Scarlett was a good shot, almost as good as Rigby. It hadn’t been too difficult to pretend she’d really beaten him.
Rigby glanced at the gathering crowd as Paul Tate the town mayor motioned for him to join him at the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Mayor began, “every year, we select one of Clementine’s most notable citizens to have the great honor of getting a great big, tasty pie thrown in his or her face.” A few chortles went through the crowd, followed by applause. He held up his hand to quiet the audience. “This year, we have Clementine’s very own Rocket Breeland, starting quarterback for the Tampa Bay Titans, here with us.” The applause was deafening.
Rigby smiled, nodding and waving. His eye caught Scarlett’s. He grinned and she returned a tentative one of her own. For a moment, the roar of the crowd faded into the background and it was just the two of them. The years seemed to peel away and he remembered those Friday nights on the football field when he’d search the crowd to find Scarlett. Just knowing she was there, rooting for him, gave him motivation to soar. She was so stunningly beautiful he could hardly think straight. Her hair was curled, framing her delicate face in soft, voluminous waves. She was dressed appropriately for a country fair in a solid shirt, jacket, jeans, and turquoise cowboy boots.
“As you know, the person who earns the most tickets from the booth events gets to throw the pie. Our judges have tallied the tickets with our reader machine, and the lucky winner is none other than Scarlett Foster.” The Mayor waved a hand. “Scarlett, come on up here.” More clapping as Scarlett stepped up.
“Okay, y’all—in the spirit of good, old-fashioned fun, shake hands.”
Scarlett thrust out her hand. When Rigby clasped it, a spark ran through him. Her eyes widened like she’d felt it too. She tried to pull her hand away, but Rigby held onto it tugging her closer. “Give it your best shot.”
She smiled, showcasing her dimples. “Oh, don’t you worry, Rocket, I intend to.”
Whenever Scarlett called him Rocket, he felt like it was a jab. Rigby stepped behind the wooden cut-out and placed his head in the hole. Something about this whole thing was a little too reminiscent of the Puritan towns where people were placed in the stocks. Several people stepped up to snap pictures, including the photographer for the local newspaper. It was only then it occurred to Rigby that he probably should’ve talked to Monroe before agreeing to this. As his agent, Monroe was particular about what he let get out to the press. Oh, well. Too late now. At least this was good PR.
The Mayor handed Scarlett a pie. “Folks, this is a first. This lemon meringue pie is one Scarlett donated.” He clucked his tongue. “And let me tell you, if you have to get a pie in the face, this is the one you want. It’s my favorite … and one of the reasons my wife has to keep letting out the waistband of my pants.” This brought a few laughs. “Okay, Scarlett. It’s showtime.”
Excitement buzzed through the crowd as Scarlett stepped up to him, her brown eyes sparkling. Rigby grinned. “You’re not really gonna throw that at me, are you?”
She chuckled. “My only regret is that I have just one.”
Rigby laughed, loving her spunk.
Mayor Tate brought the microphone to his mouth. “Let’s do a countdown, shall we? Ten … nine … eight …”
Rigby started counting along with the crowd. “Three … two …” He braced himself as Scarlett pressed the pie into his face.
The crowd went wild, cheering and clapping.
Rigby blinked, trying to see. His instinct was to use his hands to wipe away the pie, but the only way he could do that was to remove his face from the hole. He moved to step back.
“Wait,” the Mayor ordered, “stay right where you are.”
Rigby paused, not sure what was coming next. He licked his lips. The pie tasted good, which was no surprise. Scarlett was a master chef.
“Okay, folks, we’re starting something new this year. In a show of friendship, the person who threw the pie … in this case, Scarlett … will step up and kiss Rocket.”
Even though Rigby’s vision was blurred from the pie, he could still see the shock on Scarlett’s face. Murmurs mingled with cheering, and a few wolf calls circulated through the group.
“Come on, Scarlett,” the Mayor said, his voice brimming with anticipation. “Don’t be shy. You can kiss him on the cheek if you’d like.”
