He nodded, looking vindicated. “Yes, it’s nice to know you’re telling me the truth.” His eyes searched hers. “Please be careful.”
“Okay,” she relented. “I’ve got to get to work.” This conversation squelched the last tendrils of her good mood. As she reached for her purse, her phone buzzed. She pulled it out and read a text from Harper. Her heart clutched.
I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s a big write-up about you and Rigby on The Clementine Connection blog site, with a photo of Rigby placing his hand over yours at the picnic table.
A burst of anger shot through Scarlett, followed by anxiety. She let out a humorless laugh. Had Vernon seen it? The Clementine Connection was a town blog written by Maryanne Wheatley, one of the nosiest women ever to draw breath. Scarlett figured Maryanne would jump at the chance to put the pie incident in her blog, but she’d gotten a picture? Scarlett had been so focused on her conversation with Rigby that it hadn’t entered her mind that Maryanne might be lurking around watching them … or taking a picture. That was the downside of living in a small town. You couldn’t sneeze without everyone knowing the color of your snot.
“What’s wrong?” Douglas asked.
“I’ve got to check something on the computer before I head out.” She rushed to her bedroom and opened her laptop. When she read the headline she gasped, her hand going over her mouth. There it was … the incriminating headline in bold text.
Ten thousand reasons why Scarlett Foster might Choose the Football Player over the Doctor.
Then she saw the picture of her and Rigby leaning in close, his hand over hers. But that wasn’t even the worst—the tortured look in Scarlett’s eyes said it all. Anyone looking at this would know she still had feelings for Rigby.
This was bad.
Really bad.
Vernon was going to blow a cork when he saw this. Scarlett wanted to rush over and wring Maryanne’s skinny neck for meddling in her business, but that would only give Maryanne more material for her blog.
Douglas frowned as she rushed past him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She threw up her hand in a wave, not looking back. “See you tonight.”
Scarlett parked her car on the street in front of the house the night before because Vernon was parked behind the garage. As she darted down the front steps, she stopped when she heard Rigby’s voice.
“It’s okay, just walk on by like you don’t know me. I’ll just be out here painting … all day long … in the hot sun.”
He probably thought he was irresistible in khaki shorts and a t-shirt, his muscles doing their little ripple dance underneath. She put a hand on her hips. “What do you want?”
He grinned. “Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.”
Why did he have to be so dang good-looking? He was painting a house, and still managed to look like a gazillion bucks. She couldn’t help but notice how his blue t-shirt highlighted his eyes.
He waved a hand. “Hey, can you come over here for a minute? I wanna get your opinion on something.”
Wariness swept over her. “What?”
“Just come here … please.”
She blew out a breath. “Fine.” She tromped over. “What?”
“Does this paint look white to you … or cream?”
“Cream.”
He frowned. “That’s what I think too, but Brandon at the hardware store swears he matched the paint exactly.”
“No, it’s definitely cream.”
He sighed. “Well, it’s too late now. I have most of this side done.”
“I’m sure it’ll look great when it’s finished.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a broad smile that sent tingles shooting over her. Good grief. Would she ever be able to get over this guy? Or was she a lost cause?
He tipped his head. “So, how was the ice cream last night?”
“Fine.” She caught the edge in his voice. Had he read Maryanne’s blog? Did he even know about The Clementine Connection? He wasn’t acting like it. Before she realized it, her gaze flickered to his t-shirt clinging to his well-formed chest. Her face flamed as she quickly looked at his face instead. “Well, I’d love to stand here shooting the bull all day, but I’ve gotta get to work.”
He flashed a boyish grin. “Stick around, and I’ll give you some real work. I’m sure I can find another brush somewhere around here.”
She laughed despite herself. “Yeah, knowing you, I’m sure you can.” Their eyes locked as her pulse raced.
He stepped up to her. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to go with me to the shrimp boil and concert tonight?”
