was burdened with whatever this was.

“Trust me when I tell you that this kind of thing will slowly eat you up from the inside out. For twelve years, I carried around that secret about my father. And I never told anyone. No one. But I told you. You’re important to me, and sharing that with you was a big step. And it made me feel better. Getting that off my chest was like lifting a cinder block off my sternum. Let me do that for you.”

Pepper shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “You only told me that story because you were on medication.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. The drugs may have made telling the story easier, but he didn’t tell a secret he hadn’t wanted to share. “I told you because I wanted to tell you. I wanted someone else to understand what I was going through. And why honesty is so important to me.”

“That’s different, Grant.”

“How? How is it different?” he pressed.

“Because that was your secret to tell. Whether or not I wanted to tell you about this, I can’t. It’s not my secret. It’s not going to hurt me if the truth got out. But it would hurt other people. Hell, it might even hurt you. Don’t ask me to do that.”

How could that be possible? The truth never hurt as much as a lie in the end. “I know it seems like you can’t talk about it, but you have to, Pepper. How can we be together if we’re keeping secrets from each other?” Grant knew that it was now or never. He needed to push her to tell him. “We can’t be in a relationship if we can’t be honest with each other.” Surely that ultimatum would weaken her resolve.

Pepper’s gaze dropped to the sidewalk. All the fight seemed to have drained out of her, leaving her completely exhausted. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were lined with weariness and glassy with tears. “If that’s the way you feel, Grant, I guess we can’t.”

He narrowed his gaze at her. “What do you mean? That we can’t keep secrets?”

“No, that we can’t be in a relationship.” She shook her head and took a few steps back from him. “It was fun, Grant. I’m glad I finally gave in, but it’s causing too much drama in my life to let it continue. See you around.”

Pepper turned and started down the sidewalk. Every step she took made the gaping hole in his chest feel larger and larger. And yet, his feet were bogged down in cement. He couldn’t make himself chase after her.

His bluff had just blown up in his face. He pushed too hard and she went in a direction he never expected. He thought they had something more important than that, but he must’ve been wrong. If she would rather walk away from their relationship than tell him the truth, she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. And if that was the case, he was tired of pursuing her. He’d been chasing Pepper since he was fourteen years old and it was painfully apparent that she wasn’t interested in being caught. This was the second time she’d dropped him as if what they had meant nothing, so it must be true.

Grant had never felt this way about a woman before, so what did he know? Maybe all these feelings were just side effects of his medication mixed with heartburn from last night’s takeout.

He’d go by the drugstore to get some antacids on the way home. And from now on, if he wanted companionship and someone to wake up to every morning, he could get a dog. They didn’t lie or keep secrets. They were always happy to see you and weren’t conflicted about that fact. Yes, from now on, the warm body beside him in bed was going to have a wet nose and a wagging tail.

He doubted anyone else would be filling that vacant space for a very long time.

Chapter Nineteen

One appointment left in the day and then Pepper could go home. It had been a miserable few days since the blowup with Grant. Sitting alone in her house each night, she found herself looking around at all the things Grant had left his mark on—the walls he helped paint, the pictures he helped hang, the rug they picked out together . . . There were pieces of him everywhere she looked. The last few nights, she’d even slept in the living room to avoid the memories they’d made in her new bedroom. She wondered how long it would take before she could enjoy her house and not think about Grant. In the meantime, she went home each night and lost herself in television, chocolate, and wine until she fell asleep on the couch.

Glancing over at her appointment book, she groaned. This wouldn’t be an easy session. How could she have forgotten that her mother was coming in to have her hair done today? She had a standing appointment every two months for Pepper to touch up her roots, trim her ends, and give her a conditioning treatment to keep her curly hair from getting too frizzy. Of course, a lot had happened in the last two months since they booked this appointment.

She had managed to avoid her mother lately. After the awkward family dinner where Logan found out the truth, Pepper had tried to keep her distance. Doubly so after she broke up with Grant and Logan stopped talking to her. She didn’t need her mother being smug about it, or even trying to comfort her. Both would just make her angry.

The bell on the door chimed and when Pepper looked up, she saw her mother standing cautiously in the doorway. Her dark eyes were lined and wary as she pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head. It looked like they were both dreading this appointment today.

Pepper pasted on a smile and called her mother back to the chair. The sooner they started, the sooner they’d finish. “Hi, Mom.”

Kate stowed her purse and settled into the chair. “Hey, baby.”

Pepper wrapped the cape around her and tried to focus on her work instead of the concerned pinch of her mother’s brows. “Are we touching up the roots today or doing something more dramatic?”

“I’ve had enough drama in my life the last few days,” she answered. “Let’s just cover the grays it caused.”

“Okay,” Pepper said. “I’ll just run in the back and get your color mixed up. Do you need anything?” She started to pull away, but her mother’s hand shot out from under the cape and grasped her wrist.

“I need you to sit down for a second and talk to me.”

Pepper glanced nervously at Sarah. Her client had just left and she was on the phone. As if she sensed the tension, Sarah looked at her for a moment, then disappeared into the back room. Bless her. “Here?” she asked.

Kate nodded. “Please, Pepper. I heard about what happened between you and Logan the other day.”

“I don’t really want to talk about that, Mama.”

“Pepper—” she pleaded.

“No, there’s no point. Grant and I broke up, so there’s no need to worry any longer about your children fighting or of me falling into the wicked clutches of the Chamberlains. I’ve lost the best relationship I’ve ever had because of your choices, so I hope you’re happy.”

“Happy?” Kate looked at her with an expression of pure disappointment. “Why on earth do you think any of this has made me happy? My kids aren’t speaking to each other, or to me. My daughter is miserable and I worry my son is on the verge of challenging his biological father to a duel in the square. Do you think this is how I wanted things to turn out for my children?”

Pepper frowned. “No, probably not,” she admitted, slumping down into Sarah’s styling chair.

“Despite what you might think, I didn’t set out to ruin your life, Pepper. The minute I got pregnant, I was trapped in a no-win situation. Norman was out of the picture and I was left with a handful of unpleasant choices and no one I could turn to but your father. When he said he would marry me and we would raise the baby as his, it was like a last-minute pardon. I didn’t think about how it would play out thirty years later, and for that, I’m sorry. But I wasn’t worried about what Logan would think if he found out the truth years later. I was just trying to get through those next few weeks and months.

“If I could go stand in the square and announce my sins to the whole town to make you and Logan happy, I would. I’d gladly accept my punishment for being young and stupid. But I can’t. This isn’t my choice anymore. It’s Logan’s choice. You were right when you insisted he had to know the truth. But now that he does, what happens is up to him. I will support whatever decision he makes. Just as I’ll support any decision you make.”

Pepper glanced at the doorway to the back room, but there was still no sign of Sarah. She knew her mother was right. It was easy to blame her, but in the end, she knew her mother had done the best she could with what she was given.

“That includes making the choice of dating a Chamberlain. I’m sorry I gave you so much grief about that. You’re a smart girl. You’re not going to make the same mistakes I did. I should’ve been more supportive.”

Pepper’s gaze searched her mother’s face for signs she was lying, but found only sincerity there. “Thank you for saying that, Mama.” That was a huge concession on her part.

“I’m sorry to have to say it too late. I hate that you and Grant split up. You seemed really happy with him, despite the toll it took on you because of your pigheaded family.”

Pepper shook her head, dismissing all the second thoughts she’d had since their fight ended. “That’s okay. It’s better this way,” she insisted.

