by Louisa West
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Rosie was bored out of her brain. She’d had a total of three customers since lunch, and two of them gave her such stern looks as she served them that she wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t come back. It looked like Terry’s tale of woe at the hands of the new woman in town was spreading like wildfire. The bastard.
Ben had spent the afternoon in his office chatting to Maggie and shuffling through paperwork. He could do the task at night or at the counter between customers, and Rosie wondered if he needed her at all. Then she felt bad, hoping that her incident with Terry hadn't put people off shopping in the store.
She grabbed her bag, collected Maggie, saying goodbye to Ben before finishing her shift and ducking out of the store onto Main Street. The single cop car sat outside the Sheriff’s Department across the road, and an elderly man sat on a bench outside the medical center next door to it. He waved to Rosie, and she smiled, waving back. That was the kind of good down-home feeling she was craving. But she wondered how long it would last, with Prissy and her posse on the warpath.
“Rosie Bell?!”
The voice was high-pitched, and the tone disbelieving. Rosie spun to see two women on the sidewalk directly in her path. She felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.
The taller woman wore tight jeans, a black tank top, and black biker boots. The shorter woman was platinum blonde and wore a sour expression that matched her lemon-yellow pinup dress. They were chalk and cheese, and Rosie knew that better than anyone. Back in Atlanta, these women had been the sum of her circle of friends.
“Raquel, Mimi—hi,” Rosie said cautiously, bringing Maggie close and pushing a smile onto her face. She was glad to see them but concerned about why they were two hours north of Atlanta in the tiny town she had escaped to from Randy.
“We wondered where on earth you’d got to,” Mimi said, her concern for Rosie clear in her tone if not on her pinched face. “Especially when we tried your cell and got a disconnection message!”
Raquel was looking at her thoughtfully. “Randy just about turned the bar upside down, trying to shake information about you outta the place.”
Rosie bit her lip, her eyes skipping to down to Maggie and then back to the two women. She hesitated, wanting to lie—to pretend that she was skipping town in a matter of hours. Except now that she’d seen her friends, she wasn’t so sure it would be a lie. How long before Randy got her location out of them?
“Magnolia,” Rosie said, utilizing her ‘Mom Said’ tone, “why don’t you skip on ahead to that bench down a ways and read a bit more of your book while I catch up with Racquel and Mimi?”
Maggie nodded, doing as she was told.
“Please don’t tell him where I am,” Rosie begged as soon as she thought her child was out of earshot. Raquel slipped her arm through Rosie’s, moving them all down the sidewalk away from the doors of the Go-Go-Mart.
“Now don’t you fret. We’re only here to visit some little old dressmaker that Mimi here booked a fitting with. Ain’t nobody knows you’re here—ain’t that right, Mimi?”
Mimi nodded. “We won’t tell, Rosie. We promise.”
“Fact is,’ Raquel said, hugging Rosie’s arm tighter. “You ain’t done nothin’ that the both of us ain’t thought about doin’ a hundred times or more. You always did have that fire in ya, Rosie.”
Rosie relaxed a little, now that she knew she could count on her friends to keep her and Maggie off Randy’s radar.
“I knew he would lose it,” she murmured. “That sonofabitch didn’t want me, except to be his maid. At least now he doesn’t have to pretend to hide his sleepin’ around.” Rosie sighed. “I just feel bad for keepin’ Maggie from her Daddy. Even such a one as him.”
“Don’t you worry about that now!” Mimi huffed. With a brood of kids herself, her maternal instincts were sharp. “He’s been more butt-hurt about the indignity of you walkin’ out on him than worryin’ about his baby girl.”
“Asshole,” Rosie and Raquel said at the same time, and all three women laughed.
“I gotta go get Maggie,” Rosie said, breaking contact with Raquel. She looked at her friends, feeling her heart growing heavier with each second that passed. “I’d invite y’all for dinner, but—”
“—but it’s better that we don’t know nothin’ about nothin’,” Raquel said matter-of-factly. She pressed a kiss to Rosie’s cheek. “You go on now to your little one. And take care of yourself, Rosie.”
