Wild Love

by Lauren Accardo

  “Holy hell,” she muttered, taking a step back. She raised a hand to her brow, sure she’d have a lump from where his chin collided with her head.

  “Sorry, I thought you heard me behind you.”

  The bedroom was dark save for the green glow of her bedside alarm clock and the pale moonlight floating in through the window. In the shadows, his sharp cheekbones stood out in stark contrast to his soft, dark beard. He stood a mere six inches away, and in the small space, she smelled the clean pine and faint detergent scent on his clothes, like clean sheets on the forest floor.

  “Sam.” She wasn’t sure if she said it in protest or pleading or both at once.

  “I’m here to get my book,” he whispered back. “That’s all I came for.”

  She took a step closer, daring him to meet her. They’d been here before but under very different circumstances. She was new to town and very drunk and smitten with his rugged good looks and powerful attitude. Now they were friends, closer in ways than she’d been with anyone in her life.

  They rocked toward each other until his breath warmed her cheek. His fingers grazed hers, and then he tucked his hand into her smaller one. It was the sweetness that broke her resolve.

  He tilted his head and placed his perfectly curved, rosy lips onto hers. She kissed him back, as gently as she knew the moment called for. The sparkling thing they’d been trading all night cascaded from his lips onto hers and straight down into her chest and spine. Everything about being with him was easy. This was no exception. His mouth caressed hers, and his hand lifted to find its rightful place, buried in her dark hair. When she pulled away, his hand remained.

  “Damn it.” She squeezed her eyes shut. All the reasons they shouldn’t be kissing crashed over her at once. “This is dumb. I’m sorry.”

  “So dumb,” he agreed, taking a step back. His hand fell from her hair, and she immediately missed the sensation. His words said Mistake, but his face said Really?

  “This is the tiniest town. You have Liv. It’s all . . . This is just not a good idea.” Her head was weightless, as if she’d just swallowed mouthfuls of pure oxygen.

  “I know,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t even think of you like that.”

  She stared at him, her eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. What was that supposed to mean? Shame crept up her legs and landed like a brick in her stomach.

  “Yeah, me neither,” she choked out. But the sparkling thing still hovered between them. His eyelids remained heavy, the connection still alive. She knew they were both lying. Or at least she hoped.

  “We’re friends.” The finality in his voice felt forced.

  “Friends.” She licked her lips, desperate for the lingering taste of him. She’d never felt so awkward and inexperienced in front of a man. Typically, she’d flaunt her assets, flirt, put on a show she knew would result in a naked finale. In front of Sam, she was a gangly teenager.

  “I should go.” But he stood rooted in place, massaging his hands together. His eyes dropped, momentarily, to her chest, and she immediately crossed her arms. He raised a single eyebrow.

  “All right, well, get out already,” she said, lightening her tone. “I’ve missed the last twenty minutes of The Real Housewives of . . . wherever, all because of you.”

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple appearing and disappearing behind his beard. A smile crept slowly onto his lips. “Heaven forbid.”

  With one last smoldering stare, he turned over his shoulder and walked out of the bedroom. She followed him to the front of the house, and before he could reach down for his boots, the door swung open.

  “Hey,” Jorie said. Her eyes were filled with suspicion as they bounced back and forth between Sam and Sydney. “What are you doing here?”

  “Had to pick up a book,” he said hurriedly. Sydney realized with a growing sense of doom that he wasn’t holding the book.

  “What book?” Jorie asked. She’d closed the door behind her but stood just inside, unmoving. They’d barely touched, but the memory of that brief brush of the lips burned her gut with guilt.

  “Oh, I—” Sam’s gaze lifted to Sydney, begging for a save.

  “Oh, duh,” Sydney said. “Almost forgot to go get it. Sam claims he came here for the book, but I really think he came for free beer.” Keep it simple. Nothing to see here. Just two friends hanging out in the living room, having a beer. Definitely not kissing in the bedroom.

