Cheyanne Young
Copyright © 2014 Cheyanne Young
All rights reserved.
First Edition September 1, 2014
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Typography from FontSquirrel.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected]
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Chapter 1
Sherry takes the barstool next to me at the diner, letting out a painful wince as she forces her arthritic limbs to climb onto the seat. It’s morning, a few days after my fake date with Tyler. I haven’t heard from him since that night, and I may or may not be hanging out at the diner a lot more than necessary just in case I happen to run into him.
“How’s the coffee this morning?” she asks me, nodding toward my almost empty cup.
“It’s good,” I tell her with a polite smile. This is the first time I’ve seen her outside of the inn, so she either hired a new employee to watch over things in her absence or there’s no guests currently staying in the Salt Gap Inn. I’d bet on the latter.
“I’m glad you were able to move into Tyler’s place. Do you think you’ll be staying in Salt Gap long?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her as I finish off my breakfast. “Miranda and I don’t really have a plan yet.”
“But you’re enjoying your time here?” she asks me. From anyone else, I’d consider this a nosy question, but coming from Sherry it just sounds like the woman is looking for validation that her beloved town is worth our time.
I nod. “Absolutely. I should look into getting a job though because I’m not enjoying unemployment as much as I thought I would.”
This puts an excited look on her weathered face. “I was hoping you’d say that.” She grabs my hand and squeezes it as her eyes light up. “The Halloween Festival is in a couple weeks and I could use another set of hands. To be honest, all my helpers are up in age and things would get set up so much faster if I had more young energetic people.”
She doesn’t exactly give me a choice, so I agree. After breakfast, I have a set of Sherry’s handwritten notes that take up both sides of three napkins from the diner. I decide to take them home and transfer my massive to-do list onto real paper before these get ruined. Or used as napkins. Miranda waves to me from across the diner as I slip out into the parking lot. She’s been so massively busy lately, I barely get to talk to her at work. Which is fine, because the girl doesn’t shut up at home.
My cell phone lights up from its place in my cup holder and I almost swerve off the road in my excitement to look at the screen. But there are no new messages. And no calls. It just lit up to warn me that my battery was getting low. My heart does this stupid heaving beat of disappointment. Tyler wasn’t trying to get a hold of me.
What kind of guy says he’s not going to stop trying and then stops trying?
Maybe I heard him incorrectly. Maybe that’s not what he said at all. Maybe all of this anticipatory heartache could have been prevented if I had only paid more attention to him that night, three days ago, when he was standing on my front porch.
Besides, I’m not even supposed to care about this. I’m not supposed to be crushing on anyone. This wasn’t in the plan. My heartbeat quickens as I turn onto the dead end street of my new home. An unmarked box van is backed into my driveway. I can’t imagine a burglar stupid enough to rob me in broad daylight, but I’m wishing I knew the phone number to the Salt Gap Police Department, if there even is such a thing. A mental image fills my mind: an elderly man dressed in uniform, sitting on a rocking chair in front of an old western-style jail cell.
The van isn’t actually parked in my driveway, a slightly comforting fact I realize as I slowly drive closer to my apartment. It’s parked in the forked part of the driveway, where it turns to the vacant apartment connected to mine.
Two portly men in sweat-drenched clothing carry boxes from inside the truck and load them onto the front porch, my front porch, but on the other side. Looks like Tyler has found a tenant for the other duplex. I didn’t even know he was looking for one. And who would it be? There were hardly any people in Salt Gap and they all seemed to have lived here forever. Did two other runaway women stumble upon the town’s bullet perforated street sign and decide to stay as well?
I park on my side of the driveway and sit in my car, pretending to stare at my phone so I can get a look at the new tenants. Hopefully they aren’t as bad as all the neighbors I had to share the elevator with back in Houston.
A woman walks out of the duplex’s front door, her blonde hair messy with bits of it sticking to the sweat on her face. She wipes a hand over her forehead, her face dull with exhaustion. She doesn’t look anywhere close to as adorable as she is at the diner.
“Where do you want these?” one of the men asks as he hauls a shelf with little curved slots for wine bottles on his shoulder.
Elizabeth thinks for a moment. “The kitchen, I guess.”
She waves at me as I step out of my car and I act as if I hadn’t spent the last few minutes eavesdropping on my new neighbor. She dances across the porch as I walk up to my door and grabs me in a hug, leaning across the small railing that separates her half of the porch from mine.
“I’m so excited that we’re going to be neighbors! Miranda is crazy excited too. It’ll be a girl’s only duplex!”
I smile, thinking of the redneck with an anger problem who broke Miranda’s nose on our first night in town. Didn’t he just propose to her? Isn’t Tyler all pissed off about that? I wonder how Elizabeth’s fiancé factors into her assessment of this being a girl’s only duplex. “That’s great,” I say with fake enthusiasm. “I had no idea you were moving in.” But obviously Miranda knew, I think. What the hell else does she know and keep from me?
Elizabeth leans in and speaks in a lower voice so her movers can’t overhear. “I didn’t know I was moving in either. Not until a few hours ago.” She tucks the stray bits of hair behind her ear and I notice that her eyelids are puffy. “My fiancé and I broke up.”
