The Perfect Catch (Last Play Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion) Book 9)

by Jennifer Youngblood

“I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too.”

  A shudder went through her as she clinched her fist. “I just keep thinking.” Her voice broke, she swallowed and continued again. “I just keep thinking how close I came to losing Grandpa.” Fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “If you hadn’t gone in and saved him …”

  He offered a tender smile, caressing her cheek. “Don’t do that to yourself. He’s going to be okay.”

  She nodded peering into his eyes, pools of indigo in the semi-darkness. “I can never repay you for what you did.” Her feelings for Rigby ran deep, and with them came memories of childhood—how they’d been best friends before they fell in love. Now she could add another layer to the mix. He’d saved her grandpa, given her the greatest gift imaginable.

  “I did what anyone would’ve done under the circumstance.”

  “I love you,” she uttered.

  “I love you too.”

  As he hugged her again, she felt herself soften against his muscular chest. For just tonight, she wanted to forget all the ugliness and uncertainty and just enjoy being in his arms.

  15

  It had been a week since the fire, and Scarlett was starting to regain a little footing. She’d salvaged what she could from the house, but most everything was lost. The one bright spot had been the photos in the living room. While they were severely smoke damaged, they’d survived. Also, she’d purchased a fireproof safe a few years back for her vital documents. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t be faced with the task of starting over with those. Her clothes were all gone, as was her laptop. Tears pooled in her eyes, and she blinked them away. She couldn’t keep falling apart every minute. She had to look forward to the future. The insurance adjuster had been out to the house and was wrapping up his assessment. Once that was done, Scarlett and her grandpa would decide to rebuild the house or purchase something else. In the meantime, they were staying at the Clementine Bed and Breakfast. The owner, Judy, kindly gave them a discounted rate on the suite, which had a small sitting area, two bedrooms, and a shared bathroom.

  Grandpa was doing well health-wise, but his attitude was downright nasty. Scarlett guessed that was owed to the guilt he felt over starting the fire, but he was driving her crazy. He complained about everything and kept talking trash about Rigby, saying if Rigby hadn’t dropped him he wouldn’t be dealing with a fractured leg. Finally, Scarlett had enough and said she didn’t want to hear another word. She told him he ought to be thanking Rigby profusely for saving his life instead of raking him over the coals. Further, she informed him that Rigby wasn’t going anywhere. He was a part of her life for good, and Grandpa had better get used to the idea of them being together. He just sat there, his face a tight mask of anger, but at least he stopped the incessant ranting. Scarlett wasn’t sure what to think about her grandpa and wondered if his mind might be slipping. Sure, he’d never liked Rigby, but this extreme hatred was strange. Vernon had stopped by every evening to check on her grandpa, and while Scarlett was grateful he was taking such good care of him it was awkward all the same. The night before, Vernon stayed until well after ten p.m. Scarlett finally had to excuse herself and go to bed.

  Having placed the final napkin and silverware on the table, Scarlett stepped back and assessed the room. Everything was ready for lunch. Business was booming, which was a tremendous blessing, especially considering everything else that was going wrong. Harper stepped up beside her.

  “Hey, how ya’ holding up?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “I can take care of things here if you wanna get some rest … or spend time with Rigby. I know you want to be with him as often as you can the next two weeks.”

  Scarlett sighed. “I know, don’t remind me. I don’t even want to think about him not being here.” A lump formed in her throat, she swallowed it down.

  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

  She forced a smile. “No, it’s okay. It’s not like I haven’t been thinking about it.” Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about it as much as she normally would because she was so consumed with the house.

  Harper clutched Scarlett’s arm, and said in a low tone, “Well, butter my biscuit … incoming at two o’clock.”

  Pepper McClain strode toward them, a haughty expression on her heavily made-up face. “I’m so sorry about your house,” Pepper began, her voice oozing sweetness.

  “Thanks,” Scarlett said, wondering what this was all about.

