Wild Love
Page 11
“Well, I hope to never be there again.” She hugged her arms around herself, begging the nausea to subside. A heavy weight pressed on her temples and blurred her vision. “Is it . . . morning?”
“Nah,” he said. “It’s around eleven. Looks like the water and nap did you good.”
A long breath escaped her pursed lips, and tears threatened once more. What danger had she put herself in? How many other men in this town would’ve been so kind?
“I should go,” she said. “I don’t want my mom to worry.”
“Your mom’s the best.” A warm, affectionate glow lit his face from within. “Last year I had a pretty bad breakup, and your mom let me stay with her for a few days while my ex cleared her stuff out of here. She made me breakfast every morning.”
The bile threatened again, and this time it had nothing to do with alcohol. It seemed the one person in her life who could’ve grounded her, reminded her that life was more than this season’s “it bag” or who was up for what promotion at which firm, was the one person she’d pushed away. Everyone in Pine Ridge seemed to have fond memories of Karen. All Sydney had was regret.
“Would you mind driving me back to my mom’s? I’m sorry to have to ask you for another favor, but . . .”
“Of course. I’m happy to.”
As Jared’s Camry hugged the curves of the mountain roads and sailed through the empty late-night streets of downtown, pressure settled onto Sydney’s shoulders, threatening to crush her. She was adrift and struggling against the powerful forces yanking her in all directions. She had no power of her own. No control. It had been so long since she felt in charge of her life. Even the power she felt with Connor was simply the illusion of control. He’d held all the strings.
They entered an area of strong cell service, and her phone buzzed with a message. She checked the screen and choked. Connor.
I miss you.
“Shit.” The curse slipped out of her mouth, and she raised a trembling hand to her lips as if she could shove it back in.
“Everything all right?” Jared asked.
“Fine,” Sydney muttered. “Can you actually drop me at my mom’s store? I need to get a few things done.”
“You sure? This weather is pretty bad. You don’t want to get snowed in.”
“Yeah, I’ll be all right. Worst-case scenario, I sleep in the office.”
“Worst-case scenario, call me and I’ll drive you home.”
Jared pulled up to the curb outside the Loving Page, and with one hand on the door, she turned to him. What was it about this town? No one owed her anything. For all they knew, she was a drifter and would soon be gone. Yet at every turn, a Pine Ridge local stood by to lend her a hand. She didn’t know what to do with that kind of generosity.
“Thank you.” She blinked back tears. “You’ve been more than nice to me, and I don’t deserve it.”
A sarcastic laugh traveled past his lips, and he shook his head before looking at her. “Everyone deserves kindness. And around here, we help each other out. You gotta stop fighting the cheesy-Hallmark-movie town that is Pine Ridge, Syd.”
A snort escaped her nose, and she pressed her fingers against her eyes, delighting briefly in the absurdity of the evening. She grabbed her purse from the floor of the car and sent him one last tight-lipped smile.
“Thank you again. I owe you one.”
The snow pelted her in the face as she ran toward the front door and let herself in. The shop was chilly but still a welcome respite from the biting temperatures she’d just escaped. She paused a moment, taking in the new decor, the coziness she’d worked hard to infuse into the shop. She begged the universe to make this work.
She shook the snow off her coat and hung it on the hook near the door to the back office. Despite her better financial judgment, she switched on the office space heater and settled into the rickety desk chair, furiously rubbing her hands together for warmth.
The space heater warmed the little office in no time, and its comforting buzz plus the glow from the standing lamp filled the otherwise eerily silent space. Sydney rested her forehead on the cool wood surface of the desk and took a deep breath. Something had to change. If she continued down this path, she’d end up pregnant or with a DUI or worse.
She turned the electric kettle on and filled a foam cup with instant coffee. “Step one,” she said. “Get your shit together, you disgusting lush.”
Her laptop sat open on the desk where she’d left it earlier, and she ran her finger over the trackpad to bring it back to life. When she was fresh out of law school and just starting out in her first real job, she’d buried herself in work. She was the first one in the office at seven in the morning and the last one to leave at ten at night.
After a couple of years, when most of her friends had given up on inviting her to happy hours and weekends upstate, she realized her obsession with work was an excuse to avoid emotional relationships. Karen Walsh had been shackled by love. Sydney Walsh would never let emotions get in the way of her independence.
Dating Connor was a compromise: a social life without sacrificing her career. She could never have anticipated the panic attack that preceded forfeiting everything she’d worked for. At the time, financial stability seemed to be first priority, and Connor provided that in spades.
But sitting in front of her laptop, the remnants of a terrible night still heavy in her gut, she wondered if what she needed now was work. All-consuming, intensive, fingers-to-the-bone work. Her mother depended on her. And if she could manage to save the store, maybe she could manage to save herself.
She typed furiously, adding every thought coursing through her brain to the document titled the Loving Book Club. Building a website, gaining followers on social media, promotions, giveaways, fliers in local shops, connecting with authors. Any whisper of an idea that entered her brain went into the computer.