Old Mayor Tate was milking this for all it was worth. The former golden couple—pro player and restaurant owner. Rigby could only imagine what the next headline of The Clementine Weekly Reporter would read.
“Kiss him on the lips,” someone yelled. Then a chant broke out. “The lips … the lips …”
Scarlett’s face was flaming as she stepped up.
Rigby realized with a jolt that he wanted a kiss from Scarlett—wanted it badly, but not like this. She looked like she wanted to shrivel up and crawl under the nearest picnic table. “I’m sorry, I had no idea this was part of the plan.” A wry grin twisted over his lips. “Just kiss me on the cheek and get it over with.”
Something shifted in her eyes as she cocked her head. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”
“Yes, I mean no.” He chuckled. “You just look so mortified, like you’re about to have a coronary.”
She let out a harsh laugh, straightening her shoulders. “I am not the least bit mortified by the prospect of kissing you, Rigby Breeland,” she huffed, enunciating every word. “It’s not like I haven’t done it plenty of times before,” she muttered under her breath, leaning in, pressing her lips to his as the crowd went wild.
Rigby was unprepared for the adrenaline that raced through his veins like liquid fire when her lips connected with his.
She drew back, a triumphant look on her face. “There.”
“Is that the best you can do?” he murmured low enough so that only she could hear.
Her jaw went slack as she stepped back, her cheeks blazing. He could tell he’d taken her completely off guard. He probably shouldn’t have razzed her about the kiss, but it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. She was so darn fun to tease.
“Thank you, Rocket and Scarlett. Everyone give them a big round of applause,” the Mayor said. “We’ll now proceed with the baked goods auction.”
Rigby stepped back removing his face, as a woman he didn’t recognize offered him a towel to clean his face. Spending a few weeks in Clementine was turning out to be more promising than he’d expected.
5
Kissing Rigby at a public event was bad enough. Realizing Vernon was there watching was a thousand times worse. And the most disconcerting part was that the kiss had felt personal … intimate, the spark between them burning as strong as ever, maybe even more so now. Scarlett could only hope Vernon hadn’t noticed how affected she was by the kiss. As it turned out, Cindy Stubblefield had her baby in record time. Vernon rushed to the fair because he could hear the disappointment in Scarlett’s voice when he told her he couldn’t come. She was sure fate was getting a big chuckle out of this one. If Scarlett had known there was kissing involved, she never would’ve participated in the competition. She suspected the kiss was added because Mayor Tate and the Ladies Club wanted to spice up the fair. Rigby was a celebrity and they’d once been a couple. The whole thing reeked of a setup.
“And to think, I was worried you were spending the evening alone,” Vernon said, condemnation dripping from his voice.
Scarlett felt like a slime ball, but rushed to defend herself all the same. “It’s not my fault the Mayor wanted me to kiss him.” Her face felt so hot, she thought she might spontaneously combust.
Vernon scowled. “You didn’t have to kiss him on the lips.”
She let out a long breath. That had been a huge mistake on her part. Pressure from the crowd mixed with Rigby’s goading caused her to lose her head for a second. She could trace ninety percent of all the reckless things she’d done in her life back to him. “It was a spur of the moment thing.” She gave Vernon a searching l
ook, and hated herself for it, but couldn’t help comparing him to Rigby. He was medium height, on the thin side like a golfer, whereas Rigby had the lithe, muscular build of an athlete. Vernon was cute with his milk chocolate eyes, thick hair, and white teeth—certainly the type of man to turn a woman’s head. But he didn’t possess Rigby’s movie-star looks or commanding presence. When Rigby walked into a room, heads turned and everyone knew he was there. He wasn’t an attention hog, it was simply part of his persona. He exuded that larger-than-life, confident vibe that made him such a force to be reckoned with on the field. Vernon was temperate, understated, while Rigby was a hothead. Scarlett’s mind scrambled to list all of Vernon’s qualities so she could tip the scale in his favor. Vernon was thorough with his patients and highly intelligent. He’d graduated at the top of his medical class. And the best part about Vernon—he had a stable practice in Clementine with no plans to go elsewhere, not to mention that she didn’t have to share him with the world. She touched Vernon’s arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. It was a silly competition that meant nothing.”