  “If you’re here to eat at the restaurant, you can see the hostess out front to get a table,” Harper said tartly.

  Pepper’s smile fell a notch as she pulled her purse strap over her shoulder. “No, I didn’t come here to eat. I just wanted to say I hope there’s no hard feelings …” she wrinkled her nose “… you know, about Rocket.” Her eyes glittered triumphantly. “You know how fickle celebrity football players can be.”

  The words came at Scarlett like a sucker punch. Then came the splintering anger. “What’re you talking about?” she demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah,” Harper said, “You’d better explain yourself, fast, sister. Otherwise, I’m gonna be mopping the floor with your teased hair.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Pepper stammered, stumbling back. “I—I assumed you’d read The Clementine Connection.”

  Harper perched a hand on her hip. “No, missy, we haven’t, but I suggest you spill it … now!”

  Pepper started blinking so rapidly it’s a wonder her fake eyelashes didn’t fly off. She shook her head back and forth. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, then fled.

  An icy fear coated Scarlett’s throat. “What do you think she was talking about?”

  “I don’t know,” Harper said, “but it can’t be good. Let’s go to the back office and get on the computer.”

  Scarlett nodded, feeling like the walls were closing in around her. Her heart was pounding a sickly beat, her hands clammy as she clenched them, her nails digging into her palms as Harper typed in the web address.

  “What in the heck?” Harper muttered when she read the headline, then skimmed the article that talked about how Rigby had been sneaking around with Pepper McClain and buying her flowers.

  Scarlett could only gasp. Pain streaked across her forehead, and she had the eerie impression of being severed from her body.

  Harper put a hand to her mouth. “It can’t be true. There’s no way Rigby’s seeing Pepper behind your back.”

  Tears blurred Scarlett’s vision. Her head whirled, and she wasn’t sure what to think.

  “It’s just idle gossip,” Harper said.

  Scarlett jumped when she heard a knock at the door. She turned, surprised to see Vernon.

  His gaze went to her face. “Is everything okay?”

  Hastily, she wiped away the tears. Unfortunately, the screen of the computer faced the door. He glanced at it, and Scarlett could tell from the sympathetic look on his face that he’d already read the post. “I can come back later.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Scarlett countered. “What do you need?”

  “I just wanted to give you a progress report on Douglas. He’s doing really well.”

  “Thanks,” she said tersely. Was it true? Was Rigby running around with Pepper behind her back? The notion seemed so absurd, and yet Pepper had all but admitted it a few minutes ago. But she didn’t trust Pepper McClain further than she could throw her. She wanted to dart out of here this instant and confront Rigby. She realized Vernon was talking, and she hadn’t heard a word he said. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

  “If you need to talk, I’m here,” Vernon said.

  “Sure you are,” Harper coughed. She shook her head. “I don’t believe for one minute that Rigby’s seeing Pepper McClain. This is some cockamamie story Maryanne Wheatley dreamt up to get attention for her blog.”

  “Let’s not discuss this now,” Scarlett said, cutting her eyes at Vernon.

  Harper waved a hand. “Why the heck not? It’s not like
the whole town’s not talking about it.”

  “Harper’s right.” He looked at Scarlett. “Sorry, but it’s true. You know, if you’re trying to get to the bottom of it, the easiest thing to do would be to stop by the florist.”

  “What?” Scarlett barked.

  “I’m sure you’re right, Harper. It’s most likely idle gossip,” Vernon said.

  “Thank you,” Scarlett said, her eyes going moist. It meant a lot that Vernon would say that.

  “If you’re really worried about it, you could ask who sent the flowers. There’s bound to be a record of it.” Vernon shrugged. “Anyway, it’s none of my business.” He bowed slightly and stepped back. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I was stopping in for lunch and just wanted to give you a quick update.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  When he left, Harper leaned back in her chair and propped her hands behind her head. “You know, I think that’s a good idea. You should stop by the flower shop and get to the bottom of this.” She paused. “But I can tell you right now, I don’t believe a word of this rubbish.”