Kate’s mouth drew tight with concern as she watched her daughter. “Do you really believe that, Pepper?”

Pepper looked at her mother with no answer coming immediately to mind. She supposed that meant she didn’t believe it. Her chest started to tighten uncomfortably at the thought and she was suddenly on the verge of tears. She didn’t want to cry at work. She’d depended on staying busy to get her through this.

Sarah walked back into the room just then. Taking this as her cue to end the conversation, Pepper stood up. “I’m going to get that color mixed up. I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into the back room before she completely lost it.

“Let’s go for a walk, big man.”

Grant latched the leash to the collar of his new dog, Chopper. After he and Pepper broke up, he’d gone the next Saturday to hunt down a more suitable companion. When Grant saw his name on the cage, he knew that was his dog. Only a guy who drove a Harley could appreciate a dog named Chopper. He was a mutt of the finest pedigree, adopted from the animal shelter in Pell City. He was part hound dog, part whatever got over the fence, with long floppy ears, rusty red fur, and sad brown eyes.

He reminded Grant a little of Pepper, actually, but he wouldn’t hold that against the dog. The best part was that he could take Chopper with him to the fire station. A few years back, they’d had a Dalmatian named Hydrant. Hydrant retired and now stayed at home with Paul’s kids. When Grant mentioned getting a dog to Mack, he’d worried about leaving him home during his long, twelve-hour shifts. Mack had told him that he was welcome to bring the dog along once he was cleared to come back to the station. Grant still had a few more days before he could return to work.

On the plus side, the bandages were gone and he didn’t have to take any more pain medication. The stitches were removed from his head and he was almost feeling back to normal.

Well, except for the giant, aching hole in his chest that the antacids didn’t relieve, and that had nothing to do with the accident.

Grant and Chopper went down the stairs and started their evening stroll through downtown Rosewood.

They started up Second Avenue toward the square and the park. It was slow going at first, as Chopper stopped to sniff and christen every tree, rock, tire, and post. They were stopped to investigate a tree across the street from Anthony’s Auto Shop when he noticed the lights were still on in the office. The shop had closed for the day a while ago. Perhaps Pepper’s mom was still working, although that was Vince’s truck, not Kate’s sedan parked in the back.

He must be feeling good enough to return to work. Good for him, Grant thought. He knew that Pepper worried a lot about her dad. About her family, in general. He still didn’t know what was going on between her and her brother, what she couldn’t talk to him about, but he figured it probably had something to do with a family affair. In retrospect, he should’ve realized that and respected it. As much as he pushed for honesty, he should know that not everyone wanted to air their dirty laundry. He certainly wasn’t about to stand on a street corner with a sign that read NORMAN IS AN ADULTERER.

Chopper started pulling on the leash, so Grant continued on down the street. It wasn’t until he saw Vince come out of the back of the garage and wave at him that he stopped again. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would say to Pepper’s father, but it would be rude to ignore him.

He crossed the street, stopping beside Vince’s truck. He was looking a lot better than he had before, although he still had the cane.

“Evening, Mr. Anthony.”

“Evening, Grant. I noticed you have a fine new companion.”

“This is Chopper. I got him from the shelter a few days ago.”

Vince bent down to scratch the enthusiastic dog behind the ears. “That’s a good-looking dog. Are you two off to something important?”

“No, sir. We’re just off for a stroll to get out of the house. It’ll be a few more days before I’m back at work and I’m getting stir-crazy.”

“Do you think you could help me with something, inside? You can bring Chopper in, too.”

“Sure thing.” Grant followed Pepper’s father into the back door of the garage. They walked through the parts room, past the actual garage where they worked on the cars, and into the office where Kate took care of all the paperwork for the business.

“Have a seat,” Vince said, gesturing to the guest chair.

Grant sat down, curious as to what his chore might be. There wasn’t much he could do in the office, especially sitting.

“I wanted to chat with you, son.”

Alarm bells started going off in Grant’s mind, but there was nothing he could do about it. Trap or no, he couldn’t be rude to Mr. Anthony. And he couldn’t run, because Chopper had just curled up to take a nap on his foot. “What about, sir?” he asked, knowing full well it probably had to do with his breakup with Pepper.

“Well, my wife came home from her hair appointment the other day and gave me a real earful. She told me that you and Pepper had called it quits. I think that’s a shame.”

Grant’s brow went up slightly in surprise. “I thought your family would be celebrating to hear the news.”

“Bah,” Vince said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Not all of us are worried about all that. My concern, first and foremost, is for my daughter. May I ask what happened? She wasn’t very chatty on the topic, at least to her mother.”

This was the perfect example of where his policy of honesty might get him in trouble, but he couldn’t help himself. “Well, sir, I try to live a very transparent life. There are enough people in the world who lie about important things and I decided I wouldn’t be one of those people.”

“Sounds noble,” Vince noted.

“The problem is that I expect the same honesty from others in my life, especially in the woman I . . .” Grant suddenly wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. The words that very nearly rolled off his tongue were “the woman I love.” That was a frightening prospect, and a thought he hadn’t allowed to slip into his mind before. “In the women I date,” he corrected. “Something was bothering Pepper. She’d been pretty distant since Estelle’s funeral. When I asked her, she said she couldn’t talk about it. She got in a fight with her brother the other morning and when I pushed her about it, she just ended things between us.”

“I’ve always found Pepper to be very forthright,” her father noted. “If she was keeping something from you, she probably had a good reason for it.”

“She wouldn’t elaborate either way. All she would tell me was that it wasn’t her secret to tell and that all things considered, maybe us dating was a bad idea.”

“And you let her go?”

Grant’s jaw tightened at her father’s assessment. It made him sound cowardly, although he supposed that’s how it looked. And felt, after the fact. “Well, sir, this is the second time she’s dumped me. My ego wasn’t up for a third round. I’ve already had a pretty crappy few weeks.”

“And how are you feeling now?” Vince asked.

Grant got the distinct impression he wasn’t talking about his arm. “I’m feeling stupid. I let my self-righteousness get in the way of the best relationship I’ve ever had. And yet, how could she really care about me if she’s keeping things from me? Whatever it was, it was important to her. Logan had threatened to stop talking to her over it. The whole thing really seemed to throw her for a loop, but she wouldn’t confide in me. What chance do we have if she can’t talk to me about things?”

Vince nodded thoughtfully. “Communication is important—even more important than attraction, because that fades, but communication has to stay strong.” He sighed and ran his hand over the short stubble of his beard. “Son, how do you feel about my daughter? Is this serious?”

“It was. I was really thinking she might be . . . the one.”

“Do you love her?”

Grant swallowed hard. That was a huge thing to say. He’d never said it to anyone outside of his family before. And yet, the answer that nearly leapt from his mouth when he was asked was yes. “I’ve never been in love before, Mr. Anthony, so it’s hard for me to answer that question. I know that there’s this empty feeling in my stomach that won’t go away no matter how much I eat. I miss her smile and her laugh. I wake up and reach for her, only to have my hand continue across the cold, empty mattress. I can still feel her in my arms and smell the scent of her shampoo. The idea that I might never hold her again . . . it makes my chest ache just to think about it.”

Vince nodded and clapped Grant on the shoulder. “Afraid that’s love, son.”

All Grant could do was nod as the revelation sunk in. Love. He was in love. With the woman who dumped him. Good job, Chamberlain.

