Wild Love

by Lauren Accardo

  The early-morning sun reflected off the store window, and she shielded her eyes against it. She suddenly remembered the woman with the curly gray hair. It was the same woman from Saturday, the one Jorie had convinced to buy the romance novel.

  “Oh, hello!” the woman said. “I’ve been so enjoying the book your friend recommended that I wanted to pick up a copy for my sister before I leave town. Do you have another?”

  Sydney slipped the key into the lock on the front door and grinned. “I sure do. Please come in; I’ll grab it for you right away.”

  The two women purchased another copy of the romance novel plus balsam-, cedar-, and pine-scented candles. When Sydney completed the sale and wished them safe travels, they promised they’d stop back in on their next trip. A surge of hope rose up in her chest for the first time all week. And the seedling of an idea she’d had the day before developed a tiny green sprout.

  During downtime at the shop, Sydney dragged Karen’s ledgers and notebooks to the cash register out front and tried to make sense of all her outstanding payments.

  A flare of determination surged inside her chest as she pored over the books. As North Country headed into the cold weather season, the tourists would eventually taper off, but what about the locals? An entire town lived, worked, and thrived in Pine Ridge twelve months a year. There had to be something she could do to pull her mother out of debt and make the store grow.

  Around noon, just as her stomach began to growl and she swore she could almost smell Utz’s chili cheeseburgers, the front door opened. A wave of adrenaline rolled through her, prickling across the skin at her shins and traveling up across her face. Sam.

  Did the man have a literal sparkle in his eyes? She blinked away the dream sequence playing in her mind.

  “Don’t you work?” She immediately regretted her biting tone.

  “I work all the time. Sometimes I start at five in the morning and even allow myself an hour off for lunch.”

  He approached the cash register, and her eyes lingered on the hint of dark brown chest hair peeking out from the undone buttons of his Henley shirt. He wore a dark green army jacket, but even layered up for the cold, the suggestion of what might be hidden underneath made her legs tingle.

  “Decadent.” Her voice tripped over the word, mimicking something that might come out of a baby goat.

  He cracked a smile but didn’t call her on it.

  “So, what can I do for you?”

  “I told you if you were still here Tuesday I had somewhere to take you.”

  “You did.” He remembered.

  “Can you take a lunch break?”

  She checked the clock. She’d been in the shop for only a few hours and felt guilty closing up again to go out to eat. He noticed her eyes on the wall clock and shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or we could go pick it up and bring it back here.”

  “Yeah.” She blinked, her brow pinching. Such a simple, accommodating statement that Connor wouldn’t have made in a million years. “That would be perfect, actually.”

  His gaze lingered on her for a moment, and his tongue escaped his mouth to trace his lower lip. He’d done it more than once in her presence. Was he nervous? Excited? Did he want her naked in his bed?

  The air in the shop grew thick with tension, and she dragged her mind out of the gutter.

  They climbed into his pickup truck, and as he pulled onto the main road, she opened her window wide and let the cool autumn air blow through her loose hair. The wind whipped at her face and tugged her hair in every direction. She imagined herself catching the right gust of wind and disappearing over the treetops.

  After a few minutes she sat back in the passenger seat and closed her window enough to quiet the roar of air through the cab.

  “My old dog liked to do that,” he said.

  “I have a lot in common with old dogs.”

  They shared a smile. Maybe they could finally drop the cutting remarks and settle into a friendship.

  He pulled into the parking lot of a squat white house with a sign over the entrance that read TREE TORN FRESH. A patio out front offered seating for warmer days, and through the front window shone a row of gleaming silver coffee machines.

  “This is cute,” she said as they climbed out of the truck.

  “It’s good, too. I know we came out here to eat something healthy, but their cookies are out of this world.” He ran a hand over his stomach. How hard did the man have to work out to maintain flat abs on a steady diet of nachos and cookies?

