Baby, Don't Go

by Stephanie Bond

  But as much as he tried to keep worrisome thoughts at bay, Dale Richardson’s words crept in.

  Six months to meet the requirements of the federal grant to gain ownership of their town was daunting enough, but one month?

  It was hopeless.

  He hung there in the water, floating, for what seemed like hours, willing a solution to come to him. He felt closer to his father here, at the remote spot where Alton Armstrong had extracted the promise from his son to always keep the Armstrongs rooted in Sweetness.

  He felt like an utter failure. His chest ached…it was as if his father had died all over again. Their mother, who’d been planning to realize her dream of moving back to Sweetness Homecoming weekend, would be devastated.

  But he was all out of tricks.

  Finally Marcus conceded he was only putting off the inevitable. Richardson had to give his superiors an answer, and he owed it to the man not to leave him hanging. Instead of throwing good money after bad, they might as well cut their losses and pull out.

  He leaned his head back and dunked his face again, then swam to the shallows and stood to wade out of the restorative waters.

  Waters that would soon be under the control of outsiders.

  The word waters made him think of Alicia—a mistake. His chest tightened like a vise. The woman had tormented him since she’d arrived, but he’d been wrong to blame her for what he presumed would be a failed inspection. The fire, whatever its source, had been an accident. She had come the closest to being injured, a prospect that still made him nauseous. And as it turned out, the fire itself had no bearing on the future of the town. It was clear that Richardson had been planning to give them a pass on this interim inspection in light of the news the man had come to deliver.

  Marcus slung dripping water off his arms with more vehemence than necessary. He owed Alicia an apology. Unfortunately, saying “I’m sorry” had never been his strong suit.

  He lowered himself to sit on a wide rock to allow the sun to dry his skin before getting dressed, feeling miserable about pretty much everything. His fishing pole lay nearby, but he didn’t feel like fishing any more than the fish probably felt like being caught. To pass the time, he leaned down to choose a flat skipping rock, but stopped when he spotted an odd formation.

  At first he thought the craggy rock was sandstone, but something about the way the sun was hitting it seemed…different. There was a waxy sheen to the yellowish surface. He picked up the egg-size rock and hefted it in his hand—it was too dense for sandstone, and heavier than any rock of its size he’d ever held.

  Marcus’s breathing became shallow as the seed of a fantastic possibility took root. It couldn’t be…could it?

  Gold?

  His mind raced to recall any factoid he knew about gold, and its much-poorer cousin, pyrite, also known as fool’s gold. Believing folklore that the Georgia mountains were riddled with gold ore, he and his brothers had spent many a summer day panning for gold when they were younger, in the end having to settle for a nice piece of quartz, a fossilized rock, or if they were very lucky, a flint arrowhead.

  Gold, he remembered, didn’t change color when held up to a light source. He lifted the rock with shaking fingers and perused it at all angles before conceding it passed the color test.

  He also knew that despite its density and weight, gold was a relatively soft substance. He retrieved a pocketknife from his jeans and etched a tiny groove into the nugget. It was soft, all right. And the smooth surface was correctly pitted, like moon rocks he’d seen once at the Space Museum in Huntsville, Alabama.

  Adrenaline began to drip through his veins, but he refused to jump to conclusions. After all, he’d never heard of anyone actually finding gold in these mountains, his father had never passed down stories—

  Marcus stopped. His father… He’d said something on the day he’d made Marcus promise to keep the family in Sweetness. Alton Armstrong had said Sweetness was a golden place that molded people…a golden place. It had stuck in Marcus’s mind all these years because it was such an odd thing for his father to say—not the sentiment, but the wording.

  His heart began to pound in earnest as a revelation flooded him. It suddenly made sense—his father had known about the gold, perhaps had found nuggets himself over the years, and wanted his family to be here in the event of a boom.

  And, Marcus realized, to protect such a discovery. His head spun at the ramifications of word of a gold strike getting out—Sweetness would be overrun with speculators. The town as he and his brothers foresaw it would cease to exist as every inch of these mountains was mined and commercialized.

  Marcus looked up to the rim of soaring peaks that formed a bowl around Sweetness. They were stalwart soldiers, protecting their secrets. He pulled his hand down his face. The town’s land simply couldn’t fall into the hands of the government now. As hopeless as it seemed, meeting the accelerated deadline was no longer a longshot or a choice—it simply had to happen.

  Marcus looked back to the precious stone in his palm, and realized he literally held the future of Sweetness in his hands.

  24

  Alicia waved goodbye to the last of the volunteers and started to close the door to the diner when she realized that Clancey King lingered outside in the waning light, his good-natured face and formerly neat clothes smeared with grime and perspiration, like all the workers. Alicia realized she probably looked much the same.

  “I can’t thank you enough for all your help today,” Alicia said from the doorway. “I’m sure this wasn’t what you expected when you planned a peaceful day in the mountains.”

  “You’re right,” Clancey said, walking closer. “But I was glad to help. I was hoping for a minute of your time?”

  She hadn’t picked up a sexual vibe from him, so she doubted his interest was personal. “About?”