“Since you love my daughter, I’d like to tell you something important—what she’s keeping from you, actually. If you two are meant to be together, this shouldn’t be a barrier. She was telling the truth when she said that it wasn’t her secret to tell. It’s Logan’s secret. And mine, in a way. But it’s also going to impact you. Once I tell you, things will change, you understand? If you’d rather not know, I’ll shut my mouth, but I think it will help you understand where she’s coming from.”

It would impact him? Pepper had said something like that before, but how could something like that have anything to do with him? “Tell me,” he said, before he lost his nerve. If he didn’t find out now, he’d always wonder what she was hiding from him.

“Now, this is not public knowledge. I’m telling you in confidence as a part of my family, you understand?”

Grant nodded, getting more and more anxious about what he was about to hear.

“Logan is not my biological son. Pepper recently learned this and it’s really bothered her. She knew even before Logan did, so it was a terrible burden for her to carry. It will probably be a greater burden for you to carry for a similar reason because you can’t tell anyone about it.”

Great. Another big secret he had to carry around. He wasn’t thrilled, but he’d do it for Pepper. He wasn’t entirely certain why Logan’s paternity was an issue for him, but . . . Grant’s eyes widened. The pieces slowly came together, making his stomach start to ache.

Pepper’s mother hated his family, his father in particular. She insisted that Pepper stay away from him because he would just use her. Logan had recently learned the truth and hated his family more than ever. If Mr. Anthony wasn’t Logan’s father . . .

“Logan is your half brother, Grant. Kate got pregnant with Norman’s child before your parents got engaged.”

That. That was the piece that made everything make sense. And at the same time, made everything seem so much worse. His brother. Logan was his brother.

“You okay, Grant?”

“Yes, sir,” Grant nearly choked out the words. “That wasn’t what I was expecting when I came in here tonight.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t. And I’m sorry to dump that information on you, knowing that you’ll have to keep it from your family. Maybe one day, Logan will decide that he wants people to know who his biological father is. I don’t know what he’s going to do.”

“I can imagine that’s a hard decision to make, especially in a small town like ours.” Another secret to eat at him. And all because of his stupid father. Grant felt so naïve. He knew his father had been spreading himself around for years. Why hadn’t it ever occurred to him that he might’ve fathered a few illegitimate children along the way? “Does my father know about him?”

Vince nodded. “He wasn’t too interested, to put it simply. But aside from him, Kate, Logan, Pepper, myself, and now you, no one else knows the truth. You understand why Pepper had to keep it from you?”

“I do. If I were in her position, I don’t know what I would do. Probably the same thing.” The pained expression in her eyes as she pushed him away was all the more meaningful to him now. She sacrificed their relationship to protect her family. As she should have.

“May I ask what you plan to do now, son?”

That was a really good question. He opened his mouth and answered with the first thing that came to mind. “I plan to ask for your daughter’s hand, sir.”

It surprised both of them. Even Chopper lifted his head to look up at him.

“I’ve let her get away twice, Mr. Anthony. I don’t intend to make that mistake a third time.”

The older man watched him for a moment, then slowly nodded in consent. “See that you don’t.”

Pepper opened the envelope with her paycheck and nearly choked when she saw the total. “Uh, I think we’ve got a very serious typo on my paycheck here, Sarah.”

Sarah smiled and shook her head. “Nope. I assure you it’s correct.”

Pepper looked back down at her check with the amount that was about four thousand dollars more than she was expecting. “There’s no way I did this much in two weeks. It’s been slower than usual. I had two clients cancel and I sold almost no product.”

Her boss planted a hand on her hip and looked at her with an amused smirk. “But some of the product you did sell was to a very wealthy and particular client. One who dumped water on your lap and cost you four grand, if you’ll recall.”

Pepper frowned. “I don’t understand. My appointment with Miss Adelia was a month ago. She stopped in last week, but all she did was buy some of that violet shampoo.”

“Yes, that’s all she bought, technically, but our receipts always have the line for tips and she filled it out generously.”

“Four grand? She really meant to tip me four grand?”

“Yes,” Sarah said with a serious nod of her head. “Believe me, I double-checked before she left the store.”

“She left me a tip that huge and you didn’t think to mention it? She bought that shampoo last week.”

“I know.” Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s been killing me, but she swore me to secrecy. She wanted it to be a surprise for you. She told me she felt so bad about the whole thing at the auction but was glad it brought you and Grant together in the end. You must’ve been right when you said you thought she was trying to fix you two up.”

“The surprise is on her,” Pepper said bitterly. “I wonder if she knows Grant and I broke up pretty much right after she did this.”

Sarah frowned and got her purse out from under the counter. “I don’t know, but I don’t think it would’ve made a difference to her. I’m sorry you two didn’t work out.” She put a comforting arm around Pepper and squeezed her shoulders. “I liked the idea of you and Grant.”

“Me, too,” Pepper replied and looked back down at her massive check. “But I’ll live. I’m going to go deposit this bad boy before someone changes their mind about it and then I’ll keep myself busy working on the house. Do you want me to take the deposit?”

“Sure.” Sarah handed over the pouch. “Are you really okay?”

Pepper shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”

Her boss didn’t press any further and for that, she was thankful. They locked up the salon and Pepper started around the square to the bank. She needed to get there before they closed. That massive check was burning a hole in her pocket. From there, she headed up Main Street to pick up a bottle of wine and a few other things at the grocery store. She put Miss Adelia’s tip to good use, splurging on a good bottle of white zinfandel and a carton of Twinkies. Pat Kincaid smiled at her as she left the store, an expression of sympathy on his face. She imagined that over the last few days, copious amounts of wine and desserts might’ve been consumed at his house, too.

She was on her way back to her SUV when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw Logan jogging down the sidewalk after her. She hadn’t seen him since their blowup outside Ellen’s. She’d given up her relationship with Grant to protect her brother’s secret, but that didn’t mean she liked it, or wanted to look at Logan and listen to his tirades about the evil Chamberlains. Still, there was no avoiding him.

“Let me help you,” he said, taking the sack of groceries from her hands.

Without acknowledging him, she turned and they walked down the street together to her car. They cut across the expansive lawn that connected the Rosewood Library with the courthouse in the center square of town. Every minute Pepper could shave off this potentially uncomfortable conversation, the better.

“I heard about you and Grant,” he said as they neared her SUV.

Hitting the button, she popped her hatch and lifted it. “Is that why I’m fit to speak to now? Because I’m no longer tainted by the touch of the Chamberlains?”

Logan sighed and put her wine in the trunk. “Of course not. Listen, I’m sorry I said that. I haven’t been handling all of this well and I took it out on you. You didn’t break up with Grant for me, did you?”

She turned to look at her brother. “No. I wouldn’t have done that. The drama ended the relationship all on its own.”

“Pepper, you know this isn’t your problem, right?”

That stopped her short. “What do you mean?”

“Me, Dad, the secret. Now that I know the truth, it’s my issue to deal with, not yours. You don’t need to carry this cross on your shoulder anymore. Frankly, it really isn’t even your business.”

“Not my business?” If it wasn’t her business, why had it managed to ruin everything she’d built over the last few weeks? It sure as hell felt like her business.

“Yes. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but whatever happens from here on out has nothing to do with you. So do me a favor and just stay out of it.”

Pepper had expected an apology for Logan’s rude behavior the other morning, but this was anything but. She didn’t even know what to say. “You don’t have to be so mean-spirited about it, Logan.”

“I’m not trying to be mean-spirited. I’m trying to get these mental obstacles out of your way so you can admit that you’re in love.”

