by Kate Angell
Sidney blinked. “How’d you know I was seeing Mr. Teasdale?” She shook her head. “I thought it wasn’t like watching a movie.” She held up a hand. “On second thought, I don’t want to know.”
Amelia Rose smiled and pushed to her feet as the back door swung open. The man who’d been working outside strode in, pulling his sunglasses off, his mouth open to pose a question. A question that died on his lips as soon as his eyes landed on Sidney.
“Sidney, this is my groundskeeper and overseer, Sawyer Finn,” Amelia Rose said.
She kept talking. There were words about South Carolina and having things in common floating somewhere in the room, but Sidney was pretty sure he didn’t hear any more than she did.
Sawyer Finn.
“Caleb,” she breathed, the word not cracking a sound.
Caleb. Looking at her. Those dark eyes making her feet sprout roots into the rug. The blond hair was a little darker, the face was a little scruffier, the lips—they were the same.
He blinked, something—almost painful crossing his face.
“Squeak,” he whispered.
And yet she started as if he’d yelled it through a megaphone. It was still a joke. He remembered what he did, even down to the nickname he had for her.
“Who?” Amelia Rose said. “You two know each other?”
Sidney shook her head, propelling her feet into motion. “No,” she managed, her voice sounding odd to her ears. “Don’t know him at all.” Getting to her feet, she prayed her knees would hold her. “Excuse me, I need to go. I have—”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t finish the thought. All the newly drunk and happy muscles proceeded to braid themselves tightly back together as she clickety-clacked her way out of the house, her heels moving faster than her brain.
“Sidney!” she heard him call behind her, but she kept going.
She yanked her shoes off and carried them, covering the cobblestone inches quickly in her bare feet. Got in her car and begged it to start. To hell with staying there. She’d sleep in her car in a parking lot somewhere before she—shit. Her overnight bag. And her coat. They were still sitting happily inside that house, probably drunk on cookie fumes, too.
Looking in the rearview mirror through hot tears she despised, she saw him standing in the front yard as she pulled away, watching her leave.
How ironic that was.
* * *
“Shit,” Sawyer said through his teeth, turning as the car veered out of sight. He raked his fingers through his hair and wished he was wearing his cap so he could throw it.
“Well, that explains a few things,” Amelia Rose began behind him. “Want to tell me—”
“No,” he said. “I don’t.”
What were the odds? What were the damn odds that Sidney Jensen would show up here, hundreds of miles away from Derby, South Carolina, at this particular cottage? Looking at him with those eyes—those damn eyes that stripped him down every day of high school, that gazed up at him from her knees and made him think of all kinds of naughty things. That made him want to be better, be more, be hers. That gave him the courage to ask her to tutor him, to get to know more than just the body he already fantasized about. The eyes that ripped his heart out on that football field.
* * *
He couldn’t care less what that chick had to say up on that podium. Or what his father had to say to them after that. He didn’t hear any of it. All that was important in his world was how Sidney’s fingers felt intertwined with his. The feel of her skin, the metal of her class ring under his fingers, the pulse at her wrist racing against his. How her thumb started moving, too. And how hard his dick was getting.
Everything about Sidney Jensen turned him on, and the kicker was that she had no idea. She actually believed that shit about being invisible. Good God, she had no clue just how wrecked she made him on a daily basis. How just watching her walk down the hall did him in. Watching her organize her locker like it was life and death. Watching those fucking sexy, full lips as she talked and the little crease above her nose when she concentrated. All the little things that got him through each day, and now it was about to be over. All his chances were about to go up in smoke. She was the only reason he’d stayed in school, that he’d stayed in town as long as he did, and now he was going. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn’t matter where. She’d be going off to college, and there was nothing to hang around for anymore.
Sawyer Finn.
That was a pretty cool idea.
“We have to stand,” Sidney whispered, leaning over closer.
“So let’s stand,” he said with a grin, pulling her up with him.
He didn’t let go, and she didn’t, either. God, that was amazing.
“. . . presenting the senior class of . . .”
