For Rigby, the next three weeks flew by at a record pace as he and Scarlett transitioned effortlessly from their “first date” to a steady relationship. It was amazing how quickly he’d settled into a comfortable routine in Clementine, almost to the point where time felt suspended. On weekdays, he got up every morning at six and worked out for a couple of hours, then ate breakfast with Coralee. Now that the house was completely painted, he turned his attention to the landscaping. He typically worked in the yard until around noon, then he’d shower and head to The Magnolia for a late lunch with Scarlett around two-thirty after the rush was over. Then he’d go back home and relax for a few hours until Scarlett got off work, and they’d spend the rest of the evening together. The weekends were even better because he and Scarlett spent their entire Saturday together, then went to church on Sunday. The only break in this schedule was when Rigby drove to Daphne to attend the anger management class, which wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. The only dark cloud in an otherwise sunny sky was that Rigby had only four more weeks in Clementine before going back to Tampa. Monroe had been in close contact with the Director of Player Personnel who asserted that the Titans were eager to get Rigby back on the team, if he continued to lay low and keep his nose clean over the next four weeks.

Rigby chuckled as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his tie. If this was laying low, he’d sign up for it a hundred times over. Today after church, Coralee was making a big, Sunday lunch at her house. Admittedly, Rigby was a little nervous because it was the first time Mr. Foster was joining them. Unfortunately, things were still as tense between Rigby and the old man as ever. If anything, Mr. Foster had gotten worse since he and Scarlett became so close. He sighed wishing there was something he could do to help the situation, but Scarlett kept telling him it would take time. “Once Grandpa realizes that we’re together for good, he’ll come around,” she kept saying. Rigby certainly hoped that was the case.

“Are you almost ready?” Coralee called.

“Yes, I’ll be right down.” It was a few minutes past nine, and the church service didn’t start until ten. It would take them all of fifteen minutes to get there, but Coralee hated being late. So, they’d get there super early, and Rigby would cool his heels for thirty minutes or so while Coralee chatted with members of the congregation.

She was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs and handed him the keys to her Cadillac. Coralee had two cars—a Chevrolet Impala and a Cadillac nearly as old as Rigby. The Chevrolet was her running-around car for weekdays, and the Cadillac was reserved for Sundays. She’d insisted Rigby wash it the day before and get it gassed up and ready to go. He loved how Coralee was a stickler for tradition.

“You look spiffy,” she said, looking him up and down.

“Thanks. You look breathtaking.”

She blushed as she giggled. “Always the charmer.”

Rigby had been throwing around the same compliment since he was a teenager. Breathtaking might’ve been a stretch, but Coralee looked cute in her pastel-blue, floral dress with cream lace at the neck and sensible, blue shoes. The best part was her cream hat cocked at a jaunty angle on her head, silver curls peeking out beneath.

The white chapel on the hill with the tall steeple marked the cornerstone of Rigby’s growing-up years. As a kid, he’d come here time and time again with Coralee who was either singing in the choir or serving on some committee. He remembered playing under the pews and getting in trouble for snatching a few dollars from the collection tray when he thought no one was looking. He held Coralee’s arm as she strode regally in and chose her regular seat three rows from the front. Then she patted Rigby’s hand. “I’ve got a few things to take care of before the service begins.”

He smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll be just fine.” Not a minute after she left, Rigby felt a tug. He turned, surprised to see Pepper McClain. She was wearing a tight dress more appropriate for a night club than church.

“Good morning,” she chirped, placing a manicured hand on his arm.

“Hey.” As casually as he could, without causing a scene, he removed his arm from her grasp.

She looked him up and down with open admiration. “How’s life treating you, Rocket?” she purred.

“I’m doing okay. How about you, Pepper?”

“Can’t complain. The kids are back in school. Gives me lots of free time during the day.” She lowered her voice and leaned in. “If you ever wanna stop by, you’re always welcome. We had such a great time together at the concert.” An insinuating smile spread over her lips. “I’m sure we can find a way to occupy our time.”

He stiffened. “I’m good, thanks.” He caught a whiff of her musky perfume so potent it made his eyes water. Someone needed to tell her to tone it way down.

She winked. “I know you’re good, darling. That’s why I’m inviting you over.”

It always astounded Rigby how forward some women were. He’d thought she was a nice divorcee who was a bit over zealous in her attempt to score a new man, but this was absurd, a side of Pepper he’d not seen. An alley cat had more scruples. Rigby found her manner downright repulsive. His eyes narrowed. “I’m with Scarlett Foster now.”