“You too.” Rosie gave them both a hug. “Both of you. If I can do it, so can you.”
Her friends looked wistful as they let her go. And even though they had promised to keep her secret, Rosie dragged Maggie home at break-neck speed, looking over her shoulder the whole time.
Chapter 5
Saturday dawned with a promise that had Rosie whistling as she tidied the kitchen before breakfast. Sun streamed through the newly cleaned kitchen window that framed the perfect view of Mosswood nestled in the crook of the Chickasaw river. Rosie rested her hip on the side of the kitchen sink, drying the last few dishes from dinner the night before.
Having a job, earning her own money, and doing her own thing felt fantastic. But there was a Randy-shaped cloud floating over her head that was threatening to rain on her parade. She didn’t think that Raquel and Mimi would rat her out, but she knew how persistent Randy could be when he wanted something. Once upon a time, it had been her.
But she couldn’t afford to live her life the same way she did when they had been under the same roof. Rosie had sworn to herself in the long, anxiety-inducing cab ride to Mosswood that she would never be controlled by another man as long as she lived, and she’d meant it. She had to set a good example for Maggie and teach her that life was more than doing what other people wanted you to do.
As if on cue, two tiny arms slipped around her waist from behind. Smiling, Rosie turned as far as she could to wrap an arm around her daughter’s shoulders.
“Morning, Pumpkin.” She pressed a kiss to the top of Maggie’s messy-haired head.
“Morning.”
It always amused Rosie how cranky Maggie sounded in the mornings. She was always up and at it early, usually before the sun was up. It was a cheat’s way of feeling like more could fit into one day, and it was a trick that Rosie had learned early on during her career as a mother.
“How’d you sleep?”
Maggie shrugged, burying her face into Rosie’s fluffy, bright teal dressing gown. It had daisies printed on all over it and had been a gift for her birthday last year. “Weird dreams,” Maggie muttered at last.
“About?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Rosie frowned slightly, pursing her lips. It wasn’t very often that Maggie didn’t want to share something with her. She knew that up and leaving Atlanta and Randy had been a big deal for them both and hoped Maggie was coping okay. Rosie remembered what they had been talking about a few days before while pulling weeds, and an idea popped into her head.
“You know what? Why don’t we get dressed and go explore the town? We can get something for breakfast while we’re out. Have a look at the river. Maybe there’s ducks!”
She heard Maggie’s excited gasp even before her daughter pulled back to look into her face.
“Really, Mom?”
“Really-really!” Rosie grinned, her heart swelling. She would do just about anything to see that look of bright enthusiasm on her child’s face. “Go get dressed—I’ll race you!”
“No fair, you’ve got longer legs than I do!”
Rosie laughed as she and Maggie climbed higher on the tall pyramid-style high ropes course. They had both been super excited to discover the playground right next to the river in town. Though Maggie was getting to be a little too old for most of the playground equipment there, the pyramid had sparked joy.
“Yeah, well, you’re quicker’n I am,” Rosie tossed back, grinning as she hoisted herself higher. “You should have been at the to
p already!”
“I don’t want to beat you too bad,” Maggie called. “I don’t wanna make you feel old.”
Great. Thanks. Rosie shook her head with a rueful laugh as she followed after her daughter. Maggie took after her side, she decided, even though she didn’t know what that might entail. Being in foster care meant that her side of the old family tree was pretty bare. But she’d met Randy’s parents, and she knew for a fact that her sweet girl didn’t keep any of their traits.
“Mom!” Maggie stopped climbing and huffed. “C’mon, you’re not even moving!”
“Right,” Rosie reached for the highest rope she could grab, looking to make up for lost time in more ways than one. She made it to the very tip of the pyramid only a couple of seconds after Maggie. The pair of them shared a hug as they looked out over what they could see of Mosswood. A gentle breeze took hold of a loose lock of Maggie’s dark hair, fluttering it underneath Rosie’s nose. She smiled and bent close to her daughter’s ear.