She gasped, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I certainly do. You love Grant. There’s no accounting for taste, but you do. I’m not going to let you co-opt my issue and turn it into a reason not to be with him. I’ll deal with Norman my way. In the meantime, you need to talk to Grant and tell him the truth.”

“The truth about you?”

He shook his head. “The truth about you. I don’t think he’ll give a hoot about my secret once you tell him yours.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” Pepper crossed her arms defensively over her chest. “He wants honesty, Logan, and I can’t be honest about everything with him. You’re his half brother. It isn’t inconsequential to him.”

“Then tell him.”

“What?” Had everyone gone mad? “No. You just said it wasn’t my business.”

Logan gripped Pepper’s shoulders in his hands. “I want you to be happy. If you have to tell him, tell him. I’m okay with that.”

Pepper had thrown herself on her sword to protect this secret, and now it seemed like it was for nothing. “Are you kidding me?”

Logan leaned in and wrapped his arms around her. Pepper gave into the embrace, the emotions and the confusion starting to undermine her resolve. “Just think about it,” he whispered into her ear before pulling away. “I don’t want it on a billboard or anything, but I don’t want to be the roadblock to your relationship, either.”

Pepper nodded, not quite sure what she was going to do with this. She was hopeful she’d find the answer in the bottom of the wine bottle. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Logan nodded and took a step back. “Okay. Call me if you need anything. We’re supposed to work on your garden soon, right?”

Pepper nodded. That was the plan, and she’d started for some busywork, but really that was the furthest from her mind. “Bye, Logan,” she said, climbing into her car.

She sat there for a minute behind the steering wheel, not starting the engine or even bothering to put on her seat belt. She was stunned by their entire conversation. She’d thought a miracle occurred when her mother told her she would support her dating Grant again. Now Logan had just given her permission to fix what was broken in her relationship with Grant. All the barriers were suddenly lifted.

What exactly would she do about it? Did she want to get involved with him again? There was no guarantee that the drama and angst that had driven them apart would stay at bay forever. When the truth came out, Grant might be the one caught in between as his family dealt with the truth about Logan. Being with him wouldn’t be easy.

Then again, she had to do something. She couldn’t just sit back and watch Grant date other women. She couldn’t resign herself to the ranks of the other women in Rosewood who had loved and lost the town bad boy.

Loved. She was a damn fool, but in that moment she realized her brother was right. She had fallen in love with Grant Chamberlain. Logan wanted her to go to him and tell him how she felt, and she wanted to, but she didn’t know if it would even matter. When she’d broken it off with him, he didn’t chase after her or try to change her mind. Even if she swallowed her pride and confessed the truth, he might slam the door in her face. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

She started the car and considered whether she should drive straight to his loft and spill her guts. She could do it . . . right now . . . but she was a coward. Too much had happened too quickly. She needed to think. Strategize. Instead, she made her way to Daisy Drive and went home. Maybe after a glass of wine, the path forward would be clearer.

Or she might feel braver.

Chapter Twenty

Restless wasn’t the word for what Grant was feeling. It didn’t matter that it was after ten at night, he couldn’t still his brain. Even Chopper couldn’t relax tonight. The hound dog kept pacing through the loft, whimpering at the door, then circling back through the room. The poor dog was probably feeding off Grant’s anxious, confused energy.

He’d left the garage today feeling like a man with a plan. He was determined to win Pepper back, but by the time he got home, he wasn’t quite as certain how to do it. Should he march over to her house and demand that she see him? Send her flowers with an apology? He honestly didn’t know how to win a woman back. He’d never tried.

What he did know was that he felt like crap. Not just because of what he’d put Pepper through, but because of the truth she was forced to hide from him. He couldn’t help but feel sympathy for her brother—his brother—Logan’s situation. The existence of another brother or sister they never knew about should’ve been little surprise to Grant, of all people. He knew what his father was capable of.

And yet, the reality of those repercussions was harder to face. He had it easy. How difficult had life been for Logan compared to the rest of the Chamberlain children? Grant had no doubt that Mr. Anthony was a good father to his adopted son, but under different circumstances, Logan could be working in the family firm after going to a prestigious law school instead of trying to scrape up customers and compete with the mighty Chamberlain machine their father operated.

It made Grant despise his father even more. He’d known about Logan from the beginning. He’d deliberately turned his back on his own child. All the years of animosity between their families, the loss of his relationship with Pepper, even Blake’s broken nose was caused by his father’s selfish actions.

None of those thoughts were helpful with the mood he was in. He was just stewing in the negativity with no outlet for it while he was cooped up in his apartment. Grant got up and picked up his police scanner from the bookshelf. He’d listened to it on and off since he’d been out of work to keep tabs on what was happening. Perhaps listening in on his coworkers’ antics would be a happy distraction tonight. He turned it on and sat down on the couch. Chopper jumped up beside him to lay down and rested his head on Grant’s lap.

At first, there wasn’t much going on. Typical Rosewood. Grant could hear his brother talking to dispatch as he cruised the streets looking for mostly nonexistent crime. Once Jeanette Kincaid admitted to being the peeper, the excitement in town immediately died down. Now all the sheriff’s men could go back to escorting funeral processions and helping ladies change flat tires on the highway. He kept listening, but nothing was going on at the fire station to distract him, either.

Sometimes Grant missed working in Birmingham. He’d spent two years training to be a firefighter and working in the sprawling southern city. There were days that were crazy and exhausting and dangerous, but he was certainly never bored. He never made himself crazy with silence and his own thoughts. Then again, it wasn’t home. Home was Rosewood, a sleepy southern town that didn’t have crazy crime rates or devastating fires all the time. That was a good thing. At least until you realized that whenever something did happen, it would likely affect someone that you knew. Like Estelle.

A loud chirp sounded on the radio, followed by the sound of the 911 dispatcher’s voice. “Attention, Fire and Rescue station nine. We’ve got a report of a house fire in downtown Rosewood on Daisy Drive. Neighbors called reporting smoke and visible flames at 302 Daisy Drive across from Whittaker’s restaurant. Please respond.”

Grant jerked to attention. Pepper lived right near the restaurant. What was her address? He didn’t remember for certain, but the little older houses were very close together. If one caught fire the others could easily do the same. He rushed over to his window to see if he could see anything. It was hard in the dark, but he could see the glow of flames against the trees and the neon sign of Whittaker’s nearby. If it wasn’t her house, it was one to either side.

Travis and Mack were working the night shift. The radio came alive with various voices responding and talking back and forth about details as the Fire and Rescue squad loaded up and rushed to the scene. Someone, it sounded like Mack, asked if the house was occupied and how many people could potentially be inside. The dispatcher replied that the reporter was unsure, but the resident’s car was at the home. Only one known resident at the address. That meant Pepper or Phyllis.

Grant knew he wasn’t supposed to be working, but he couldn’t just sit at home, especially knowing it might be Pepper’s house. All the firefighters in Rosewood were on call for a major fire. He could hear the dispatch calling in Paul and Kyle to report to the scene, then radioing a nearby fire station for backup. He had to go.

He leapt to his feet, grabbing his keys, and raced for the door. Chopper barely had time to cock his head curiously before Grant was out of the loft and rushing for his truck. He was only a few blocks away. He could smell the smoke in the air as he got into his truck. His tires left rubber behind as he peeled out of the parking lot and down Second Avenue toward Pepper’s house.