As she put the finishing touches on an email to a book publicist in New York, securing the Loving Page’s first official author signing for the day after Thanksgiving, a subtle knock broke through her concentration. She sat up in the desk chair, struggling to hear past the low hum of the space heater, and a moment later the knock came again. Louder this time.
The chair creaked as she stood. She peeked her head around the doorframe to see out the shop door, where Sam Kirkland was standing inside a veritable snow globe. She hurried toward the door and flicked the lock to let him inside.
“What are you doing here?” she said as he stamped the snow off his boots.
“Do you have the newest release in the Lusty Lads of London series? I can’t sleep until I find out if Gerald’s member really is as big as all the other girls say.”
A grin spread across his face, and her stomach twisted in response. His cheeks were bright red from the bitterly cold wind blowing outside.
“Hmm, Gerald of the Lusty Lads. I think we’re fresh out of stock on that one.”
“Foiled again.” He raised a gloved fist at the sky, and when his gaze returned to her, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. She wanted to lean in and lick that tongue.
“What are you really doing here?” she asked. The chill in the front of the store creeped past her T-shirt, and she hugged her arms to her chest.
“I had to drive out to Blue Mountain Lake to jump an old lady’s Buick, and I was just on my way back home when I saw the light on in here.” It still didn’t explain why he’d stopped and knocked. But she wasn’t sure she cared.
“Jumping an old lady’s Buick, huh? Outside of Appalachia, I think you can be arrested for that.”
His eyes narrowed behind long, black lashes. Maybe he’d forgiven her for earlier.
“Don’t tell anybody, all right? It’s a fetish, and I’m getting help for it.”
“Admitting you have a problem is the first step.” Her teeth chattered, and he frowned at her.
“I was in the office; the space heater’s on back there. It’s almost hot.”
“Well, then, what are we doing standing here?”
He sailed past her on a breeze of cold, pine-scented air, and she followed, eager to be back inside the warm, toasty confines of the office.
When she moved past the doorframe, she found him sitting in her desk chair, staring intently at the computer screen. Only a foot of space sat between the door and the chair, and she hovered there, reticent to stand on the other side of him, where she’d have to be nearly pressed against his arm. But the heater was on the other side, and here, close to the door, she was still all chattering teeth and goose bumps.
“You took my seat,” she said. He looked up, the creases of concentration still pressed into his brow.
“I was reading your game plan.” He rose, peeled off his coat, and stood in the eight-inch heated space on the other side of the chair. She sat down, her heart pounding, and tried to forget that his belt buckle and all it contained were a mere head turn away.
“It’s not really a game plan.” She kept her eyes if not her focus on the computer screen. “It’s just some stuff I was thinking about.”
“Well, I think it sounds great. Especially the part about promoting on local radio. A lot of people around here listen to the radio, so it’s a more effective promotional tool than in some other parts of the country.”
Slowly, she turned her head and looked up at him. He’d removed his coat but still wore his wool ski cap, and the ends of his thick dark hair curled out around his ears. A single bead of sweat trailed down her lower back. Was it him or the space heater?
“You think?” she choked out. She pushed her chair another inch toward the door, and the frigid shop air nipped at her, bringing a bit of clarity to her otherwise cloudy brain.
“For sure. I know all the guys at North Country Public Radio if you want me to put in some calls for you.”
“That would be amazing.”
“And I see you’ve been working on Karen’s social media stuff, too,” he said. “That’s smart. Coming at it from all angles.”
Sydney turned back to her computer and clicked on the tab where a Facebook event page mocked her. Why was it so difficult to get someone on the phone at these social media companies? She’d cleaned up the Loving Page’s Facebook page, opened a new event, and now the stupid thing wouldn’t let her invite people.
“I’m trying. I pulled up this event page today. . . .”
All the air rushed out of her lungs in one gust as he leaned over her shoulder from behind, his mouth mere inches from her ear. He leaned one arm on the desk and the other on the back of her chair, and she froze. His warm breath breezed against her neck, and she clenched every muscle in a feeble attempt at not falling apart.
“Ah, look.” He raised a finger to the screen. “You have to create the event first, put in all your info, and then you can invite people.”
The words floated around her head, unable to compete for brain space with the close proximity of his warm body. Every inch of her buzzed, like she’d come too close to an electric fence.
“Oh.” It was the only word she could muster. He stood up straight, leaving her slightly shook.
“Your Instagram stuff is pretty good, too,” he said. “Beefy dudes and dogs? Can’t go wrong with that.”
“Don’t forget beefy dudes holding dogs. Those are some of my most popular posts.”
For a moment, she forgot they were discussing the store. What had happened in the five hours since she’d seen him? He’d stormed out of the bar, and now he was here, sharing this tiny space with her and praising her ideas.
“I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier,” he said.
“Oh.” She blinked. Had she said any of that out loud? “I . . .”