Her smile fell a notch, but she fastened it back on as she lifted her chin, her eyes going cold. “Your loss, darling.”

She flipped her hair strutting away.

Rigby breathed a sigh of relief when she was gone. He pitied the poor fool who would eventually get ensnared by her.

He felt someone watching him and looked across the chapel to where Vernie Stanley was sitting. Vernie’s hand went up in a wave that looked more like a salute. Rigby returned the gesture with a curt nod. He was about to turn away when Vernie stood and strode toward him. Rigby tensed, not sure what to expect. When two men loved the same woman there was bound to be trouble, and he needed to avoid conflict at all costs. No matter what Vernie said or did, he had to remain calm. He was more than a little surprised when Vernie offered a friendly smile.

“Rocket.”

“Vernie.” He hadn’t meant to be insulting, but the name just slipped out. He cleared his throat. “Vernon,” he corrected.

“I just want to clear the air between us to make sure there’s no misunderstanding,” Vernie said, his upper lip stiff.

“Okay.” The man was so painfully awkward that it hurt watching him.

“As hard as it is for me to lose Scarlett …” He cleared his throat and began again. “Above all, I just want her to be happy.”

The words came out clipped and forced, and Rigby could only guess what it must’ve cost Vernie to say them. In that moment, he felt a little sorry for Vernie—felt his pain of losing Scarlett. He’d experienced it first hand and knew how grueling it was. “Thank you. For what it’s worth, Scarlett never meant to hurt you. Unfortunately, you got caught in the middle of something that’s been going on since we were kids.”

“Take good care of her.”

The edge in Vernie’s voice caused Rigby’s jaw to tense. “I plan on it.”

Vernie nodded, a tight smile forming over his lips. “No hard feelings then?”

Rigby relaxed. “No hard feelings.” He admired that Vernie had gone out of his way to mend fences. If the situation had been reversed, Rigby didn’t know if he could be so magnanimous.

Vernie thrust out his hand, and the two shook on it. Then Rigby caught sight of Scarlett out of the corner of his eye. Vernie saw her too and flinched.

Rigby teased Coralee about being breathtaking, but Scarlett really was in her flowing, red dress that showed off her curves. The neckline was cut in a “V”, highlighting her exquisite neck. Every eye in the room seemed to follow her as she stepped up, her eyes a mixture of concern and surprise as she looked at the two men. “Hello.” Rigby couldn’t help feeling a burst of pride when she moved close to him. He put a protective arm around her waist.

“You look lovely as always,” Vernie said smoothly, but his face had gone pale.

“Thanks,” Scarlett mumbled, giving Rigby a questioning look.

Rigby could only shrug, an awkward silence between the three of them until finally Vernie spoke.

“I’ll leave you two alone. Good day.” He turned on his heel and walked briskly away.

When he was out of earshot, Scarlett turned to Rigby. “What was that about?”

“He came over to tell me he doesn’t want hard feelings between us. He just wants you to be happy.”

She raised her eyebrows, wrinkling her forehead. “Really?”

“That’s what he said.”

Her forehead creased. “Don’t you think it’s strange that he went out of his way to speak to you?”

He shrugged. “I’m as surprised as you that he came over.”

“Hmm,” she mused.

“What?”

“That was a little much, don’t you think? Giving us his blessing?”

He rubbed his neck. “I dunno. Maybe. You always said he was a nice guy. Maybe he’s just trying to bury the hatchet.”

“Yeah … I guess.”

He chuckled. “Oh, don’t be too hard on ole Vernie. Losing you has to be crushing.”

She tipped her head, a mischievous grin revealing her adorable dimples. “Really?”

“Really,” he said firmly. “I know from sad experience, and I don’t plan on letting it happen again.” He pulled her close, planting a kiss on her cheek as she laughed.

“Not in church,” she giggled.

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, if I must refrain, I must. But only if you promise to make it up to me later.” Her eyes widened, and he loved how her cheeks went pink.

“You’re terrible,” she cooed, her dark eyes sparkling.

He winked. “Yes, and you love me for it.”