Blood was pounding in her temples. She had the unreasonable urge to throw her arms around him and give him more than a hasty peck on the lips like she had the night before. His hopeful expression caused conflicting emotions to well inside her. Despite everything that happened before, she wanted to throw caution to the wind and go with him. But where would that get her? Like her grandpa said, she couldn’t throw everything away over a pretty face. Yet that’s where her grandpa was wrong. Yes, Rigby was handsome—more handsome than any man ought to be, but it wasn’t just his looks that drew her to him. It was his charisma, his passion for life, his gritty determination. Rigby Breeland was the most exciting man she’d ever been around, and she’d loved seeing the world through his eyes. But, it was time to grow up. She had a life here in Clementine, a business, responsibilities. She couldn’t just drop everything and fall into his arms. What would happen when he went back to Tampa? Her grandpa would never leave Clementine, and she could never leave him.
“Say yes,” Rigby urged, a fierce light in his eyes.
“I can’t,” she uttered.
His jaw tightened. “Can’t or won’t.”
She stepped back. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
“I have a life here … commitments. I’m involved with someone else.”
An icy look came into his eyes. “Stop fooling yourself, Scarlett. You’ll never be happy with Vernie.”
The comment was the spark that lit the fuse. Her eyes flashed as she leaned in closer to him. “Stop calling him that!”
“Vernie,” he taunted.
Suddenly everything came crashing down on her like a brick wall as tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re such a moron,” she seethed. “Do you realize all the trouble you’ve caused me?”
His brows scrunched together. “What’re you talking about?”
“The Clementine Connection.” Her voice was near yelling, but she didn’t care.
“What’s that?”
“Maryanne Wheatley’s stupid blog.” From the way his jaw went slack, she could tell he didn’t know. She pressed forward, intent on putting Rigby in his place once and for all. “She did a feature story on us, even got a picture of the two of us together last night, your hand over mine.”
A quirky grin slid over his lips. “Is that such a bad thing?”
She belted out a harsh laugh. “Yes! Rigby, this isn’t some game. I’ve built a life for myself here! And unlike you, I don’t have some cushy job to go back to once you grow tired of this game and move onto the next girl.”
He rocked back, his face draining. “Is that what you think? This is not some game, Scarlett. I care about you, just as I always have. I’ve never been anything but honest with you.” His eyes cut into hers. “I don’t deserve this.”
“Oh, never mind,” she muttered.
He squared his jaw. “No, you started this. You’d better explain yourself.”
“He-llo!”
Scarlett didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she saw Sadie Lynn trotting over. “Great! Just what we need.”
A large smile broke over Sadie Lynn’s face as she approached. “Well, look at the two of you,” she cooed, “as tight as two peas in a pod.”
“We’re not together,” Scarlett shot back, and could’ve died when she saw the amusement dancing in Rigby’
s eyes. She turned on him. “We’re not!” He only laughed.
Sadie Lynn gave her an insinuating look, her eyes dancing like she couldn’t wait to grab a crumb of juicy gossip. “Lover’s quarrel?” She looked at Rigby. “That was some auction last night.” She shook her head, clucking her tongue. “Poor Vernon tried to keep up, but he was no match for you.”
The look of schoolgirl adoration all over Sadie Lynn’s plump face made Scarlett want to puke. If she stayed here a minute longer, her head would explode. She took another step back.
Rigby reached for her arm. “Hey, don’t—”
She cut him off mid-sentence, her eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare try to tell me what to do!” She took another step, her eyes bulging as she tripped over something. She stumbled back, arms flailing. Even as her mind registered what was happening, she fell backwards landing on her rear end, the paint from the tray splattering over her.
“I was trying to tell you not to step back into the paint,” Rigby said, the corners of his lips quivering like he was trying not to laugh.