  He pointed to the cook-wanted sign in the window that had somehow survived the water and smoke. “Are you still looking for a cook?”

  Surprised, she nodded. “Are you interested?”

  “I am. I went to culinary school, and I’ve worked in restaurants most of my life.”

  She smiled. “I think you’re a tad overqualified to be a short-order cook.”

  “Maybe. But the camaraderie I saw here today embodies the type of community I want to live in, one where I can make a difference.” He smiled wide. “Is that what attracted you to Sweetness?”

  Alicia swallowed hard. “That’s right,” she lied.

  “Then you know what I mean.”

  She gave a brief nod. “Listen, Clancey, the diner does need a cook, but I’m not the person you need to talk to. To be truthful, I probably don’t have a job here myself after today, but I’ll pass along your information.”

  He pulled a card out of his wallet and handed it to her. “I’d appreciate it. I can start immediately.”

  She nodded. “Good to know.”

  “Just out of curiosity, do you know what the job pays?”

  “No, but generally, jobs in this town include some sort of living arrangement. The men live in a bunkhouse and the women and children live in the boardinghouse.”

  “Oh.” He scratched his head. “If the living and sleeping space is shared, you should probably know I’m gay.”

  She shrugged. “Okay.”

  He smiled. “It might be okay in the Northeast where you’re from, but I’m not so sure Sweetness, Georgia, is ready for me.”

  He had an unfortunate point. “I’m sure someone will be in touch.”

  “Great.” Although she could tell from the look in his eyes that he didn’t believe her. He extended his hand. “Regardless, it’s been a pleasure.”

  She shook his hand. “Likewise.”

  He crossed the street to where a shiny black motorcycle was parked. Clancey donned a helmet, climbed on, then started the big bike with a rumble. He lifted his hand in a wave, then he was off, heading back toward the interstate highway.

  Alicia turned when the door to the
diner opened behind her. Candace emerged, looking flushed and tired. Alicia’s heart went out to her. “Did you find your suitcase?” In all the commotion, her mother’s suitcase had gone missing from the diner.

  “No.” Worry lined her mother’s mouth.

  “It’s okay,” Alicia said. “Someone probably stuck it somewhere for safekeeping. Remember that everything in my closet is yours anyway.”

  Her mother attempted a smile. “I have another bag in the car, enough clothes to last awhile.”

  “Have you talked to Bo?”

  She nodded nervously. “I called him and told him I’m visiting you, so he doesn’t think anything is amiss. When I feel stronger, I’ll drive Bo’s truck home to get my things, and leave your rental car here for you.”

  Alicia made a mental note to perform the disgusting chore of removing the misplaced panties from the truck before her mother found them. “Mom, I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I might be leaving soon.” Like, tomorrow, if Marcus fired her and she couldn’t find a reason to stay in Sweetness.

  “Then I’ll leave when you do,” Candace said brightly. “And don’t worry. Today, when anyone asked, I just said I was your mother and that I was visiting. Is there a name I should use?”

  “Anything but Randall.”

  “Okay.”

  Alicia conceded she was drained from the day’s events, but the fact that she was asking her own mother to lie was a stark reminder of just how fraudulent her presence was in this town. Her previous assignments had been short-term, or in an environment where people hadn’t been as accepting of a stranger. She’d never before had the chance to insinuate herself into a community. It was starting to feel predatory.

  At her waist her cell phone rang—it was Nina. “Mom, I need to take this.”

  “Why don’t I get my toiletry bag out of the car?”

  “It wasn’t in your suitcase?”

  “No…luckily,” Candace said, then she headed in the direction of the graveled lot that served as community parking.

  Alicia walked back into the diner and connected the call. “Hi, Nina.”

  “I’ve been waiting all day for you to call!”

  “Sorry…it’s been a little hectic here.” She glanced around the diner which looked remarkably normal considering she’d almost burnt it down.

  “I guess I’ll read about it in your next blog entry—”

  “Nina, I’m leaving Sweetness.”

  “What? Did someone recognize you?”

  Alicia sighed. “No…but that’s another story. The thing is, I think I have enough information to write an exposé on what a woman can expect if she comes here looking for love.”

  “But you can’t leave now! What about Cindy and Kyle? Is he ever going to notice her? And is Parker ever going to propose to Vikki? And is Raquel going to tell Dr. Goodbody that she wants children? And how about you and Matthew?”

  Alicia frowned, trying to keep all the fictitious names straight. “What about us?”

  “Well, what happens now that you’ve done the deed?”

  Disconcerted, Alicia floundered for footing. “That’s not the point. I was only trying to get close to Marcus Armstrong to find out more about his philosophy on men’s and women’s roles in this manufactured town of his. You make my blog sound like some kind of soap opera.”

  “Human interest drama,” Nina corrected. “The way to get readers invested in the larger issue is through personal stories, you know that. And you’ve done a fantastic job of painting a picture of life in Sweetness. Everyone at the syndicate is riveted to see what happens next.”

  Panic licked at her—how could she tell Nina that she’d probably burned a bridge as far as her fake relationship with “Matthew” was concerned? And that once residents learned she’d single-handedly destroyed the town’s future, they would probably ride her out of town on a rail?