“Last one down’s a rotten egg,” she whispered.
Rosie was more calculated and less robust as she made her way back down the laddered ropes of the pyramid. Maggie made it to the ground fast, moving on to other playground equipment while she waited for her mom. As Rosie got close enough to the ground to jump, she grabbed a lower rope and swung, letting go at what she judged to be the right moment. She landed on the soft sand below the pyramid awkwardly. Her hands shot back up to find a rope to hold onto as she overbalanced, but they found solid flesh instead.
Declan looked down into her face, his characteristic swagger momentarily masked with concern. “Whoa there,” he said softly. “Are ya alright?”
Her hands had perched themselves on the solid curves of his biceps. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his grey polo shirt. He was so tall she had to crane her neck to look up into his face, which was inches from hers as he inspected her expression for signs of pain.
“Thanks,” she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
Maggie gave up on her swing and wandered over. In a move worthy of a comedy act, both adults straightened and attempted to look benevolent. She glanced between them, her eyes narrowing in an expression that said she wasn’t buying any of it.
“Mom, can we get ice cream?” she asked, pushing boundaries while she thought her mother’s resolve might be a little weaker. “There's a shop right over there.” She pointed with her chin to a row of stores lining the riverfront.
Rosie’s heart sank. There was absolutely no way her loose change could stretch to buying non-essential ice cream, and Ben had already told her that she’d get her first check on Tuesday... three whole days away. She’d been too ashamed to ask him for an advance. Rosie had already adopted an apologetic air as she started to respond, but Declan grinned at Maggie.
“Abso-fu-ahh-lutely,” he said, canceling out the curse word upon a sharp glare from Rosie.
“Awesome!” Maggie crowed, running on ahead, leaving Rosie to walk with Declan. “This is kind of you,” she admitted as they walked along the riverfront, “but it’s not necessary. We’ve never had a lot of money, so she’s good about having to wait for special occasions.”
The day was melting into one of those afternoons prepped for a stunning sunset. The grass on the banks of the river was short until the water’s edge, where it grew a little wild. Ducks quacked soft hellos as Rosie and Declan trailed along behind Maggie.
A strange shadow passed over Declan’s face. The arrogance he usually wore like a custom leather jacket was gone. “Buying you ice cream is the least I can do,” he said, shoving his huge hands into the pockets of his blue jeans.
Rosie frowned. “You don’t have to do anything,” she insisted.
“You’re my Queen,” he told her, as though saying that was the most natural thing in the world. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
She had to give him points for sticking with his story. And for persistence.
“Still with the Queen of the witches thing?” Rosie side-eyed him. “Really?”
“Witch Queen,” he corrected her, “accordin’ to royal protocols. And yes? It’s not as though I made it up to get in your pants.”
A laugh threatened to escape her. It had been a long time since any man—including Randy—had wanted to get into her pants. The fact that two men had tried it since she had come to town made her question the safety of the town’s water supply.
“That’s exactly what someone who had made it up to get in my pants would say,” she declared.
A knowing smirk caught hold of his lips, tempting her eyes to linger there a little longer than they should. With his beard and broad shoulders, he looked like a sexy lumberjack fresh out of some woodland grove.
Straight Outta Killarney.
Maggie abandoned her scooter at the door of Fortescue’s Ice Cream Emporium and raced inside with an enthusiasm that made Rosie smile. Declan stepped ahead of her to get the door, holding it open and standing to the side so she could pass through. He smiled at her as he waited for her to pass by.
“M’lady,” he murmured with the slightest dip of his head as she stepped through the doorway.
Maggie had insisted on sitting next to Declan, tucking into her Banana Bonanza sundae. Rosie settled for a cup of black coffee. She sipped at it more because it gave her something to do rather than out of any real need for caffeine.
Declan chatted with Maggie, answering countless questions about his funny accent, Ireland, and about why he was so tall. He licked his plain vanilla ice cream, all traces of his arrogance and self-important swagger blanketed by an effortless charm.