It was all Scarlett could do not to burst into tears. Somehow, she managed to maintain her composure as she stood, lifting her chin in the air. Her cheeks were so hot they felt sunburned. “If you’ll excuse me …”
Sadie Lynn gave her a censuring look. “Yes, by all means, dear. You need to go inside and get cleaned up before that paint dries and ruins your clothes.”
7
As if tripping over the paint tray weren’t bad enough, things got worse when Scarlett got to the restaurant and saw the banner plastered over the front. She charged in looking for Harper, finding her in the back office. “What in the heck is that banner doing out front?”
Harper looked up from her desk. “Well, good morning to you too.”
“Not hardly,” Scarlett huffed. The paint fiasco had cost her an extra forty-five minutes, and she was in no mood to go rounds with Harper.
“Is everything okay?”
“I’ll live,” she said dryly. She pinned Harper with a look. “The sign?”
She picked up a pencil, twirling it in her hand. “I thought it was a good idea … you know, considering.” She put the pencil down and clasped her hands together. “You don’t like it?”
Scarlett threw back her head, causing her hair to fly back. “Of course, I don’t like it. Do you think I want my restaurant associated with the stupid auction?”
Harper waved her arm. “Did you see all the people at the restaurant this morning? The majority of them have been ordering sweet potato pie … for breakfast!”
Scarlett ran her hands through her hair. From the minute Rigby stepped foot back in Clementine things had gone haywire. An incredulous laugh bubbled in her throat, and she couldn’t stop it from escaping.
Harper gave her a suspicious look. “What?”
“The restaurant’s busier than it has ever been.”
“I know, we’re packed, and the day has just begun.” Harper’s eyes sparkled. “Isn’t it great?”
Scarlett plopped down in a nearby chair, shaking her head. “I still can’t believe you put up a banner saying, Home of the Ten-Thousand-Dollar Sweet Potato Pie. How did you even get it made so quickly?”
She laughed. “I know, pretty ingenious, huh? I called in a favor with Chrissy at the sign shop. I figure the restaurant should benefit from some of the publicity.” Harper’s expression grew contrite. “I’m sorry, I know I should’ve asked you first, but …”
“But you knew I’d say no.”
“Yes, and I also know we need the exposure.” Her voice went an octave higher. “And it’s working.”
Scarlett just sat there, glaring.
Harper gave her a contrite look. “I really am sorry.”
She rubbed a hand across her forehead. “Fine, the banner can stay.”
Harper let out a relieved breath. “Good.” She hesitated, studying Scarlett. “I’m sorry about the blog post.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Have you talked to Vernon?”
“No, I need to go to his office later today to do damage control.”
“I still can’t believe Rigby paid ten thousand dollars for your pie.” A mischievous glint lit her eyes. “Did he think it was worth it?”
Scarlett’s head shot up. “What?”
“Did he think it was worth it?” Harper repeated slowly like Scarlett was a third grader.
“He didn’t even eat any of it.”
“What?” she exploded, then started laughing. “That’s crazy. The poor man paid a fortune for it and then didn’t even get to eat it. Something’s very wrong with that picture.”
“He was about to when my grandpa showed up and made a big deal about me being there with Rigby instead of at home with him and Vernon, eating ice cream.”
Harper’s eyes rounded, and then she let out a devious giggle. “Your life is so twisted.”
“Tell me about it,” Scarlett muttered darkly.
Harper began fidgeting with her hands. “Um … there’s more.”
Scarlett went rigid. “What?”
She laughed nervously. “I sort of asked Rigby to come here today and do a photo shoot.”
Scarlett felt like she might have an out-of-body experience. “How could you?”
“You put me in charge of the marketing, and that’s what I’m doing.”
“But not like this!” She clenched her jaw. “I don’t want Rigby Breeland anywhere near my restaurant.”
Harper raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
The tone of Harper’s voice tromped on Scarlett’s last nerve. “Really!”
“You like him.”