  They stepped inside the bustling café, heavy with the scent of brewing coffee and freshly peeled oranges, and Sydney scanned the wall-mounted menu, deciding almost immediately on a salad with pomegranate and goat cheese. Her broken heart still craved piles of greasy fries and melting cheese, but Sam had brought her all the way here. Ordering a salad was the adult choice.

  As she scanned the café and waited for the couple ahead of them to place their order, she felt Sam’s eyes. His pointed gaze was on her throat.

  “Did you used to wear a necklace or something?” he asked.

  Her shoulders tensed up, and her hand fell from where she’d been tracing her neck.

  “What? How could you know that?” She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down hard.

  His eyes narrowed, and he pawed at his own throat. “You do that a lot.”

  “So? It’s a nervous habit. Everyone has them.”

  His chin raised and lowered, but the skepticism on his face remained.

  He seemed to be quiet when he wanted to be. He wasn’t the type of person who needed to fill the silence. In this moment, he gave her nothing but his intense stare and a simple shrug.

  They ordered lunch, and she paid, refusing to accept the twenty-dollar bill he thrust at her. As the cashier handed back her credit card, Sam took a step closer to Sydney and in one swift move tucked the twenty into the back pocket of her jeans. His thigh pressed against her hip, and his fingers grazed the top of her butt, sending her nerves vibrating through space. Her entire body turned to fluff.

  He pulled away, leaving the faint scent of pine and spicy cologne in his wake. His body wasn’t next to hers anymore, but his presence remained. In a low, rumbling voice he said, “Don’t you dare give that back to me.”

  With all the muscle control she had left, she pulled the bill from her pocket and, with shaking fingers, tucked it into the tip jar. Every one of his subtle moves worked itself under her skin, creating a pattern like an intricate tattoo. It stung. But she liked it.

  When they headed back toward town, the truck ambling over rocky dirt roads, she peeked into the brown paper bag to check their order and noticed two chocolate chip cookies.

  “Did you get cookies?” she asked.

  His eyes lit up. “Yes. Pull one out now. They’re best when they’re still warm.”

  She pulled a wrapped cookie out of the bag, broke it in half, and handed a piece to him. He popped the cookie into his mouth and grinned at her as he chewed.

  “Good, huh?”

  She laughed.

  He had melted chocolate on his lip.

  “You’re a messy eater.”

  “I know. Since I was a kid.” He lifted a thumb to his lip and wiped at the chocolate smear. “That place is actually open during the winter months, too, in case you need another break from chili cheese.”

  She sucked in a breath. Would she be here through the winter?

  “I’m sorry. I guess I—” He cleared his throat. “Well, you’re still here, so I thought maybe it was for a while. But maybe it’s not?”

  Her heart beat faster, and she dropped her gaze to the mud-crusted mat beneath her sneakers. “I’m not sure yet.”

  “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  She looked back at him to find he’d settled into his familiar driving position, pluc
king his bottom lip and staring out over the road. His easy posture, his ability to back off when something clearly bothered her, his intense but caring stare. Something about him made her feel safe.

  “No, you don’t have to be sorry. I’m in between things right now. In between jobs, in between apartments, in between . . . lives.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “But while I’m aimlessly floating, I’d like to try to help my mom’s store. She’s on the verge of bankruptcy, to be perfectly frank.”

  “Wow, I didn’t realize.” His voice softened. “This town can be tough.”

  “But,” Sydney weighed her words carefully, “it seems like maybe if people were slowly introduced to something new at the shop, they might embrace it. Sort of a fresh take on a classic. Would you agree?”

  He raised a single eyebrow and looked at her. “I feel like you’re looking for something specific here.”

  She filled him in on a rough outline of her plan for the store, careful not to seem overly excited. If this didn’t work, her mom would have to close up shop and find a more practical way to pay back her debts. And Sydney would have another failure under her belt, this time taking her mom down with her.

  She waited, holding her breath, as he nodded. Finally, he said, “So that means you’ll be in town for at least a few more months?”