  The diner door opened. Expecting to see Candace, Alicia was surprised to see Marcus’s wide body spanning the door frame. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Time to face the firing squad.

  “I’ll call you back,” she said to Nina, then disconnected the call.

  Marcus walked in, looking all around the diner. He set a package wrapped in plain brown paper on a table, then walked into the kitchen area. When he returned, his expression was unreadable.

  Frustration ballooned in her chest—she was competent in so many areas, yet this man had only seen her at her most inept. Her skin tingled under his condemning gaze. She scooped a loose hank of hair behind her ear, knowing she must look a fright. Again, she was usually so well put together, yet he’d only seen her in casual clothes, soaking wet, in a towel, or disheveled.

  Oh, and naked.

  He continued to assess the state of the diner. She’d learned in business school that the first person to end a standoff put himself or herself in the weaker negotiating position, but his silence was unbearable.

  “Everyone pitched in,” she blurted.

  He nodded. “It looks better than I expected.”

  “We can open for business tomorrow. So maybe the Department of Energy representative would be willing to come back to do another inspection?”

  His expression hardened. “That won’t be happening.”

  Her stomach dropped. “Oh.”

  “Circumstances have changed. The D.O.E. rep came to tell us we have only a month to meet the requirements for the federal grant.”

  She gasped. “A month? Is that even possible?”

  “With Homecoming to get ready for, it’s going to be tough.” A muscle in his jaw worked. “But failing isn’t an option.”

  The man looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, but his conviction moved her. She could see why soldiers had followed this man into battle.

  “What can I do to help?” As soon as the words were out, she realized how ridiculous they sounded—he would probably tell her she’d “helped” enough already.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m going to be out of pocket for a while, so I need to know things are under control here at the diner.”

  “And you’re bringing Molly back to run it?” she prompted to save him the trouble of firing her.

  “No. I realize Molly feels territorial where the diner is concerned, but frankly, she’s more valuable to us coordinating the lost and found warehouse and liaising with former residents.” He expelled a long-suffering sigh. “So I guess I’m stuck with you.”

  Alicia felt relief for a split second, then consternation brought her up short. Stuck with her? She opened her mouth to deliver a sharp retort, then bit her tongue. After all, the important thing was that she’d have a chance to fulfill her assignment. So she forced a tight smile. “I guess you are.”

  He was standing at least ten feet away. The distance reminded her just how far apart they were ideologically. Still, the air between them crackled with sexual energy. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she labored to breathe. Visions of the previous night came back to her…she could almost feel his hands moving over her skin. As if he were reading her mind, he clenched his hands at his sides. She felt a pull on her body, like a string was stretched between them, and he was tugging on it.

  He straightened, snapping the tension. “I brought you something.” He picked up the package and extended it to her.

  She wondered if Marcus was even aware that he made people come to him. Even more disconcerting—the fact that they did it willingly. She stepped forward and took the package. “Is this something else to keep away the creepy-crawlies?”

  “Something like that.”

  She unwrapped the paper to reveal a silvery fabric item. When she unfolded it, she felt nonplussed to receive something so…domestic. “It’s an apron.”

  “A fireproof apron,” he said. “Call it my own little insurance policy.”

  Pleasure collided with resistance in her chest. The man had a way of making her feel taken care of and taken advantage of at the same time. She wasn’t sure what to make
of it, or how to respond. “Thank…you?”

  He looked pleased with himself. “You’re welcome.”

  Alicia swallowed a guffaw—the man was clueless.

  “I should let you close up,” he said, nodding to the entrance. “And I need to get to the office.”

  It was almost dark, but it sounded as if he was getting a jump on the massive workload ahead. His pent-up energy was palpable.

  “By the way,” he said, “there was a woman here earlier. She said she was your mother?”

  “That’s right. She lives in Atlanta and came up for a visit. I assume it’s okay if she stays with me for a few days?”

  His mouth quirked and she wondered if he was thinking there would be no more trysts as long as her mother was there. “She can stay with you as long as she likes,” he said, then strode toward the door, obviously intent on leaving.

  Alicia frowned. That was the answer she wanted, but for the wrong reason. “Boss?”

  He turned back, clearly irritated to be addressed as boss. “Yes?”

  “I found a cook.”

  “Then hire her.”

  “It’s a him.”

  “Then hire him. Get with Kendall and figure out a wage we can offer.”

  “Okay. Just one thing—he’s gay.”

  Marcus lifted his hands. “And?”

  “Is that going to be a problem with him living in the bunkhouse?

  “Not while I’m in charge.”

  He walked out the door. Through the window, Alicia watched him stride across the road, tall and strong and as determined as a bulldozer. The man was in charge, all right—no one who met him would ever doubt it. But for all of his conservative alpha-male bluster, he had some liberal views. Wonder flowered in her chest.

  The man had layers.

  And courage to spare. But she’d noticed the strain around his intense blue eyes, and the pull on his wide shoulders that hadn’t been there this morning. It made her worry that this time, for this project, Marcus Armstrong’s determination and courage might not be enough.