He couldn’t get close. The ladder truck and the rescue truck were there when he arrived, along with the ambulance and a squad car. The street was filled with vehicles and flashing lights, so Grant parked at the restaurant across the street. Rushing from his truck, Pepper’s house finally came into view. He’d been silently praying it wasn’t hers, but he was disappointed. Pepper’s tiny house was lit up like a torch. The whole back of the house was burning with the flames reaching for the old oak trees that surrounded it. He dashed across the street, pushing aside onlookers and searching for Pepper.

Everyone was still unloading equipment and suiting up when he arrived. He rushed through, jumping over hoses and trying to ignore the sickening crackle of the fire eating away at Pepper’s dream house. The ambulance crew was standing by, they didn’t have any patients. Did that mean Pepper was still inside?

“Pepper!” he screamed, but he didn’t see her anywhere. Her little SUV was in the driveway. She was home. Where was she?

“Grant? What the hell are you doing here?” Mack rushed over, trying to keep him back. “You’re still out on medical leave.”

He couldn’t care less about that. Mack should know that he would show up for a big fire, especially when it was Pepper in danger. “Where is she, Mack? Is she still in the house?”

“We don’t know, we just got here. We think she’s inside. Travis is suiting up to go in.”

Grant looked over to where Travis was quickly pulling on the fire-resistant jacket. Every second that ticked by was one too many if she was in the house. He broke away from Mack’s hold, rushing across the yard and leaping up the front stairs. He could hear voices shouting at him from the street, but he didn’t care. He felt the handle and it was still cool. Leaning back on one foot, he kicked in the door with his heavy boot. It splintered and flew open, the thick clouds of black smoke billowing toward him.

He covered his mouth and nose with his shirt and crouched down where the air was clearer. He moved quickly through the doorway into the living room. The fire hadn’t reached that space yet. It was the bedrooms in the back that were burning. Was Pepper asleep in bed when it started?

That’s when he heard a woman cough. The sound wasn’t coming from the hallway but from the couch. Up ahead, he saw a bare foot dangling from the sofa. Thank God, she’d been out here. He rushed forward, finding her limp body lying there. She’d likely passed out from the smoke. He scooped her up and carried her out, nearly colliding with Travis on his way out.

“Is there anyone else inside?” Travis asked.

“There shouldn’t be. She lives alone, no pets. Just get the fire put out.”

Travis nodded and gestured back at the crew to bring on the hoses. Grant carried Pepper through the front yard, all the way across the street, and onto the grass of the house across the street.

The fire truck from Ashville pulled up then, and three guys jumped out to help. People were running everywhere, but all Grant cared about was Pepper. Her body was still limp, but she was alive. He felt at her throat for a pulse and found it, albeit weak. Her skin was covered in black soot, her clothes smudged and gray.

Isaac rushed up to them with his paramedic’s kit. “Is she breathing?”

“I heard her cough in the house, so she was,” he said.

Reluctantly, he sat back on his heels and let Isaac do his job. Adam, another one of the paramedics, joined him, pushing Grant completely out of the picture.

He stepped back, tightly hugging himself and barely breathing. She would be okay. She had to be okay. There wasn’t another option. He was a firefighter. There was no way in hell he’d allow the woman he loved to die in a damn house fire.

Especially since he hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell her that yet.

“Pepper?”

Pepper’s throat felt like she’d gargled with gravel. Her chest was tight. She had a funky taste on her tongue like she’d chewed up a charcoal briquette. There was something odd covering her nose and mouth and she could hear sirens and people shouting around her. What the hell was going on?

“Pepper, can you hear me?”

She forced her eyes open and looked up at the two men hovering over her. Beyond their faces was the night sky. She was outside. Why was she outside? She reached for what was on her face, pulling away what looked like an oxygen mask. “What’s going on?” she managed to ask before launching into a long coughing fit. When she was done, she fought to sit up, but the uniformed men insisted she stay flat for now.

“We’re getting you some water,” one of the men said as the other disappeared. “Put that mask back on, it will help you breathe.”

The gap was quickly filled by someone else. It took her a moment to realize that it was now Grant hovering there, holding her hand. He was smudged with black soot and the expression on his face was absolutely heartbreaking. He looked nearly devastated. He’d had that same look for a moment as she’d walked away from him last week. It had quickly faded to indifference, but tonight, it was followed by relief.

“Pepper? You’re okay!” he shouted.

“What’s going on?” she croaked through the mask.

The two men looked at each other and the other nodded at Grant. “Your house caught on fire, Pepper.”

“Oh my God,” she shouted, fighting to sit up and jerking down the mask. This time they let her. She needed to see. Her house couldn’t really be on fire. Not after she’d worked so hard on it.

There was only a narrow gap she could see between the fire trucks and the men running around the scene, but that was all it took. She could see the rear of the house engulfed in flames and the mix of the black-and-white smoke pouring overhead as the hard stream of water pounded at the brittle wood siding.

It was gone. She knew it in her heart. Even if they put out the fire in the next two minutes, she’d have lost almost everything. What wasn’t burned would be ruined by smoke or water damage. It was a hard pill to swallow, but all their hard work was for nothing. She’d only had a few weeks to enjoy her whole house and now it was gone. In the end, she had no house, no Grant . . . What was she going to do now?

The other paramedic came back and handed Pepper a bottle of water. The other draped a blanket over her shoulders. “We should get you over to the ambulance and get you checked out.”

Reluctantly, Pepper allowed the men to help her up and she followed them over to the ambulance where she sat on the back and allowed them to take all her vitals. She was fine. She was in public wearing mismatched pajamas and no bra, but she’d survive that. She tried to sip her water to soothe the burning in her throat and not think about how bad things had suddenly gotten.

About a half hour later, all seemed to quiet down. The fire was finally out. The neighbors had returned to their homes. The fire truck from the neighboring town packed up and rolled away, exposing the half of the house she couldn’t see before. She’d braced herself to see the entire building a pile of ash, but amazingly, the front all appeared to be intact. It was wet and sooty, but the whole thing hadn’t burned to the ground like she’d expected.

“Everything looks okay. I think you’ll be fine, but we can take you to the hospital as a precaution if you’d like,” a paramedic said.

Pepper shook her head. She didn’t need to go to the hospital. The only question was where she would go instead. To her brother’s house? They had established a tentative peace, but close proximity could shatter that pretty quickly. That left her parents’ house, where she would sleep in the old twin bed she’d had since she was ten. That didn’t excite her, either. She’d rather blow up an inflatable bed in the back room of the salon, although Sarah would have a fit and insist she stay at her house instead. She supposed that left her the option of staying at Miss Twila’s bed-and-breakfast, although she’d have to drag the poor woman out of her bed in the middle of the night.

“You dumb bastard,” Mack shouted, interrupting her thoughts as he charged toward them. She’d known Mack a long time and she’d never seen him look so angry before. His face was bright red and he was scowling. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed. Again. You’ve still got your arm bandaged up from the last time.”

Pepper frowned at Mack and then turned to Grant. “What is he talking about?”

Grant smiled sheepishly. “I kinda ran into your house without any gear on and pulled you out of the fire.”

“Kinda?” Mack snorted with a reluctant smirk. “He did, straight up.”

“And what if I hadn’t?” Grant asked.

Pepper couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t. She’d been sleeping on the couch just as she had been since the breakup. Two glasses of wine and emotional exhaustion had knocked her right out. She’d never heard a smoke alarm, although it wouldn’t surprise her if hers didn’t work, like so many other things in the house. She’d slept through the whole thing and would’ve likely died of smoke inhalation before the flames reached her. It made the loss of her house and belongings seem silly and insignificant. “You’re not even supposed to be back on duty yet.”