* * *

Another week had passed and Rigby and Scarlett were still no closer to finding a solution to the Clementine and Tampa situation. In three short weeks, Rigby would be back in the trenches in Tampa. Normally, he’d be chomping at the bit to get back in the game, were it not for having to leave Scarlett. There was no way he could ask her to give up her restaurant and follow him to Tampa. Scarlett’s restaurant was her baby. She’d worked hard to get it off the ground and now, in a strange turn of events, it was doing great, thanks to the notoriety she’d received over the ten-thousand-dollar sweet potato pie. It was funny how things worked out. Rigby bid the exorbitant amount on the pie in the hopes of letting Scarlett know how much he still cared, and had no idea it would end up helping her business. Plus, she’d gotten the favorable write-up from the blogger, who also mentioned the pie in her article. Rigby felt very blessed that things were working out so well with Scarlett, aside from not knowing how they’d manage a long-distance relationship, once he went back to Tampa. He’d felt so lost before coming here and prayed for direction. The answer had been to come to Clementine. He assumed he needed to help Coralee, but now he knew it was also because he needed Scarlett back in his life. He hoped getting back together was good for her, too. He wanted to be able to put her needs before his, but to the depth of his soul he didn’t want to give up his football career. He’d just have to keep praying that it would all work out.

He leaned back into the comfort of the couch, stretching his legs out on the coffee table as he flipped through channels. Over a hundred channels and nothing on. Tonight was one of those rare evenings when he found himself alone at the house. Coralee was playing bridge with her lady friends and Scarlett had to work late at the restaurant, hosting a private dinner for a group of executives in town for a retreat. The secretary who made the travel arrangements for the group saw the blog post and booked the venue last minute. Of course Scarlett happily accommodated them for the exposure it would bring. Rigby was starting to get a little restless. When he wasn’t spending time with Scarlett or working on the landscaping, there wasn’t a whole lot to do in Clementine. Twenty minutes later, he was getting up to get a snack when a flash of light caught his attention. He flinched, not believing what he was seeing.

Scarlett’s house was on fire!

Thick smoke billowed from the roof and the orange flames of the fire were what caught his attention. His first thought was one of relief that Scarlett was at work. Then another thought struck him, shooting terror into his heart. Mr. Foster was most likely in the house. Pausing only long enough to slip on his tennis shoes, Rigby ran outside. Concerned neighbors were gathered, talking furiously amongst themselves and pointing at the house.

“Has anyone called the fire department?” Rigby yelled.

“Yes, they’re on their way,” Sadie Lynn said.

“Has anyone seen Mr. Foster?”

Sadie Lynn’s eyes widened, her face tight with fear as she clutched her neck. “I think he’s still inside.”

Rigby jerked when he heard glass shatter, and a ball of fire shot out of the kitchen window. Then a loud pop rent the air sounding like a shot gun the instant before the back section of the roof caved in. He heard the shocked murmurs from onlookers as instinct took over, and he raced up the front steps.

“You can’t go in there,” someone yelled.

The front door was locked. He stepped back and kicked it in. When the door opened, an acrid smoke poured out. Rigby pulled his t-shirt over his nose as he rushed in, his eyes burning. Luckily, the front section of the house wasn’t on fire. “Mr. Foster,” he yelled. “Douglas!” He coughed, expelling smoke from his lungs as he made his way from room to room, shielding his face. “Douglas!” he screamed. “Are you in here?” The fire was in the back. Rigby coughed, trying to stay low to avoid the smoke. If Douglas was in the kitchen where the fire was raging, there might be little hope for him. He opened the door to Douglas’s bedroom and saw him on the floor by the bed. He rushed over, shaking him.

“Douglas!”

Douglas jerked and coughed, but his eyes remained closed. He was unconscious.

“We’ve gotta get you out of here.”

Exerting all his strength, he picked Douglas up and heaved him over his shoulders, trying to balance the dead weight as he made his way through the house. Rigby had made it down the hall and to the living room when a wave of dizziness overtook him. He stumbled, dropping Douglas on the floor where he hit with a thud and groaned. Rigby doubled over, a coughing fit overtaking him. He lifted his shirt to his mouth, trying to get a good breath. The fire was now pushing through the hall, the heat feeling like an inferno on his back as buckets of sweat dripped from his head. Smoke was billowing around him, stinging his eyes and making it hard to see. His lungs were desperate for fresh air, and he had the eerie impression the very jaws of hell were gaping open to clutch him. He had to be strong to save Mr. Foster and himself. Heavenly Father, please help me, he prayed. The answer came immediately as a burst of strength pulsed through him. All he needed was one final push to get them out the door. He heard the screeching sound of sirens as he picked Douglas back up. This time carrying him like a baby as he half ran, half stumbled through the living room and out the front door. He managed to carry Douglas down the front steps and to the yard where he collapsed, drawing in a ragged breath. Rigby saw the firemen moving toward them, almost like a dream, then everything faded.