  Scarlett wasn’t sure what to think. “He took Pepper to the concert.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, but that’s because I told him to.”

  “What,” Scarlett blustered, whipping her head around. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you needed a push … something to make you realize how you truly felt about Rigby.”

  She felt betrayed. “So, that night when I texted you to get advice, you were playing me the whole time?”

  Harper’s face turned a deep red. “No, I was leading you in the right direction. I did it out of love.” She sat up straight. “Look, the bottom line is that Rigby’s crazy about you. The two of you are good together.”

  Tears pooled in Scarlett’s eyes as she looked away.

  “Don’t let Maryanne Wheatley, Pepper McClain, and all the other morons in this town get in your way. Go to the flower shop and get to the bottom of this.”

  She reached for her purse, her eyes narrowing. “I intend to.”

  Rigby couldn’t believe his ears. “What?” he exploded as a hot fury burned through him. “Douglas Foster is suing me?”

  “Yeah, man. I just got a call from the attorneys,” Monroe said. “They’re trying to figure out how to handle this.” He swore under his breath. “This is bad. I told you to lay low. Told you we didn’t need another incident, and what do you do? You have to run into a burning house and drop an elderly man on your way out.”

  “I saved his life!”

  “Well, he doesn’t see it that way.” Long pause. “I don’t have to tell you what this could mean for your career. You’re already treading on thin ice. I’m not sure I can fix this.”

  Rigby blew out a breath, trying to get control of his anger when what he wanted to do was march to the bed and breakfast and pound some sense into Douglas Foster. He couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. “I should’ve just let the old man burn,” he said bitterly.

  “Yeah, maybe,” Monroe agreed.

  Guilt immediately pummeled over Rigby. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” He raked a hand through his hair, a feeling of desperation coming over him. He needed to talk to Scarlett. Get her take on this.

  “I’m afraid there’s more,” Monroe continued.

  He let out a harsh laugh. “More? What else could there possibly be?”

  “Douglas Foster has agreed to hold a press conference with Miles Devlin tomorrow at the Clementine Town Hall.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better!” He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Everything he’d worked for was hanging in the balance, and Mr. Foster was tipping the scale.

  “You’ve gotta fix this, man. That’s your only hope. Go talk to Douglas Foster. Find out what he wants. Everybody wants something, know what I mean?”

  “I know what he wants,” Rigby fired back. “He wants me to stay away from his daughter.”

  “Okay, then make a deal with him. You’ve got to see the big picture. No girl’s worth losing your career, and that’s exactly what’ll happen if Douglas Foster goes through with this. You’ve got too many strikes against you already.”

  There was no way he was giving Scarlett up. Not for Douglas Foster or anyone else! “I’ve gotta let you go.”

  “Go talk to him, Rocket. But whatever you do, don’t lose your temper.”

  He clenched his jaw, feeling the need to punch something. “I’m headed there now.”

  “What was that about?”

  He turned to face Coralee. She pushed her glasses up on her nose, her face etched with worry as she waited for him to respond.

  “Douglas Foster is suing me for dropping him and injuring his leg.”

  Her face fell as she stumbled back. Rigby rushed to her side, helping her to the couch. She sat down, shaking her head, her face pale. “I don’t believe it.”

  “I’m afraid it’s true.” He pushed his hands through his hair.

  “Why would Douglas do such a thing?”

  “Because he hates me. He’s always hated me.”

  She sat there, in a daze. “It makes no sense,” she muttered, anger overtaking her as her eyes narrowed. “This could destroy you.”

  “I’m sure that’s his intent.”

  She drew herself up. “I’m going to call him this instant and have a nice little chat.”

  “You do that. I’m going over there to do it in person.” He was halfway out the door when she spoke. “Rigby?”