  His deep brown eyes were nearly black, and they squeezed her heart like a vise. What was his deal? Jorie said he had somebody, whatever that meant, but he was putting out strangely intense vibes toward her.

  Maybe he was a cheater who did unspeakable things behind his girlfriend’s back while he thought she was out for the afternoon.

  She swallowed down her own heartache and shoved visions of Connor and the blonde out of her brain. Sam didn’t seem the smarmy type. He’d driven her home after way too many cocktails and didn’t give in to her advances at all.

  “If my mom agrees to let me take over her store and put the plan in place, then yes. A few months.”

  He pressed his lips together and nodded as his penetrating gaze returned to the road ahead. “A bunch of us are going kayaking this weekend. Jorie, Matt, Greg, me. You should come. If you want. Since you’ll probably still be in town, I mean.”

  She licked her lips to keep from grinning, but the way he fidgeted elicited a spark of joy in her chest. The invitation was casual, easy, unassuming, but his twitching hands gave him away.

  “That would be nice. Thanks. I’ll be here.”

  “So, why aren’t you rushing back to New York? Thought you had a boyfriend or something?”

  The tension in the car thickened, and she shifted the paper sack in her lap. Did he care that she had a boyfriend? Was that why he wouldn’t kiss her at Taylor’s?

  “No boyfriend.” She turned back toward the passenger window and stared out at the green landscape rushing by. Images of Connor popped into her brain, accompanied by memories of candlelit dinners in the West Village and cocktails prepared by mixologists at swanky rooftop bars. Once upon a time she’d felt safe there, accompanied by a man she thought would take care of things, financially and beyond.

  What was he doing now? Was he at work? Out with the blonde? Maybe the other woman had already moved into the apartment Sydney had once shared with Connor and put her expensive blouses into dresser drawers and stacked the medicine cabinets with La Mer and Chanel.

  Sydney swallowed down the memories, the worries, the conjured images. It was behind her now. It had to be.

  “I’m single,” she said. “And it’s good. It’s just me.”

  chapter nine

  The autumn sun hung low in the sky as the caravan of kayaks made its way to the pullout point in front of Sam’s cabin. They’d been careening down the Black River for hours, and despite their winter coats, everyone was beginning to complain of frozen hands and faces. Sam didn’t mind the cold. He could’ve stayed out here for days.

  They navigated the gently rolling river and made the necessary turns to end up in Fern Lake. Jorie, Matt, Greg, and Sam had taken this trip hundreds of times since they were kids. This time, though, Sam saw it with new eyes as he pointed out old familiar spots to Sydney.

  She’d arrived at the drop-in point that morning without makeup or pretense and hadn’t complained a bit as she dragged her borrowed, unwieldy kayak into the river. She’d delighted in every hawk Sam pointed to, every jumping fish, every noteworthy bend in the river. And now, as their trip came to an end, she laughed up ahead with Jorie, and he felt lighter than he had in a long time.

  Matt was first in line to pull his kayak onto the lake’s grassy edge, and despite his large frame, he leaped out of the kayak like a fox before assisting Jorie with hers.

  “How do I do this?” Sydney called out, raising her paddle above her head. Her shoulders tensed up, and Sam watched helplessly as she wobbled toward land before teetering back and forth.

  “Quit jerking yourself around!” Matt said. He reached for the end of her kayak to pull her in but caught it at the wrong angle. Sydney lifted herself up to hop out but instead launched her body up and, with an animal yelp, crashed into the water.

  “Jesus Christ,” Sam said, unable to keep the smile from his face. He’d never seen such an uncoordinated dismount. Like a baby deer trying out its spindly legs for the first time.

  He paddled quickly toward the bank, leaving Greg to his own devices, and sprung onto the grass before Sydney had even come up for air.

  “Holy shit!” she screamed as she finally bobbed up to the surface, her hair plastered to her face and her mouth sucking air like a trout. “Damn it, it’s cold!”