* * *

The dinner party was going well. Scarlett couldn’t get over how much business had picked up over the past few weeks, and she owed most of the success to Rigby and his pie stunt. Who would’ve thought that paying ten thousand dollars for a pie would give the restaurant so much publicity. Of course, the fact that Rocket Breeland, the superstar quarterback was the one who paid the money made all the difference.

Every day with Rigby was a gift, and Scarlett didn’t want to think about him leaving. As much as she wanted to go with Rigby to Tampa, she couldn’t leave the restaurant. But she might be able to work out something with Harper, get her to oversee the restaurant two or three days each week so Scarlett could go to Tampa. Once the football season was over, Rigby could live in Clementine until he had to start his offseason training activities in the spring. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but Scarlett couldn’t think of another solution.

“Look at you,” Harper said, giving her a sly look. “I don’t think your feet have touched the ground since you and Rigby got back together. At this rate, you’re gonna sprout wings and fly right out of here.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

Harper winked. “I’m happy for you, sugar. You deserve this.” She cocked her head, studying Scarlett. “So, have you figured out what you’re gonna do when Rigby goes back to Tampa?”

Scarlett let out a long sigh. “Not completely, but I have a few ideas.”

“Any of those ideas involve me, by chance?”

She chuckled. “I was gonna talk to you about this later, but since you brought it up. I’m thinking that maybe I could spend a portion of the week in Tampa and let you oversee the restaurant. If it keeps going like it is, money will no longer be a limitation. I can pay you more.”

Harper’s lips formed a bright smile. “That sounds great.” She paused stroking her chin, a crafty look in her eyes. “Or, you could just hire me to manage the restaurant full-time, so you won’t have to go back-and-forth as often.”

“Oh, I don’t think I can do that.”

Harper’s face fell. “What? You don’t trust me?”

“No … I mean, yes. Of course, I trust you. I love the restaurant, and need to have a hand in it.”

“You still can. You just don’t have to be here every single day. Have you given anymore thought to franchising? The blogger, Beverly Blanche seemed pretty confident she could put you in touch with the right people.”

“Yeah, a little. But that seems premature when we’ve only just now gotten this location off the ground and running. And we have no guarantee business will continue to go well.”

“I think you should consider it. I was doing a little research and there’s a town—a suburb of Tampa called Dunedin. It reminds me a lot of Clementine, and there’s a touristy destination nearby called Honeymoon Island that would bring in a lot of traffic. We’d have to travel there to know for sure, but it seems like a good possibility. I can hold down the fort here, and you can manage that from Tampa.”

Scarlett laughed, surprised. “You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” She was coming to learn that Harper had a great head for business. “First of all, I haven’t even talked to the investors Beverly mentioned. And second, we don’t know if anyone would be interested in buying a franchise, especially in a specific location.”

“Okay, then you open the restaurant.”

Her eyes rounded. “With what capital?”

“Hello,” she chimed. “You’re dating a rich football player. I’m sure he’s good for the money.”

She shook her head, her lips drawing into a firm line. “No way. I could never ask Rigby to give me money.”

“You wouldn’t be asking him to give you money. You’d be asking him to invest in your business. And if he won’t do it, I’m sure there are any number of banks who will.”

“I’ll think about it. Geez. You’re so pushy,” she quipped, a smile breaking over her face. A few weeks ago, she was worried about how she was going to keep the doors open, and now they were talking about expansion. Great things were happening. Her phone rang. She frowned. “It’s Sadie Lynn Armstrong.”

Harper pulled a face. “I wonder what she wants.”

“Hello …” Scarlett’s heart dropped as she gasped. “Oh, no.” Tears sprang to her eyes as she ended the call. “My house is on fire,” she squeaked.

Harper’s hand flew to her mouth. “Is your grandpa okay?”

“Yes, thanks to Rigby. He went into the house and saved him. According to Sadie Lynn, Chuck Wolfley a volunteer fireman said that if Rigby hadn’t gone in when he did …” Her voice broke. “Grandpa would’ve died of smoke inhalation. Rigby saved his life.”

“Are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re taking Grandpa to the hospital in Daphne to make sure his lungs are okay. Rigby’s doing well.”

“Your house?”

Any response Scarlett could formulate got snuffed out in a sob. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, reaching for her purse and car keys.