  Sydney retrieved the book from her bedroom, and when she approached them at the front door, Jorie’s face creased with stern warning.

  “The book!” Sydney said, holding it above her head as if she’d discovered the Dead Sea scrolls.

  “Ah, great,” Sam said. He took the book from her, snatched his coat from the back of the chair, and snaked around Jorie before opening the front door.

  She knew it was dangerous, but Sydney needed him to look at her just once more. One more deep gaze to get her through the night. But he avoided her desperate stare and raised his eyebrows at Jorie.

  “See ya.” And with that, he slipped out the door and disappeared.

  Sydney’s heart pounded loudly against her rib cage. Jorie hadn’t moved an inch but continued to stand and stare at Sydney, seemingly waiting for something. Sydney didn’t know if she had it in her to lie.

  “Okay, that was super weird,” Jorie said. “What’s going on with you two?”

  “Nothing.”

  Jorie crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. “Listen. We haven’t known each other that long, but I like to think we’ve gotten pretty close. If there’s something to tell, I’d rather just hear it now. I’m not going to judge you, Syd.”

  Each sentence was like a hammer to her resolve, chipping away one blow at a time. She believed Jorie. But she also knew her place in the town was fragile. The success of the Loving Page depended on the support of the town, and if anyone found out she was worming her way between Liv and Sam, the store would never recover.

  “I’m not lying to you,” Sydney said, afraid her nose was growing as she spoke. “I will admit I have a crush on him.” She could feel the blush creep from her cheeks down her jaw and across her collarbone.

  “I figured that much,” Jorie said. “He obviously has a crush on you, too.”

  Sydney’s mouth threatened to curve into a smile until she willed it away. She never thought at this age she’d be so thrilled to hear about a crush.

  “I think maybe I’m a little bit awkward around him sometimes,” Sydney continued. “He came over to get the book, and he had a couple beers and told me the entire Liv story and I just got super awkward. That’s all.”

  Jorie nodded slowly. “All right.”

  Did Jorie believe her? She couldn’t tell.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I was keeping my crush in check, but I guess not.”

  “The two of you . . .” Jorie shook her head. “The thing is, Sam has always been a little different. Everyone thought after high school he’d move away and settle somewhere like New York or Boston or San Francisco. He’s supersmart, he loves to travel and debate, and I always felt like this town was way too small for him. So I can see why he might be interested in you.”

  It was the highest compliment, and it settled over Sydney like a blanket. “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Jorie said with a shrug. “But the whole Liv thing. With Sam it’s not going to be as simple as I like you, you like me, let’s get dinner. You know what I mean? He made a promise to her, and she’s been working so hard to prove that she’s worthy of that promise. To prove that she’s worthy of all of it.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m not saying the guy has to turn into a monk while he’s helping her,” Jorie said. “But I know Sam. He gives his whole heart or he doesn’t give anything at all.”

  His whole heart or not
hing at all. Sydney’s limbs trembled.

  Jorie narrowed her eyes and shifted her weight to one hip. “He told you the whole story, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Sydney said. “His history with Liv, the lawyer’s suggestion that a stable homelife would help her case, her drinking struggles.”

  The suspicion faded from Jorie’s eyes. “Right. Well, wow. He must really trust you.”

  The hope in Sydney’s heart climbed one rung higher. He trusted her. “I guess. I mean, I hope.”

  “Hey,” Jorie said. Her gaze softened with kindness. “If you’re really into him . . .”

  Visions of a sobbing Liv and a devastated faceless little boy played in her mind. No way would she risk ruining a family like that.

  “No,” Sydney said “Trust me. I didn’t come here looking for a guy.” Sydney hoped her voice didn’t reveal her defeat. Jorie was being kind, but this much she knew: Sam and Liv had a greater goal, and no one was going to come between them. No matter how much she might want to.

  chapter fifteen

  The store looked good. Really good. Sydney had avoided the cliché tinsel and tacky Christmas bulbs, instead opting for an elevated mountaintop Christmas theme, and the results were spectacular.