“I’m not really known for my optimism, but it pissed me off to see you so down on yourself about this place. Your ideas are really smart, and I think the whole plan could work. You just have to give yourself a shot at it.”
Pressure built in her sinuses, and suddenly the tears were there, threatening at the corners of her eyes. Before she could tell him how much that meant to her, how grateful she was to have someone believe in her, he opened his mouth again.
“Plus,” he said, “you seem to drink a lot when you’re going through something. It’s a little scary.”
“What do you know?” she snapped. It was one thing to admonish herself over the drinking. It was quite another for this near stranger to scold her. Even if he was terrifyingly close to the truth.
“What do I know?” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “I watched my dad die of liver cancer after trying to drink his own problems away, so I come from a place of experience, all right?”
The air stilled. He was so cavalier, the statement almost flowed right through her without resonating. He ran his hands over his face and leaned back against the wall, waiting for her response.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “How long ago?”
“He died when I was fourteen. But he was a heavy drinker his whole life. My whole life. He was a lot older than my mom and never really wanted kids, so when she had me, I guess it was the push he needed to go from casual drunk to full-blown alcoholic.
“He wasn’t abusive or anything, which is usually where people’s minds go, but when he finally died, we were all a little relieved. My mom basically got to start her life over. He was a real weight on her. Every time he left the house, she’d wait up for him, looking out the window, worried he’d plowed into a tree or something. The night he died, she slept for eighteen hours.”
She nodded slowly. He spoke, face neutral, as if discussing a movie he’d just seen. “Well, wow. That’s nuts.”
He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. “He’s not the first unhappy man to drink himself to death, and he won’t be the last.”
“Is your mom remarried now?”
A dark cloud rolled over his face, and his jaw twitched before he said, “Mom died last year. Last December.”
“Damn,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.” He ran his hands over his face again and huffed out a short breath. “Sorry, man, that took a really depressing turn.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“All that was to say I have experience with people who drink a lot. I can tell you on good authority, it doesn’t make anything better. In fact, it makes most things worse.”
Of course it did. She knew that. Had she made things worse for him? She swallowed down her own insecurity and forced some reassurance into her voice.
“I know,” she said. “I agree. Definitely doesn’t make me feel any better, that’s for sure. I think I’m gonna take it easy for a while.”
She watched for his response. He nodded.
“Good.”
The silence creeped around them like bugs, and Sydney chewed on her lip, desperate for something to talk about. But he didn’t seem fazed at all. His eyes never left her.
“How’s your mom doing? Is she embracing the changes?”
“No,” she said. “The difficult part is that I can’t tell if she’s skeptical about the actual idea or if she just doesn’t like her daughter coming in and running the show. She’s been in the shop every day since I started the renovations, looking in every corner and examining every new piece. It’s exhausting. It’s a wonder she has time to engage in other activities.”
As she remembered Yuri and her mother on the couch, she nearly gagged.
“Activities?” he asked.
“Do you know Yuri? Who owns the liquor shop next door?”
“Yeah. Your mom’s boyfriend.”
Sydney tilted her head to the side.
“You knew that?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Everybody knows that. I mean, neither of them has ever admitted it out loud, but this is a small town. Once they were spotted together at the bowling alley wearing matching shirts, it was all over.”
The bile rose in Sydney’s throat. How long would it take before everyone in town knew Jared had to carry her out of Utz’s? Hank the bartender was the only one who’d seen them leave together, but surely Jared had neighbors. Maybe the snow had blocked the view? She could only hope.
“Well, yeah,” she said. “So I caught them . . . you know . . . on the couch.”
“Banging?”
“Ugh,” she said, covering her mouth with her hands. “You can joke, but I have the visual. It’s burned into my brain like I stared at the sun.”
“That’s cruel.” He laughed and ran his knuckles over his bearded jaw. “Yuri’s not the most attractive man, but your mom still looks all right.”
“She’s my mother. It’s just not right. I prefer to believe I was delivered by the stork.” His eyes sparkled in the dim glow of the standing lamp as he watched her with amusement.
“Your mom knows you sleep there and she still did it on the couch?” He laughed again. “Damn, Karen Walsh. Didn’t know she had it in her. Kinky.”
“I might throw up.” Her voice was muffled as it carried through her fingers. “Anyway, as you can imagine, I’m not really comfortable staying with her anymore. She should have her privacy. And I should have my . . . sight.”
“Jorie’s got that extra room. I’m sure she’d let you crash with her for a while until you find a more permanent spot. Plus, she’s at Matt’s a lot. And since you sold your car, if you need a ride, I have a junker that’s seen better days, but she’ll get you through the snow better than that bike will.”
“Sam,” she said softly. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, sure. You need a ride, I’ve got one.”
“How much?”
“You’d be doing me a favor by taking it. It’s occupying valuable real estate in my shop.”
She tilted her head. “Stop. Let me give you a couple hundred bucks.”