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, feeling the air whoosh out of my lungs. I’ve been in her place before. Engaged. And then not engaged. That guy was a complete asshat but she doesn’t need me to tell her that. I’m sure she knows. “You’re better off without him.”
She wipes away a tear moments before it falls down her face, the left over eyeliner smudging a bit. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
I resist the urge to laugh. “Because any guy would be stupid to end things with you.”
She smiles a little and then turns when a mover calls her name. “Yes, Daddy?”
“There’s no fridge inside,” he says. “Do you have money for a fridge?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll be fine for now.”
The man’s forehead wrinkles as he lumbers across the porch and back down the driveway. “You need a fridge. I’m getting you a fridge.”
When she turns back to me, I pretend I’m not annoyed by how pretty she is, even in baggy clothes and worn off makeup. Once again my brain tells me to hate hate hate, but I can’t. She’s just too nice to hate. She looks like she wants to say something but she hesitates so long it gets awkward. I hitch my pu
rse onto my shoulder and dig for my house key. “I was in the same situation once,” I say, not knowing why I’m being so honest about the past I like to forget about. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”
“Thank you, Robin.” Elizabeth wipes at her eyes again. She probably wants to give me another hug and hell, she probably needs one, but I just can’t. The image of a dark haired tan southern boy burns into the forefront of my mind, always there. Always annoyingly there. And I’m pretty sure he maybe likes Elizabeth as much as he maybe likes me. So I’m not going to hug her.
“You call me if you need anything,” I say as I unlock my door push it open. I guess being surrounded by Southern Hospitality has actually worn off on me. Because even though I just said a phrase that I would normally toss around just to be nice, I actually mean it this time.
I sink into the couch, a brand new black suede thing that smells like chemicals and new car smell. The cardboard foot covers are still on the bottom and a paper tag advertising Scotchgard and listing all the qualities of the couch still dangles from the arm rest. I’ve been meaning to cut it off, but the one pair of kitchen scissors I’d had at my old apartment has gone missing. The couch wasn’t my first choice because it’s big and plushy and suede and just too damn inviting. But the black color looks good on our rustic hearty pine flooring and Miranda wanted it, so I caved. Plus that furniture store’s employees were the first who didn’t laugh in my face when I asked for delivery all the way to Salt Gap.
The shuffling sounds of people moving boxes into Elizabeth’s apartment create a constant distraction from the television. What will happen to Elizabeth now that she’s single? Or will she even stay single? Will Tyler jump to asking her on fake dates now that she’s available? Ugh. I shake my head at the thought and wish I had a massive bucket of ice cream to dig into, eating until my sadness went away.
Who knows, maybe Tyler doesn’t like Elizabeth. Maybe Elizabeth will join me in my mission to live life without a boyfriend because she would have figured out the same thing I did—that boyfriends are just too hard to deal with and we’re better off alone. We could become grouchy old women together and live out our days sitting on our porches, telling warning tales of jilted women and mean cheating men to any young girl who would listen.
After exhausting all of the Big Bang Theory DVDs for the millionth time in the last few days, I drop to my knees in front of the television, next to our ever-growing stack of films and shows piled in a jagged stack against the wall. It isn’t quite time for lunch yet, but I guess I could head back to the diner…
Ugh, no! No, Robin! Stop making excuses to set up shop at the diner like some kind of homeless bum. I throw in a DVD of one of Miranda’s favorite movies and head to my room to change clothes. I slip into cropped yoga pants, a sports bra and a tank top. Then I grab some socks and shoes and complete the look of a girl who is about to work out. Because I’m totally going to work out, dammit.
I’ll sit in front of the television and crunch and push up and squat until I’m drenched in sweat. Until the endorphins have given me some level of self-respect again. Until I’m finally over the desire to run into Tyler and pretend it was an accident. He hasn’t even called.
An hour and several muscle cramps later, the moving van is gone and all the shuffling sounds have died down. I guess Elizabeth is unpacking by herself now. I lie on the living room floor, staring at my freshly-painted ceiling, relishing the endorphin rush of a good workout. Only, I’m not enjoying it. I’m pissed off that Tyler hasn’t called me yet. I know I shouldn’t get upset because Tyler has no obligation to text the girl who went on a fake date with him and confirmed that she had no interest in being his girlfriend. I know that not getting upset about it is the logical response. But nothing about me is logical.
Sometimes I can be a complete idiot. I grab Grandpa’s watch, pull it up from my elbow and twist it around to view the time. I had hoped that wearing this piece of my grandfather’s past would make his good qualities somehow rub off on me and make me a better person. But so far, all the watch has done is weigh down my arm and catch on things, reminding me that I suck at life.
Maybe I should call him. Or send him a text. That’s not needy or clingy. Just a simple, no nonsense text. I could say something about the Halloween festival and helping Sherry. I could ask if he wants to help, too. Just a friendly text. There’s no harm in that.