She made a face. “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Harper countered, “a lot. That was obvious last night when you about killed yourself to win those tickets. And I still haven’t gotten over the fact that you knocked me out of riding the Ferris Wheel,” she pouted. “Of course, I realized I don’t wanna kiss Rocket, seeing how he’s still carrying a torch for you.”
“Just because I wanted to throw pie in Rigby’s face doesn’t mean I like him, and I don’t appreciate you insinuating I do,” she said tartly.
Harper shook her head. “I’m not gonna sit here and argue with you about the obvious.” Her eyes went soft. “Look, I know Rocket coming back to town is a big shock to you. You had your life all planned and wrapped in a neat, tidy bow. But life rarely works out like we think, and that’s the beauty of it. Contrary to what most of Clementine thinks, you’re not engaged to Vernon. So why not take a step back, reevaluate things?”
“And then what?” Scarlett snapped. “What happens when Rigby goes back to his glitzy life in Tampa and leaves me in the dust?” She bit down to stop her lower lip from trembling. She couldn’t go through the pain of having her heart stomped on again.
Harper’s eyes widened. “Wow, you really do like him … a lot.”
“I don’t know why we’re even talking about this,” Scarlett muttered moving to stand. “We’ve wasted enough time. The restaurant’s not going to run itself.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” Harper said, waving a hand, “sit back down.”
Reluctantly, Scarlett complied.
“Look at me,” she ordered.
Scarlett blew out a breath, meeting Harper’s eyes. “I’m looking.”
“You’re one of the most accomplished women I know.” She smiled. “I mean, look at this restaurant.” Her lips drew together as she collected her thoughts. “But you need to stop running from your heart.” She gave Scarlett a pointed look. “You’ve never told Rigby the whole truth, have you?”
The comment steamrolled Scarlett as she drew back. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything,” she said stiffly.
“Well, for starters, it’s the truth.” Harper folded her arms over her chest, staring Scarlett down. “You’ve been running from yourself and Rigby this entire time … right into the waiting arms of Vernie Stanley.”
She growled. “How ma
ny times do I have to say it? It’s not Vernie, but Vernon.”
“Uh, huh. A rose by any other name is a rose still the same.”
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “That’s not how the saying goes.”
Harper twirled her hand. “Whatever … you get the point.” She paused. “I’ll say this once, and then you won’t hear it from me again. Vernie’s a nice guy.”
“He’s more than a nice guy,” she uttered. “He took care of my grandma when she was sick. He was there for me when I needed him.” Few people could understand the depth of gratitude Scarlett felt for Vernon, who’d been there during those crucial times when she needed someone the most. Wasn’t that the essence of love? Being there?
“Yes, he was there, and you should be grateful. But that doesn’t mean you have to get engaged … marry him.”
She let out a drawn-out sigh. “We’re not engaged, and if I do marry him, it won’t be out of gratitude. Vernon’s a great guy. Lot’s of girls would be proud to have him.”
“And if you’d never met Rocket, the same might hold true for you.” Her voice grew ardent as she leaned forward. “But you did meet Rigby. You’ve been in love with him for years. He’s your Heathcliff.”
“My what?”
“You know … Wuthering Heights.” A smile tipped her lips. “You’ve been given a great opportunity to make this right, Scarlett Foster. To be true to your heart. What you choose to do with that opportunity is up to you.”
The words burned into Scarlett making her feel like her head was on fire. She couldn’t deal with this right now. “Thanks,” she mumbled through tight lips.
Harper wagged a finger. “Oh, no, don’t do that.”
“What?”
“That Southern Belle thing where you pay me lip service while drawing into yourself. Will you at least think about what I’ve said?”
“Of course,” she said, flashing a cool smile.
Harper sighed. “You’re the most stubborn woman on the planet. You can’t say I didn’t try.”
One of the servers rushed in the room. “People are already lined up outside, and the lunch rush hasn’t even started,” she said breathlessly. “What do we do?”
The Perfect Catch (Last Play Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion) Book 9) Page 7