He looked thoughtful. “How exactly did you end up being the one to throw the pie in Rigby’s face?”
Oops. How in the heck was she supposed to answer that? She was relieved when Harper stepped over to where they were sitting. “Hey, y’all. Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all,” Scarlett said quickly, scooting closer to Vernon so Harper would have room to sit. Scarlett glanced over at Rigby surrounded by a group of admiring women. Why was she not surprised? It was ridiculous how women were always throwing themselves at him. They always had, even in high school and college. But now that he was a superstar, it was infinitely worse. She’d seen enough about Rigby on the Internet to know the adoration didn’t just happen in Clementine.
After the kiss, she’d made a bee-line to Vernon so she could smooth things over. She wondered what Rigby thought of the experience. Okay, not that it mattered. Rigby meant nothing to her. He was a part of her past, but that was the extent of it. She balled her fist. She’d do well to keep reminding herself of that.
She touched Vernon’s arm. “I’m really glad you came.”
He relaxed a fraction and reached for her hand. “Me too.”
“So … are you still gonna bid on my pie?”
“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to eating a piece of your sweet potato pie all day … and sharing the company of the most beautiful woman here. I’m prepared to outbid anyone.”
“Well, you’d better get out your checkbook, Doc, because I saw Walter Minford eyeing Scarlett’s pie, and he paid a small fortune for it last year,” Harper piped in.
Vernon’s lips thinned as they drew together. “Walter will just have to get used to disappointment because this year Scarlett’s pie will be mine, regardless of cost.” He put an arm around her, pulling her close.
“Thank you,” Scarlett chimed, resting her head on his shoulder, appreciating how safe and secure she felt with him.
The baked goods auction was underway. Mayor Tate was acting as auctioneer. Short with receding, strawberry-blonde hair, spectacles, and a round belly, he was the quintessential politician who loved being in the limelight with a captive audience. Even though it had been years since Rigby attended one of these auctions, he knew the drill. The bakers of the goods were supposed to remain anonymous until the bids were secured, so there wouldn’t be any bias. But everyone generally knew who made what. When Rigby heard Harper mention Scarlett’s sweet potato pie, he made a mental note. Then he did what any person with half a brain would do … he asked his grandmother which one was Scarlett’s. Coralee did her normal, “You know I can’t tell you which pie belongs to Scarlett. That would be breaking the rules.” And then she stepped over and tapped Scarlett’s pie. It was fun seeing Coralee in her element, ruling the roost.
When the leggy blonde next to him “accidentally” brushed his leg for the umpteenth time, he angled away from her. Her name was Hollie, and she was chatting him up as if they were bosom friends, but she’d moved to Clementine a couple of years prior and Rigby hadn’t seen her before tonight. Pepper McClain sat on the other side of him. They’d graduated from the same class in high school. Pepper was divorced with a couple of kids, and from her not-so-subtle signals, Rigby could only assume she was on the lookout for her next boyfriend or husband. He about jumped out of his skin when Pepper touched his leg and leaned in close enough for him to get a tickle in his throat from her musky perfume. A phrase Coralee frequently said stuck in his mind. The girl was wearing enough perfume to knock over an ox.
“You wouldn’t believe how complicated it is to make a cherry cheesecake from scratch,” she drawled in a husky tone. “I slaved away for half the day,” she finished, batting her fake eyelashes.
Rigby looked at the cheesecake in question as Mayor Tate held it up for display. “This cheesecake looks fantastic, folks. Who wants to start the bid?”
A man raised his hand. “Fifteen dollars.”
“Fifteen dollars, from the gentleman in the back.” The Mayor examined the item. “This wasn’t made from a box, folks. It’s the real deal … a New York-style cheesecake.”
“Twenty dollars,” another man said.
Rigby could feel the tension radiating off Pepper who clearly expected him to bid on her cheesecake. But he had no intention of getting involved with Pepper McClain or Hollie … whatever her last name was. The only woman he was interested in was sitting across the way cuddled up with Vernie Stanley. He scowled.