Grant shrugged. “Am I only supposed to save your life when I’m being paid to do it?”

There was no good answer to that, she supposed.

“From what we can tell, it started in the back bedroom,” Mack said. “My guess is that old wiring went bad. I got it working before, but we probably should’ve left it until we could rewire. Damn it.” Mack looked back at the smoldering remains of her house. “I’m sorry, Pepper.”

“It’s not your fault, Mack. You did what I asked you to do.”

He nodded and shook his head. “The good news is that it isn’t a total loss. The bedrooms and the bathroom are gone, but I’d say you can salvage the rest and rebuild it with the insurance money. It will take some time, but you can do it.”

That was something. She’d cling to that hope. “Thanks, Mack.”

“I’m going to get the guys packed up and out of here. You can’t go back into the house until the structural engineers from your insurance company clear the site as stable. Not even for your car keys or your cell phone,” he clarified. “Will you be okay? Do I need to call someone to come get you?”

Pepper opened her mouth to respond, but Grant beat her to it. “I’ll take care of it. She’s going back to my place.”

Mack nodded and walked away, leaving Pepper at a bit of a loss.

“Why would I go to your place?”

Grant looked at her with a serious expression. “Because that’s where you live now.”

A twitter of nervous laughter rose up in her throat. “Don’t be silly, Grant. We’re not even dating anymore. You don’t have to take me in like some refugee. If you can take me to Miss Twila’s, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not taking you in like a refugee and I’m certainly not dumping you at the bed-and-breakfast. I’m asking you to marry me and move into my place until our renovated house is ready.”

Pepper sputtered at his sudden declaration. “W-what a-are you talking about?”

Grant sat down beside her on the bumper of the ambulance. “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have pushed you about what was going on. I respect your decision to keep quiet about it. But,” he added, “I’m not going to let you use it as an excuse to push me away.”

“I didn’t—” she started but he held up his hand.

“I know everything, Pepper. I had a nice, long chat with your father and he explained the whole situation to me. All of it,” he said with emphasis. “I understand why your brother wouldn’t be my biggest fan, but I’m going to work on that. I’m not going to tell my family—like you, it’s not my place, but I’m going to extend an olive branch. If he chooses to accept it, we’ll start over and try to build our own relationship. But that’s got nothing to do with you and me.”

Pepper wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen due to the smoke inhalation or if she was just having trouble following everything Grant had to say. She’d heard the words “marry” and “move into my place” mixed in among a lot of words about Logan and their families.

“Are you okay?” Grant asked with concern lining his sooty face.

“I think I might be in shock.”

Grant pulled a flashlight out of the nearby case and flashed it in her eyes. “Your pupils look okay. Are you cold?”

“No. I’m just having a really hard time trying to follow what you’re saying.”

Grant smiled and took her hand in his. “I’ll make it really easy. I’ve asked your father for permission to propose to you. I hadn’t intended to do it tonight, so I don’t have a ring or a fancy proposal scripted out, but I’m going to say this anyway. I love you, Pepper. You’re the first woman in my whole life who gave me focus and meaning. You challenge me, irritate me, and motivate me to be a better man. I want to spend every day of the rest of our lives together.

“Earlier tonight, I was sitting home alone and I heard the call for the fire department. My heart leapt into my throat. I rushed here, praying to God I hadn’t lost my opportunity to tell you how I felt. Now that you’re here, and safe, I’m not going to let someone else’s secrets get in the way of our chance at happiness together. I want you to move in with me. I want us to rebuild your house and make it into a real home where you and I can live and start our lives together. Pepper, will you marry me?”

Pepper gasped as she listened to him speak. She followed every word and yet she could barely believe she was hearing them. This whole night was so surreal. She hadn’t quite come to terms with the idea of losing almost every single thing she owned. Of being temporarily homeless. Of nearly dying. So many things were flying at her so quickly, she didn’t know what to do or think about it all. But she knew one thing for certain—she wanted to say yes with every ounce of energy she had left in her.

She brought her hand up to his face, caressing the stubble of his cheek. Pepper thought she might never get to touch him like this again. “Yes,” she said.

Grant’s nervous expression melted away into a wide grin. “Yes?”

Pepper nodded and Grant scooped her up into his arms. She fell into him, feeling safe in his embrace for the first time since she woke up on her neighbor’s lawn. His lips met hers, gently sealing their agreement more officially than any ring could do.

When they pulled apart, she looked up at him and smiled. “I love you,” she said for the very first time.

“I love you, too,” he responded.

“I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

Grant grinned wide. “Good. I don’t want you to say it to anyone else, ever.” He took her left hand and brought it up to his lips. He kissed her bare ring finger. “We’re going to get you a ring tomorrow,” he promised.

Pepper chuckled, shaking her head. “I think we should start a little smaller.”

His brow drew together in confusion. “Smaller?”

“Yes. I’d love an engagement ring, but I’d also like shoes. And pants. A couple pairs of panties and a toothbrush. We can work our way up to diamonds, but we’ve got a lot of other things to buy first.”

Grant nodded. “Absolutely. We’ll get you everything you want. I’ll take you down to the insurance agent first thing in the morning.”

“In the meantime, I’ve got a little money,” she said. “Some little birdie refunded the four thousand dollars I paid for you.”

Grant looked a little stunned. “Did you ask for a refund?”

Pepper shook her head. “Not at all. I’d pay it again. Your grandmother can drop ice water on me any day.”

He took her hand and helped her up. Looking down at her feet, he frowned. “No shoes. I guess we have no choice but to go with the cliché fairy-tale ending to the night.”

Pepper looked at him in confusion, but before she could say a word, Grant swept her up into his arms. She cried out in surprise, quickly clinging to his neck. “You’re going to hurt your arm.”

“I can’t feel a thing other than how much I love you, Pepper.”

Pepper hugged him and rested her head on his shoulder as he carried them through the obstacle course of hoses and equipment to his truck.

“She said yes!” he shouted to the other firemen milling around as he walked by.

“Good for you!” someone shouted, quickly followed by “yes to what?”

Grant didn’t answer right away. He carried her over to his truck, not setting her down until he had to open the door. He helped her inside and leaned in to give her a kiss. “Yes to forever,” he said softly as their lips parted.

Yes to forever.

Don’t want to leave Rosewood just yet?

Keep reading for a sneak peek at Maddie’s story,

Stirring Up Trouble
the next book in the Rosewood series.

Coming fall 2015 from Pocket Star Books!

Chapter One

“Now, those are some nice-looking buns.”

Madelyn Chamberlain looked up in time to see Emmett Sawyer walk past the front of her bakery. He was up early for a night owl, but as always, the shaggy, laid-back owner of Woody’s, the local bar, was looking casually delicious. He managed to make a simple T-shirt and jeans look sexy. Of course, it helped that his well-worn jeans fit him like they were custom-made. “They sure are,” she muttered to herself.

“Maddie, do these have nuts in them?”

Emmett disappeared from view and Maddie turned to look at Miss Dotty as she perused the bakery case. Apparently Miss Dotty had been referring to the honey buns, not Emmett’s fine ass. “No nuts. If you want nuts, get the sticky buns instead. They have toasted, candied pecans.”

“Oooh . . . sticky buns.” Miss Dotty moved down to the next case and got engrossed in the daily selections.