  Her interview at North Country Public Radio had been a great success, but in her excitement, she’d announced a holiday party taking place at the store that coming Friday. She’d had to scramble to deliver said party, and deck the space out for Christmas, while conserving the cozy shop feel for customers. It would be the first big reveal of the Loving Page 2.0, and the pressure was high.

  She’d hung twinkling white lights around Sam’s custom bookshelves and wrapped the exposed beams with fresh pine boughs, filling every inch of the shop with the clean, invigorating scent of balsam trees. Fluffy buffalo plaid blankets were draped over the couch, and she placed frosty hurricane lamps around the reading nook, with fake flickering votives inside. On the tiny coffee table she’d arranged holiday-themed romance novels, and on the evening of the party, Jorie would complete the scene with a tray of McDonagh’s famous homemade sugar cookies.

  “I hope people show,” Sydney said, gnawing at her lip.

  “I hope so, too.” Karen’s eyes lifted over the rims of her bifocals. No matter how beautiful the store looked, Sydney couldn’t get her mother over the hump of cynicism.

  “The party is only a small investment,” Sydney reminded her. “I only borrowed a little from what I made off selling my car. Most of the money went to buying book stock, actually.”

  Karen returned her stare to the newspaper. “Just don’t get your hopes up, Suds. Asking the people of Pine Ridge, or anywhere else for that matter, to come out on a snowy Friday night is a lot. Even if free booze is on the menu.”

  Sydney steeled her shoulders and attempted a calming breath. The party was step one. If she could convince her mother that people would come out, she had a shot at convincing her the book-club idea would stick. “I gave you a stack of postcards, right?”

  Karen waved the promotional postcards over her head without looking up. “Got ’em. I’ll hand them out at my church group Tuesday night, leave some at the community center for the town meeting on Thursday, and Yuri’s got a stack at the liquor store.”

  “And Mrs. McDonagh’s got a stack for her Bible study Wednesday night,” Sydney said, going over her mental checklist. “Jorie has some at the bakery. Matt promised to drop some along his route through Sherwood.”

  And Sam doesn’t have any because I haven’t heard a peep from him since Saturday night. She tamped down the churning anxiety and tried to forget about Sam. He was giving her space. It was logical. But it still hurt.

  “You’ve blanketed all of North Country,” her mother said. “Now you just gotta pray.”

  “Pray” was right. The success of the party, and the ultimate success of the store, relied hugely on the support of the town. She didn’t know anyone well enough to know if they’d show up for her and her mother. All she could do was hope.

  * * *

  • • •

  The week sped by, and Friday evening found Sydney racked with nerves. She tried to tell herself that even if no one else showed, she and Jorie and her mother would have the best party ever. Just the three of them. She’d gone on a long run this morning, despite the whipping wind and snowdrifts, in an attempt at clearing her head. Anxiety still flared.

  Sydney closed herself into the tiny office to change her clothes before the doors officially opened. She’d selected a high-necked, romantic red silk blouse with ripped skinny jeans and heels. If she was going to be the brains behind a romance book club, she wanted to look the part.

  At six o’clock, half an hour before the party was set to begin, Yuri arrived with cases of wine and beer. He’d sold it to them at cost, but the three times Sydney had attempted to pay him, he’d pushed her off. “I don’t want to carry cash on me right now, Syd; just hold on to it.” She suspected she’d eventually have to just leave the money in his shop before he’d accept it.

  “You want the drinks on the counter, right?” Yuri asked, wheeling over the hand truck. She’d set up a makeshift bar on the counter alongside a few trays of meats, cheeses, olives, and crackers. She hoped the small investment she’d made tonight would result in a few sales and even more word of mouth.

  “Yup, on the counter,” she said. “And Yuri? You’re taking the money tonight. No excuses. You have to stop doing us so many favors.”