  The group howled with laughter as Sam got as close to the edge as possible without climbing in after her and reached a hand out to reel her in. Her freezing hand gripped his with surprising force, and he had no trouble yanking her body to solid ground.

  She collapsed at his feet, and he knelt down to make sure she was all right.

  “Please don’t judge me,” she said, wiping at her eyes.

  “Jesus, don’t cry.”

  She looked up at him suddenly, beads of river water clinging to her spidery eyelashes, and he realized her body trembled with laughter, not sadness. She clutched her stomach, barely able to get the words out. “Cry? God, I’m not that much of a princess.”

  The guys dragged the kayaks up to the house, and they all pushed inside, grateful for the warmth of the indoors. “Get me a beer,” Greg bellowed. “Man, am I gonna be sore tomorrow.”

  Each of them peeled off coats and rubbed their hands together, anxious to regain feeling in their extremities.

  “Come on,” Sam said.

  Sydney dripped water from her hair, coat, pants, and shoes into a massive puddle at his front door, looking like a helpless kid drowning in her dad’s oversize ski jacket. “I’ll get your floor all wet.”

  “It’s just water.” He waved her inside, and she followed him through the living room, down a short hallway, and into his bedroom.

  After he’d retrieved his smallest pair of sweatpants and a soft, clean white T-shirt, he stood up from the dresser and turned to face her. She was hunched over his nightstand, reading the spines of his books.

  “Snooping, huh?”

  As she jerked upright, her soaked clothes squished, and with soggy sneakers, she trudged back to the bedroom door. “No. I mean, yes. I just wondered what you were reading.”

  He realized, suddenly, that they were together in his bedroom.

  He hadn’t had a woman in this room for years, couldn’t summon the energy and balance it took to maintain a relationship plus his place in Liv and Jay’s world. No matter how much or how little the woman asked of him, dating just didn’t make sense within the walls of this life he’d created for himself. Liv demanded all of him, whether she was drunk or sober, his girlfriend or not.

  In the rainstorm that was Olivia, the single moment of s
unlight through the clouds was how she had treated his mother. Liv had washed his mother’s hair, secured extra blankets, snuck Sam in after visiting hours were over. When her duties as a nurse ended, her loyalties as a friend and former lover kicked in.

  He’d never forgotten it, but it couldn’t erase the rest of the shitstorm she’d created in his life. He swung back and forth with her. Forgiveness. Blame. Forgiveness. Blame. Love and sex were no longer on the table, though. They’d both agreed to that.

  And now, after many solitary nights in this bedroom, Sydney was here. The low lamplight illuminated her high cheekbones and gave her skin an otherworldly glow. Even with wet hair and frumpy clothes, she was striking.

  “I’m stuck in a bad mystery rut,” he said finally, stringing together a coherent sentence that didn’t have to do with love or sex or his past or her beauty. “Don’t judge me by what’s on that table.”

  “I get it. That happens to me, too. Suddenly it’s been six months and all I’ve read are Jack Reacher novels. But hey, if you want something new and exciting, why don’t you come into the Loving Page? We have a wide array of scintillating titles.” She flashed him a cheesy smile and winked.

  “Trust me, I’ve been in the Loving Page. Your mom caters more to the over-sixty amateur-hiking crowd. Who knows, maybe if she had more of those scintillating titles, she might sell more books.” He tossed the clean clothes on the bed and headed for the door. “Here’s some dry stuff. Try to stay out of my underwear drawer, all right?”

  Her lips curved into a smile, and a blush creeped down from her cheeks to her neck. Now that he definitely knew she was single, he’d have to be extra careful around her.

  After a few minutes, Sydney rejoined the group in the living room. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and she glanced around with wide, uncertain eyes. The sight of her wearing his clothes made his stomach contract.

  “Darlin’, you look good,” Greg said. He smacked his lips together as if staring at a plate of ribs, and Sam had half a mind to force Greg outside and shove his ruddy face in the snow for a nice cooldown.