Maddie was always dumbfounded by the customers who came in and stared at the choices as though they weren’t the same every day. When she bought Rosewood Bakery from the late owner’s daughter, Maddie had worked with her father to put together a solid business plan. Part of that was being smart about supplies and offerings. When she reopened as Madelyn’s Bakery & Tea House, she decided she wanted to serve a standard set of baked goods available on a regular basis. Each day, she featured one special item. That was in addition to any special orders.

It had worked well for her so far. Some people came in and got the same treat for breakfast or dessert every day. Others came in the same day each week for their favorite special. She normally sold out of white chocolate raspberry cheesecake bars by noon every Wednesday.

Miss Dotty was one of her daily visitors. She had a sweet tooth and no desire to actually bake any longer. Since she’d had a stroke, it was probably just as well. Her mind was a little scattered anymore and she’d probably burn her house down if she tried to bake something. Each day, the older woman would wander into the shop and stare intently at the bakery case. She typically spent upward of fifteen minutes in the shop, and no matter how many questions she asked and how many times she eyed other items, she left with a cinnamon roll, without fail.

“You know, I think today I’ll just take a cinnamon roll,” Dotty decided.

Maddie smothered a smug grin. “Sure thing.” She slid the back of the case open and pulled out a cinnamon roll. She already had a small pastry box ready to go. She met Miss Dotty down by the register. “That’s three fifty.”

Miss Dotty fussed in her purse for a few minutes and then finally pulled out a few rumpled bills. There seemed to be an endless supply of wadded-up bills in the bottom of Miss Dotty’s purse. It was a leather Coach bag, so surely Miss Dotty could afford a wallet, but it seemed that everything just gathered in the bottom of the purse: a stockpile of tissues, pennies, receipts, and stray dollar bills.

Maddie was handing back her change when her soon-to-be sister-in-law Pepper Anthony came into the bakery. Pepper worked at the hair salon next door.

“Morning,” she said, moving past Maddie and Miss Dotty to peruse the case.

Although they were on the verge of being family, Pepper and Maddie were not close. According to her brother Grant, Pepper’s fiancé, it was because Maddie was a stuck-up brat. Maddie resented that. She had high standards and she held everyone—herself included—to those standards. Some people just didn’t make the cut. She felt no reason to play nice with people she didn’t have an interest in.

Of course, now those people were her customers and some of them would soon be members of the Chamberlain family. Grant had told her that if she was going to run a successful bakery, she needed to be nice to everyone. And she was trying. But it was hard. For all the grief she got from people for being mean to them, she’d had her fair share of mistreatment from others. Being a young, single daughter of the great Chamberlain family had made her a target for gold diggers and haters alike.

“Hey, Pepper,” Miss Dotty said as she dumped her change into her purse and scooped up her cinnamon roll box. “Do you have any openings this week?”

Pepper’s brow drew together in thought. “I’m not sure, Miss Dotty. I’ll have to check my calendar. I’m going to pick up some treats to take over to the firehouse, but if you want to come by this afternoon, we’ll see what we can find.”

“That sounds good. I think I need a new look.”

Maddie got a large cardboard container out for Pepper’s order. Regardless of how they felt about each other, Pepper was a good customer. Grant had a sweet tooth and Pepper wasn’t inclined to bake, so she stopped in fairly often to get treats for him and the other guys at the firehouse.

“I like your look,” Pepper said. “What’s prompting the change?”

“Well,” Miss Dotty said with a conspiratorial look in her eye, “I think I want to start dating again.”

That froze Maddie in her tracks. Miss Dotty was a widower in her late sixties. Her stroke several years back had taken her from eccentric to downright kooky. Maddie kept waiting for the day Miss Dotty decided to streak nude through the square. The idea of her dating was a little disconcerting.

“Ever since the bachelor auction at Valentine’s Day, I’ve been thinking about trying my hand at romance again. I was disappointed, of course, when you outbid me for Grant, but I know he’s too young for me. I need to find someone like Bert. He and Vera have really hit it off.”

“Bert and Vera are dating?” Maddie couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes,” Pepper answered. “For about a month or so. They got together at the Fourth of July picnic and have been nearly inseparable since then. You haven’t heard?”

“No,” Maddie said. She didn’t like Pepper’s tone, implying she was stupid somehow for not noticing. Did people not notice that she had spent all summer trying to get her new business going? She’d completely overhauled the old Rosewood Bakery. Madelyn’s was on a whole other level. It was elegant and refined, featuring a new selection of French pastries she’d mastered while studying in Paris. The interior was redone with intricately designed blush-and-cream wallpaper, and new wainscoting didn’t put itself up. The crystal chandelier overhead was imported from Marseille.

That was just the beginning. She was working on opening a teashop in the room over the bakery and was already hosting little girl princess birthday parties there. She didn’t have time to worry about what others were doing, especially when it came to two old people making out like teenagers all over town. “I don’t work in the beauty shop, so I’m not privy to the town gossip. Not that I really care.”

“You should care,” Miss Dotty said. “You might be young and beautiful now, with your choice of suitors, but that won’t always be the case. Someday you may end up like me—an old, withered-up widow with needs. Bert and Vera have given me hope that maybe that itch can get scratched.”

Oh dear Jesus. That was the last image Maddie wanted in her head. She took a deep breath. No, no. She was not going to let those pictures settle into her brain. It was bad enough when she found out that the previous owner of the bakery had died from a heart attack brought on by a night of passion with Bert Swenson.

“What can I get you today, Pepper?” Maddie desperately tried to shift the subject away from senior sex.

Pepper turned back to the case with a twinkle of amusement in her dark eyes. She seemed to get some pleasure out of Maddie’s discomfort. Someone should enjoy it, she supposed. “Give me a blueberry and an apple cinnamon muffin, a slice of the orange pound cake . . .”

“That’s Grant’s favorite,” Maddie piped up brightly.

Pepper looked at her with a deadpan expression indicating that she apparently wasn’t impressed with Maddie’s knowledge. “Yes, I know. A cinnamon roll,” she continued, “and a Bavarian cream horn. That’s for me, so could you put it in a separate box?”

“Sure thing,” Maddie said, although she didn’t really want to. Her pastry boxes were custom-made, pink with embossed lettering on the top. They weren’t cheap. Every time she handed one out, she watched that money slip away. She probably needed to invest in some bags for smaller items and some plain boxes, saving the nice ones for more important things. She just hated to do it. It was one of the touches that made Madelyn’s special, and it was good advertising. Advertising her father insisted she didn’t need, given that she was the only bakery in town.

Shaking off her father’s doubts, she boxed up Pepper’s order and rang her up. She ignored Pepper and Miss Dotty’s idle chatter while she ran Pepper’s card. She was slipping the signed credit card receipt into the cash drawer when the chime on the front door announced another customer. It was quite the busy Thursday morning.

Maddie looked up in time to see Miss Francine, the owner of the local flower shop, Petal Pushers, rushing through the door. She came by every morning with a bouquet of fresh flowers that Maddie displayed on the counter. She was clutching a bouquet of pale pink hydrangeas and white dahlias, but she didn’t seem particularly interested in the flowers.

“Oh my heavens, have you all seen it?” Miss Francine was red-faced and absolutely horrified. She thrust the bouquet across the counter at Maddie and shook her head in dismay. “It’s disgraceful.”

“Seen what?” Miss Dotty asked.

Miss Francine took a moment to recover before speaking of the dreadful thing. “Someone has spray-painted a giant penis on the side of the Piggly Wiggly.”