  He turned, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.” She peered at him over her glasses. “Promise me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he uttered. “I promise.”

  16

  Scarlett had just gotten back from the flower shop when she heard the pounding on the door. She opened it, and Rigby rushed in, furious.

  “I just got a call from my agent who spoke with my attorney. Your grandpa is suing me.” He paced back in forth in front of her. “And that’s not all. He’s holding a press conference tomorrow at the town hall with the very reporter who’s been trying to bury me.”

  “What?” She was still reeling from what she’d found out at the flower shop and now this. Everything was coming at her so fast she could hardly keep up. In the first place, she was beyond ticked at Rigby and mad at herself for letting her guard down where he was concerned. He’d waltzed back into town, and she’d fallen hard for him. Now she was paying the price.

  “Douglas is suing me for fracturing his leg when I stumbled and dropped him.” A crazed look came into his eyes. “What’re you gonna do about this?”

  She rocked back, bristling, her hands going to her hips. “What am I gonna do?”

  “Yeah, he’s your grandpa.” His jaw hardened as he threw up his hands. “I just can’t believe he’d be so spiteful, after I risked my life to save him.” He let out a harsh laugh. “If the old man were here, I’d give him a piece of my mind.”

  “I am here,” Douglas muttered, hobbling in on crutches. “If you’ve got something to say to me, you can say it right now.”

  Rage twisted Rigby’s face. “How could you do this? I went into that burning house. Carried you out. If I hadn’t been there, you would’ve died.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Scarlett warned. “You don’t want the whole bed and breakfast to hear you.”

  “I don’t care who hears me,” Rigby yelled.

  Douglas glared at him. “If you hadn’t interfered, the firemen would’ve come in and gotten me. And they wouldn’t have dropped me on the floor and fractured my leg.”

  Rigby let out a humorless laugh. “You keep telling yourself that, old man.” He pointed at Douglas. “You and I both know that if I hadn’t gone in and gotten you out, you would’ve died that day, you stubborn fool. And I don’t want accolades for it, because I only did what anyone would have done, but I don’t want to be sued for it either.”

  Scarlett went cold, a bleak despair snaking ar
ound her heart. Everything was falling apart right in front of her eyes.

  “I don’t like the tone of your voice,” Douglas countered. “You have no right to barge in and start making accusations.”

  “You want accusations? I’ll give you accusations! This has nothing to do with the fire or your leg. You hate me because I’m with Scarlett, and that’s why you’re determined to drag my name through the mud.”

  “You’re not good enough for Scarlett, and you never have been. Why don’t you slink back to Tampa where you belong and leave us alone?”

  Rigby balled his fist. “I should’ve left you in that burning house.”

  “Enough!” Scarlett yelled. “Stop it!” Tears sprang to her eyes as she eyed them both. She turned to Rigby. “First of all, you and I aren’t together anymore!”

  He rocked back, his face draining. “What?”

  “Did you really think you could sneak around with Pepper McClain behind my back, send her flowers?” Her voice caught, the hurt slicing through her. “I trusted you, Rigby.”

  Rigby frowned. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Save it,” she barked. “I’ve been to the flower shop, talked to Cindy Stubblefield. She told me you came by the shop and paid cash for the flowers.”

  “Scarlett, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve only been out with Pepper McClain once since I’ve been in Clementine, and you know about that. I took her to the concert because Harper said it would make you jealous.”

  Rigby sounded so convincing that she almost believed him, despite the mounting evidence. “Pepper came into the restaurant today, dropping hints about the two of you being together, said there was something about it in The Clementine Connection.”

  He let out an incredulous laugh. “And you believed her?”

  “No, not at first, but then I went to the blog and read the article about how you’d been seeing her and buying her flowers. Then Vernon suggested that I go to the florist and find out who ordered the flowers.”

  Rigby’s eyes turned to balls of ice, his voice razor sharp. “When did you talk to Vernie?”