The cheesecake went for fifty dollars to the first man who’d bid. Mayor Tate smiled. “This cheesecake belongs to the lovely Pepper McClain. Pepper, stand up so we can see you.” She stood as all eyes went to her. The Mayor motioned at the man who’d won. “The two of you can meet up afterwards to share the cheesecake.”
As the auction continued Rigby kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, so he wouldn’t have to look at either of the women beside him. His pulse bumped up a notch when the Mayor held up Scarlett’s pie. “This one’s a Southern favorite, folks—sweet potato pie. Who’ll start the bid for this one?”
“Ten dollars,” a teenage boy called out from the front.
“Twenty dollars,” Vernie said loudly.
Is that all she’s worth to you? was the first thought that ran through Rigby’s mind. He got a good look at Vernie. He’d come a long way since high school—a decent-looking guy, but too tightly wound with his severe haircut and business attire clothing. Rigby tensed as the bidding continued. Walter Minford, the middle-aged man Harper mentioned, kept bidding until the two were in an all-out war. It kept going back and forth until the bid got to five hundred dollars.
Excitement buzzed through the crowd. “I believe this is a record,” the Mayor said. He looked at Walter. “Do you want to go higher?”
Walter shook his head in disappointment.
Rigby looked at the proud expression on Vernie’s face and then at Scarlett. She deserved a good man who could make her happy. Maybe he should just keep his mouth shut and let the past stay where it belonged. Then for some strange reason, Scarlett looked at him and he felt that same spark he’d felt earlier, wicking through his veins with enough juice to jumpstart a tractor. And deep in his bones he knew … it was Hail Mary time. “One thousand dollars,” Rigby said.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as Mayor Tate rocked back. “One thousand dollars from Rocket Breeland.”
Vernon’s face turned a shade darker as he glared at Rigby. “Twelve hundred.”
No matter how much Vernie bid, Rigby was determined to go higher. “Two thousand,” he said evenly.
“Twenty-five hundred,” Vernon countered.
Scarlett’s face was beet red, and she didn’t look happy with him, but Rigby had come this far and couldn’t back down now. “Five thousand.”
“Fifty-five hundred,” Vernon said, but Rigby could feel his fear as surely as if the man had been standing next to him.
At this point, the kind thing to do was t
o just end this before it got out of hand. He didn’t know how much money Vernie made, but he imagined it wasn’t a whole lot in Clementine. He felt guilty for putting the poor man in this situation. He probably should’ve thought through this whole scenario before he opened his mouth. But now there was only one thing he could do. He straightened his shoulders. “Ten thousand dollars.”
A stunned silence descended over the crowd. Vernon was furious, Scarlett pale. Even the Mayor was at a loss for words.
Finally, Mayor Tate spoke. “Ten thousand dollars.” He looked at Vernon. “Do you wanna counter that?”
Vernon shook his head and looked away.
“The bid stands at ten thousand dollars,” the Mayor proclaimed. “This pie belongs to none other than the lovely Scarlett Foster. Scarlett will you please stand?”
Scarlett stood and waved, a tight smile fixed over her face.
“Scarlett, you and The Rocket can meet up afterwards to share your pie,” the Mayor said. “And hopefully, Rocket will be able to eat this one rather than having it thrown in his face.” He chuckled deeply at his own joke, sounding like huh, huh.
“Well, that was interesting,” Pepper said icily.
Knowing all eyes were on him, Rigby just sat there, a placid expression on his face. Thanks to the many press conferences he’d attended over the years, he had the poker-face thing down to a science. Once the auction resumed, he glanced at Scarlett and Vernie who appeared to be arguing. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. That didn’t go like he’d hoped. Then again, what did he expect? That he would waltz back into town and win Scarlett back the first evening? Even as the thoughts flitted through his mind, he realized something—he wanted her back. And the ten thousand dollars he’d paid to state his intent was a pittance. He would’ve paid ten times that if he thought he stood a chance. His mind ran through the events leading up to him placing the bid. It was the way Scarlett looked at him that prompted him to do it.
The Perfect Catch (Last Play Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion) Book 9) Page 5