Miss Dotty giggled. Pepper smothered a snort of laughter. Maddie just sighed. This town was so unrefined sometimes. She worked hard trying to bring some culture and elegance to Rosewood, and just when she’d started to make progress, a ten-foot wiener showed up on the side of the grocery store and set her back months.

“I could see it right out the window of my shop this morning. I went to turn the Open placard, and there it was in bright red paint like a damn neon sign. Some teenager’s prank, I’m sure. Pat Kincaid, the manager of the grocery store, is out there painting over it right now, but the damage is done. The elementary school bus already went by and all the kids saw it. Clark Newton at the newspaper even snapped a few pictures for the front page of the Rosewood Times tomorrow.”

“There will be some interesting discussions around the dinner table tonight,” Pepper noted.

“Indeed. I’m so rattled by the whole thing, I think I might get a little something, Maddie. My blood sugar feels low from the shock of it all.”

She must really be rattled. Miss Francine was not the kind to indulge in sweets and empty calories. For a woman in her sixties, she hadn’t yet fallen prey to the ravages of time. She was nearly six feet tall with the body of an Amazon and a head of neatly coiffed red-gold hair. Miss Francine gazed at the morning’s offerings while Maddie put the flowers into the crystal vase and arranged them.

The hydrangeas were a particularly lovely shade of pink today, a pale, rosy color that went with the wallpaper without overpowering it. They were perfect. Yesterday’s gerbera daisies had been a little too bright for her taste, but part of the agreement she made with Miss Francine was that it was florist’s choice in exchange for a reduced rate and a placard on the counter that noted they were from Petal Pushers.

“Well, I’d better get these treats to the boys before my first appointment,” Pepper said. “I’ll see y’all later. Thanks, Maddie.”

Maddie raised a hand as the redheaded hairstylist slipped out of her shop. That just left Miss Francine and Miss Dotty, although she didn’t really know why Miss Dotty was still there. She had nothing better to do, apparently.

Maddie didn’t have that problem. Sunday was her only day off. She got up at 3 a.m. every day, arriving at the shop by four to start baking the day’s goods. By the time the sun came up, she had trays of cinnamon rolls and sticky buns cooling, muffins and breads baking, and pastry cream whipping up in the mixer. When she opened at eight, most things were ready to go for the day.

The shop closed briefly for lunch, then reopened and stayed open until five thirty. It was nonstop, every day but Sunday, when she went to church, had dinner with her family, and spent the evening working on the shop’s books. Math wasn’t her forte, but she couldn’t afford an accountant. She’d get an assistant before she got an accountant.

With a sigh, Maddie leaned against the back counter, which was lined with faux cakes. It was only nine in the morning and she was exhausted.

“Maddie, dear?”

She perked up, moving down the counter to where Miss Francine was standing. Miss Dotty was nowhere to be seen, which meant Maddie must have half dozed off and not noticed her leaving the shop. “Yes, Miss Francine?”

The woman tilted her head, looking down her long, narrow nose at Maddie. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

“No,” she replied before she could stop herself. “I try to be in bed by seven or eight at night, but sometimes I just lie there while my brain spins. And lately, when I do fall asleep, I get woken up by the noise at the bar.”

Miss Francine narrowed her gaze. “That’s right. You bought the old Victorian across the street from Woody’s, didn’t you?”

“I did. And I love that house, I really do. But between the noise at the bar going until all hours and the stench of the pizza place always in the air, it’s turned out to be less than ideal.”

“Can you move?”

Maddie’s eyes widen. “No. I just bought the place. What little money I do have is tied up in it and the bakery. I already owe my father and my grandmother my firstborn. And really, the house is perfect. I wish I could just pick it up and drop it in a different part of town.”

She’d gotten used to the smell of Italian food constantly wafting through her open windows, but she couldn’t get past the noise at the bar. During the week, it was open until eleven. Fridays and Saturdays, it was open until two in the morning. Not even earplugs and a sound machine could muffle the music, laughter, voices, honking cars, and drunks shouting in the street. One morning, she actually found vomit on her lawn.

“Have you spoken to Mr. Sawyer about the noise?”

Mr. Sawyer? Somehow that name didn’t suit Emmett at all. He was a surfer who’d lost his way and wandered inland. He didn’t belong in a town like Rosewood. She couldn’t fathom why he would come to a place like this if he hadn’t been born and raised here. But for some reason, he’d decided to buy Woody’s Bar, revive it, and make her life miserable.

“I tried, once. He told me that while he’d try to tone things down after ten, there were no sound ordinances in Rosewood until that time and technically, he could make all the noise he wanted until then. Although he tried to be diplomatic about it, he basically told me I shouldn’t have bought a house next to the bar. He was there first and if I didn’t like it, I could move.”

Miss Francine nodded in understanding and sympathy. “I always thought it was a shame when they built that bar so close to such a beautiful, historic home. Have you tried calling the police?”

“Not yet. I feel bad distracting them from doing real police work.”

“Like what?” Miss Francine pressed. “We live in Rosewood, dear. The last lick of crime we had around here was Pat Kincaid’s wife peeping in windows trying to catch him cheating on her. It’s been months since that happened. I’m sure they’d like something to do.”

Maddie frowned. Her brother Simon was a local officer. Perhaps she could get him to help. “Okay. I’ll try that next time.”

“You do that. You need your rest. When ten-oh-one rolls around, you have that number ready to dial. If they’re called out there often enough, they’ll eventually fine the bar. Hit Mr. Sawyer in the pocketbook, since he wouldn’t respond to your polite request.”

Maddie would love a good night’s sleep. Just a solid seven-hour stretch without being woken up would be heaven. “What if that doesn’t work with him? What if calling the cops just makes Emmett angry and he gets louder?”

Miss Francine smiled a smile that told of younger years of deception and craftiness. Maddie had no idea about the older woman’s past, but she got the feeling she and Miss Francine would’ve been partners in crime if they’d been born in the same era.

There was a wicked glint in her eye as she leaned into the case and spoke in the sweetest southern lilt. “Then, my dear Madelyn, that means war.”

Want more Rosewood romance?

Check out the first book in the Rosewood Series where pop-sensation Ivy Hudson wrote a hit song titled "Size Matters." Now she's back home and has to face her muse for that chart-topper, her ex and football hero Brady Chamberlain.

Facing the Music

CLICK HERE TO ORDER

ORDER YOUR COPY TODAY!

About the Author

Andrea Laurence is an award-winning author of contemporary and paranormal romance for Pocket Star Books and Harlequin Books. She has been a lover of reading and writing stories since she learned to read at a young age. She always dreamed of seeing her work in print and is thrilled to share her special blend of sensuality and dry, sarcastic humor with the world. A dedicated West Coast girl transplanted into the Deep South, she’s working on her own “happily ever after” with her boyfriend and their collection of animals including a Siberian husky that sheds like nobody’s business.

Also by Andrea Laurence

Facing the Music

We hope you enjoyed reading this Pocket Star Books eBook.

Sign up for our newsletter and receive special offers, access to bonus content, and info on the latest new releases and other great eBooks from Pocket Star Books and Simon & Schuster.

CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

or visit us online to sign up at
eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com

Pocket Star Books

An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

1230 Avenue of the Americas

New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Andrea Laurence

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Pocket Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

First Pocket Star Books ebook edition March 2015

POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

Interior design by Davina Mock-Maniscalco

Cover photo by Dkal Inc./Getty Images

ISBN 978-1-4767-7643-9

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Stirring Up Trouble Excerpt

About the Author