“Are there actually leprechauns in Ireland?” Maggie asked before digging out another spoonful of sundae. “Like, for real?”
He chuckled. “Well, now I don’t know anythin’ ‘bout no leprechauns.” He sank back against the powder blue vinyl seat of the booth they were in. “But I can tell ya that Ireland is full t’the brim with witches.”
Rosie met his gaze over the brim of her coffee cup, her eyes narrowing. If he started the witch-talk with Maggie, she would put the brakes on this outing so fast he’d get whiplash.
“I don’t like witches,” Maggie complained, showing her cherry to the side of her plate with her spoon. “They’re scary.”
“Some witches are scary,” he agreed, nodding his head in deference to Rosie. He reached for the cherry stalk, plucking it from the bowl. Rosie’s annoyance at the witch talk flared into dismay over the loss of those empty Maraschino calories. “But most of them are good people.”
He held the cherry out across the table by the stalk, jiggling it at Rosie. She glanced at it, then back to him.
Later that night, when replayed the day in her mind, she would think about that moment. The sensation as she took the cherry from the Irishman would come back to her as a spreading heat. Little sparks of warmth jumped from his fingertips to hers, leaving an impression that would affect her for hours afterward.
Declan smirked.
Maggie hadn’t even looked up from stirring her ice cream into banana-flavored soup. “Do you know some witches?” she asked, mystified.
“I’ve met my fair share,” he teased.
“Cool!”
Declan grinned. “See?” he told Rosie. “Your wee’an thinks I’m cool.”
“She’s ten,” Rosie countered with sass, “and you bought her ice cream.”
He glanced back at Maggie, narrowing his eyes with false suspicion. “Ten?! I thought she was twenty!” he exclaimed with a gasp that made her dissolve into giggles.
It took Rosie a full two hours after Maggie had fallen asleep to be able to relax. She lost count of how many times she had peered out of the living room window at the gravel drive leading to the house. When she was finally sure that there wasn’t going to be a sexy Irishman unexpectedly knocking on her door, she decided to chill. Rather than sitting on the porch with her wine tonight, she locked up the house and ran herself a bath.
Surprisingly, her mind settled on men. It had been twenty-two years since she had been single, and at least twenty since Randy had started policing where her eyes lingered. It had been a long damn time since she’d had a man make her feel... well—anything, other than revulsion. So, alone in her bathtub, she allowed her thoughts to go where they willed.
Like to the dimple in Ben’s left cheek when he had smiled at her that afternoon. Ben was cinnamon-spiced apple pie, with a generous serving of cream. Comforting, clean-cut. Wholesome.
If Ben was apple pie, then Randy was wilted bitter greens. Hard to swallow, and no matter how much you tolerated, it didn’t ever seem like there was less of it on your plate.
Declan was something else altogether. She replayed the way he’d swooped her up in his arms like she was as light as a dried leaf. She remembered the strength in his grip when he’d held her on the playground. He was full-bodied whiskey, with a hint of chili powder.
A deep exhale escaped her at the thought. She slid her hands over her abdomen, suds skimming down her legs as the candlelight cast enchanting shadows across the scene.
And then she was in the dark.
Rosie froze before realizing that the breeze must have snuffed out her candle. She sighed into the darkness, not wanting to break the spell she had been under and get out of the bath yet.
She explored her body like it was a city she’d once known well but had lost her way in recently. Strangely, her touch didn’t feel like her own touch. Her hands felt somehow larger and rougher, even though that was impossible. Her mind focused on a crooked smile, smoky jade green eyes, and a head of shaggy ginger hair that she longed to pull.
When her release came, she felt like she was coming alive again. All the tension of the past few years—leaving Randy, worrying for her daughter and herself—melted into a mellowness that she’d never known. She sighed again, but it was a lighter and more contented sound than before. Rosie ran her hands through the cooling water and then up over her face. The sensation was liberating, and she felt more like herself than she had for decades.