I climb into a standing position, using the couch to hold onto since my legs and abs are jelly from my stress induced workout. My cell phone rests on the bay window where it gets signal. I hear another truck pull into the neighboring driveway. Maybe they’re back to unload more stuff. The sounds of other cars in the driveway, other doors opening and closing next door, will take some getting used to since it’s been just Miranda and me for the last few weeks. And Marcus, I admit a little annoyingly. That boy visits her more than I visit the diner.
With a few deep breaths, my heartbeat slowly returns to normal after my workout. But then grabbing my phone and opening a new text to Tyler sends my pulse skyrocketing again. Maybe I don’t need to work out at all—maybe I can just pretend to call Tyler an hour a day. The adrenaline rush would get my heart pounding just as much as real exercise would. I type out something quick and casual and I absolutely don’t think twice about it. It’s just a friend texting a friend. I don’t need to think twice about it.
Laughter startles me enough to spin around on the kitchen floor, almost dropping my phone. Miranda is still at work so the laughter didn’t come from inside. A man’s voice sounds through the walls, and I hear Elizabeth’s front door slam closed and then the shrill squeal of excitement from the usually cheerful hostess. Curiosity gets to me and I sneak to the front window, peering out of it and hoping to God that I won’t find her shitty ex-boyfriend’s truck in her driveway. The last thing I need is to have to call the cops for a neighborly domestic dispute. I’m still not even sure if 9-1-1 works out here.
It isn’t her ex. But that doesn’t make my anxiety go away. It’s Tyler. Probably setting up some kind of landlord agreement with her or fixing something that wasn’t finished in the remodel. Something businesslike, I’m sure.
I hate that my palms go sweaty at the sight of his beat up Chevy.
I hate it even more that my first thoughts are to find some reason to go outside and casually run into him. Ugh. Why does this man bring out the most pathetic side of me?
My forehead presses against the windowsill as I lose myself in thoughts that drift from one uncomfortable subject to another one. Grandpa and his whirlwind romance with my grandmother and the fact that I should find that romantic and inspiring but I only find it sad and pathetic because it’ll never happen to me. Tyler and his gorgeous smile, sexy muscular arms and tanned skin. My ex-fiancé, the man I thought I’d spend my forever with, sleeping with my best friend behind my back. Love is complicated and love is hard. I do not need to care about Tyler.
I don’t need to go outside and pretend to look in my car for something on the small chance that he’ll see me and stop to chat. I am better than that. At least I can pretend to be better than that.
Elizabeth’s door opens and I jump, knocking my head into the window frame. My heart thumps in my chest as I watch them talking and once again, ridiculous thoughts of going outside to say hello fill my head. Instead of making a fool of myself, I anchor my feet to the floor and peek through the curtains, craning my neck to see down our shared porch.
Tyler runs a hand through his hair as Elizabeth tells him something. He shakes his head and gives her this pitying smile. He says something back to her and she laughs, playfully slapping him on the shoulder.
It feels so wrong to be peering into their personal lives, but I can’t freaking help myself. With one last gorgeous smile and some words of advice that make him lift his eyebrows really high, Tyler grabs Elizabeth around the waist and pulls her into a hug. My legs feel like jelly and all that water I drank during my workout rumbles around in my stomach. Elizabe
th leans into him, nuzzling her pretty head right into the crook of his neck as he whispers something into her ear.
I swallow and step away from the window.
Looks like Elizabeth has moved on from her ex.
Good thing I wasn’t into Tyler.
Chapter 2
Our living room is a used baby item utopia. I shove aside a car seat with two plastic bases that snap into the bottom of it. One is supposed to stay in the backseat of my car. Or Miranda’s car, if and when she gets one. I’m still thinking I should find a cheap reliable car for her and maybe surprise her with it. She’s already six months along, and in a few months she’ll be way too pregnant to walk to the diner for work every day.
Miranda sits cross-legged in the middle of the floor, surrounded by piles of baby clothing, crib sheets and burp cloths. Marcus dropped off several trash bags of this stuff a few hours ago and Miranda’s been acting like a child on Christmas morning unpacking and sorting it all.
At six months pregnant, Miranda’s thin frame is starting to look really adorable with that ever-growing baby bump. I’m overjoyed for her day off work this week. Finally I won’t be alone at home and stuck inside my own head all day. Plus Elizabeth is working so I don’t have to worry about running into Tyler on her front porch again. Speaking of, he still hasn’t called me. Not that I am even thinking about that anymore.
“Do you think we have enough friends here to throw a baby shower?” I ask as I tie the tiny shoelaces on a pair of booties that are so tiny they barely fit over my thumbs.
“I wouldn’t even have enough friends at home for that,” she replies with a sarcastic snort that makes me feel like she’s not as apathetic to the topic as she’s pretending to be.
I’m trying to stay busy here, because staying busy means not having time to think about men. I start work on the Halloween Festival tomorrow, but I’m sure there’s still plenty of free time in my days to plan a baby shower. Even if it was just me, Miranda, Sherry and Elizabeth, it could still be fun.
A Little Like Destiny (Robin & Tyler #3) Page 1