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“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.
