Page 8 of Beneath Southern Stars

“Can I get you anything else?” I ask, moving to the large tablet and punching in the order.

“Maybe a water? Pep, why don’t you go find us a place to sit while I pay.”

The little girl skips away, and the man watches her climb into a booth. When he turns back around, he asks, “Would you mind adding a kids scoop of chocolate chip in a cup? I’m going to try and get her to share with me, but I like to have a backup just in case.”

“Of course. Better to be prepared. You called her Pep. Is that short for Peppermint?” Not that I think this man would name his child after a flavor but who knows. You hear about people naming their children after fruits and directions so maybe it isn’t too far-fetched.

I’ll ignore the little swoop my belly does at the sound of his laugh. It’s not a chuckle but a full laugh. With one brow raised and both hands resting on the counter, I wait for him to finish. I didn’t think it was that funny but clearly he does, becausehe’s wiping tears from his eyes. Taking a deep breath and I am absolutely not noticing the way his eyes crinkle as he smiles. And there is no way I’m aware of how pillowy his lips are. That would be weird.

“Wow. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. Thank you for making me laugh. It’s been a while. No, her name is not Peppermint. It’s Pepper. Well, that’s what she goes by.”

“Pepper. I like it. And you are? Salty?”

He laughs again, my dig gentle but with meaning. “Ryan.”

I extend my hand and smile. “Nice to meet you, Ryan, father of Pepper.”

There is absolutely no feeling running up my arm as his hand engulfs mine. The tips of his fingers are rough on my skin. It’s not displeasing. If I were to notice, which I’m not.

“Your total is sev... uhm, seven dollars,” I sputter as I gain my wits. Ryan smiles and although his beard hides a lot, I can still tell there are no matching dimples to Pepper. “If you’d like to join Pepper, I’ll bring over your treats in a few minutes.”

“Thanks. Laney, right?”

“Yep,” I reply, popping the “p” and hating how immature I sound. He’s some random guy with calloused fingers who took his daughter on a date. It’s not like he’s some sort of mythical creature, like a unicorn.

He walks away and settles into the booth, and I do everything I can for the next few minutes to ignore him. Once Ginny has the banana split finished, I take that with the scoop of chocolate chip over to the table with a simple, “Here you go.” And then I round the counter again, slipping the apron over my head.

“Laney, oh my goodness. Do you?—?”

“I’m here!”

Ginny doesn’t get to finish her question as another teen, Micah I think is his name, rushes in, drawing her attention. Bythe pinkening of her cheeks, I think Micah is more than a co-worker to her.

With the apron tossed toward Micah, I grab my purse, slinging it on my shoulder as I rush out of the shop toward Jitterbug. Like anytime I come to town, I encounter no less than four people who insist on stopping me to say hello and either ask about the Jubilee or how Uncle Freddy is enjoying his trip. Bless them for caring but really, we know they are all going to share notes with one another, why can’t they just send one representative?

By the time I’ve got my blended pick-me-up and plow through the doors of One More Page, my shirt is a little damp from the humidity and my speedwalking to get here. With a long draw from the straw, the frosty goodness rushes straight to my head and I groan with brain freeze. The customers turn toward me, and I wave them off with a very toothy, teeth gritting, smile.

Once I’ve gathered my wits and manage to stow my items behind the counter, I check in with the rest of the staff and get to work shelving books and other inventory. There’s something about the feeling of a book in my hands. It’s not as calming as dirt but there is so much power on these pages, regardless of the genre or type of book. I’m an equal topic bibliophile. It’s hard for me to find a resource or biography I don’t enjoy. It’s the academic in me, I’m sure. But fiction awakens a different part of my mind each time. Whether it’s a mystery or thriller that challenges me to analyze and problem solve, or, a beautifully written romance that gives me a direct shot of dopamine, I love losing myself in a good story.

Humming to myself as I read the back of a new romantic suspense book, I am not prepared for the question that is laced with accusation more than a request for assistance.

“Are you following me?”

Chapter Six

Ryan

Laney spins,her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. I can feel the tension rolling off her like the heat that oil in a hot pan produces. Her eyebrows lift so high on her forehead it would be funny if I didn’t know she was pissed. Like she has a reason. After the last hour walking through town, I thought what Gordon guaranteed was true. My celebrity was a non-issue in Magnolia Grove. With the exception of the girl at the ice cream shop, who kept stealing glances and fumbling with her tools when I caught her, not one person seemed to care about us.

Pepper skipped and smiled the entire walk through Magnolia Park and even tossed a penny in the fountain when we stopped to tie her shoes. For the first time in months, life felt normal. Okay, notnormalbut less heavy. We were just a dad and daughter out for a walk, and it felt good.

Until we walked through the doors of this bookstore and Pepper saw Laney. I doubt Pepper’s interest is in the woman herself and more about the furry creature she owns. Yet, she drags me in her direction. My hackles are up instantly.

Her eyes blink rapidly but Laney doesn’t answer my question. I straighten my back and lift my chin. I need to nipthis before she starts gossiping about us being here. So much for anonymity.

“Are you?” I grit out.

Brows furrowed; Laney tilts her head but doesn’t speak. Instead, she starts laughing. Not a chortle like one would expect but a full belly laugh that draws attention from the others in the store. It would be obvious if I were to put my sunglasses back on. Instead, I run my hand down my face, hoping nobody will be able to recognize me.

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