  “If favors keep your mom in business, expect a lot more.” He flashed his gap-toothed smile at her, and she softened. He made Karen so happy, and he seemed genuine and pure of heart. Her mother deserved him.

  Sydney hurried around the shop, flipping on the sound system to Christmas party songs, adjusting items on shelves for maximum exposure, and lighting scented candles on a high shelf where they were sure to burn without catching on anyone’s hair or clothes. The shop was festive and glowing and homey. They were ready.

  At 6:31 p.m., Sydney’s heart raced and her stomach churned. “This is it,” she said with a nervous glance outside at the dark, empty town streets. “No one’s coming.”

  “You gotta relax,” Karen said. She handed her daughter a plastic cup filled with red wine. “Here. Drink this, please. You’re making me nervous.”

  Sydney clutched the cup, but she didn’t feel like drinking. She’d been drinking less since the disastrous night with Jared, and she wanted to keep the streak alive. She didn’t really miss it, and she loved the deeper sleep and clearer skin. It was obviously worth sticking with.

  She took a timid sip. Then another. Okay, maybe one drink would do me good. And just one.

  She checked her makeup in the office mirror, and just as she fluffed her hair, the front door burst open. “Merry Christmas!”

  Jorie, Matt, and Mrs. McDonagh all trounced into the shop, stamping the snow off their boots and peeling off their coats. Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. Even if no one else showed, at least the night wasn’t a total wash.

  “Welcome, welcome!” Karen said, ushering them in. “Please, hang your coats by the door and come in. Syd set up food and drinks, and there’s a raffle to win a fifty-dollar gift certificate to Yuri’s Liquor.”

  “Well shit,” Matt said, hurrying over to the raffle bowl. “Now I’m glad I came.”

  Jorie hurried over to Sydney and squeezed her in a hug. “You look beautiful,” she said. “And this place looks beautiful. I saw all the photos you’ve been posting to social media.”

  “Seems like it might be catching on,” Sydney said. “I got follows today from three huge Adirondack accounts, and then one of them reposted the event info. I got a bunch of new followers.”

  “The hot guys holding puppies is a pretty brilliant marketing strategy. Let me know if you want Matt to pose with my parents’ Yorkie.” Jorie winked.

  A laugh burst out of Sydn
ey’s mouth.

  “I’ll let you know.” She exhaled slowly. “I just want this to work so badly.”

  Jorie laid a hand on Sydney’s wrist and smiled. “It’s already working. You’ve managed to rally an entire town behind you. Just have a little faith.”

  The breath sailed out of Sydney’s nostrils on a steady stream, and for the first time all day, the tension in her shoulders eased. Jorie was right. She’d done all she could. Now was the time to have a little bit of faith.

  Mrs. McDonagh poured Matt and Jorie drinks, and by the time they’d made a toast to the success of the Loving Page, the front door opened again, and another group of people burst in. This time Sydney didn’t recognize any of the faces.

  The group was the first of many. By seven thirty, Sydney could barely move through the crowd of people packed into the place, and Karen rang up sales in a steady stream, her stony cynicism momentarily softened by the influx of cash.

  Folks had driven in from as far away as Utica, having heard Sydney’s radio pitch. They loved romance novels and wanted to see the place for themselves. The party was a great excuse to make the trip.

  “Sydney,” Jorie cooed, sidling up to her friend at the back of the store. “What did I tell you? Look at this place. Half the people I know and half the people I don’t. That’s an amazing turnout, if I may say so myself.”

  Sydney surveyed the crowd. Happy faces grinned at one another, sipped drinks, and screamed with laughter. Some people perused the shelves, and some simply enjoyed the festivities. No matter their reason for showing up, they were here. And if they came tonight, maybe they’d continue to show for a book club.

  What about Sam? The fly in the ointment. He hadn’t shown. Sydney thought that despite their ill-advised kiss last weekend, he’d be here to support her. She wanted to call him, to make sure he was okay and that he hadn’t missed out on tonight due to some terrible accident. But something told her it wasn’t that.