And then everyone was moving their tassels over. Shit, it was over. It was over. The night, the year, he’d wasted it. He could have asked her out a hundred times, kissed her a thousand. Touched her. Wound his fingers up in that hair and—shit, he needed to quit before the baggy graduation gown didn’t hide it.
But he hadn’t. Hadn’t wanted to bring her into his world. His world that his own mother didn’t want. That she ditched. His world that consisted of frozen dinners and barbs and insults and notes to do his homework, because his father wasn’t going to be home.
And now the time was running out, and she was standing next to him, her hand warm in his, and people were throwing their caps and yelling and hollering, and she wasn’t. She was looking up at him. With those eyes that said this was it. This was his chance.
And he took it.
Letting go of Sidney’s hand, he took her face in both of his, and the gasp that escaped her lips just about sent him over the edge as he covered that incredible mouth with his own.
Everyone else disappeared as he tasted her. Lips that tasted like strawberries and excitement. Lips that he’d fantasized about forever, that were just as hungry for him, as they parted for him and took him in. Her hands landing on his chest. Fingers curling into his gown. Fuck, he was toast. Pulling her to him, he took. Took all she was giving. Gave all he had. Ignored the hell out of the noise and snickers and comments of the others next to them, he didn’t care.
“Sidney,” he finally breathed against her mouth.
“Caleb,” she said on a shuddering breath. God, she was beautiful.
“Come with me.”
Those damn blue eyes shot open in shock. “Wh-what?”
“Come with me tonight,” he said. Knowing it was crazy. Knowing she’d say no. Praying she’d say yes.
“What?” she repeated, her lips swollen and puffy from his kiss. Damn, he liked that. “Tonight—where? What are you—”
“I’m out of here,” he said.
Her eyes filled with tears, socking him in the gut. She cared. Damn it. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“For how long?” she asked, the words falling off at the end. Even in all the chaos, he could still hear her every word.
“I don’t know,” he repeated. “But you could come. Right now.”
“Now?” Her eyes went huge.
He took two breaths and decided to throw it out there.
“Now,” he said. “Right now. While everything’s crazy.”
“But—”
“For tonight or for forever, Sidney,” he said, hearing his own words and feeling the excitement and terror they charged him with. “Your choice.”
The adrenaline rushed through his veins. It was insane. It was terrifying. But it was the time to do it. Before things like logic and reality settled in. Before he had to endure another insult or jab or disappointed look. Or just absolute invisibility. Sidney had no idea what being invisible really was.
“Caleb, I can’t,” she breathed. “My nana’s here, she’s—she’ll be down here on the field any second now. And your dad—”
“My dad won’t even know I’m gone,” he said, hearing the sourness
in his tone and choking it back. “I’m good. You have family, so give her fifteen minutes of picture taking, and then meet me behind the field house,” he said, his mind whirling. His hands twitching with the need to touch her again.
She laughed. Not at him, but just like he was crazy. Like they couldn’t do that. Be that irresponsible. She was never irresponsible. She’d never even ridden on his bike, because her nana told her not to. It was against the rules. But shit, she was thinking about it. He could see it in her eyes.
“Fifteen minutes,” she repeated, like she was calculating the time.
“Here,” he said, pulling off his class ring. He grabbed her hand and pressed it into her palm, folding her fingers over it. “To show you I’m serious. That I’ll be waiting for you.”
Her breaths were choppy as she opened her hand and then closed it, holding her fist to her chest after she pulled hers off, too.
“You don’t have to do that,” he said.
She pressed it into his hand. “Kiss me again,” she whispered.
How he heard the words, he had no idea, but he had her in his arms before she could change her mind. Lifting her off her feet. Making her laugh just before he held the back of her head and kissed her for all he was worth.
* * *
Sawyer stood with his hands on the scratched metal of his truck’s side rails, feeling the tightening in his chest. In the breaths he took in. That was the memory he’d chosen to carry with him all these years. Sidney laughing. Sidney with her arms wrapped around his head, kissing him back with all she had, breathing fast, wanting him, carefree for once in her life. Not the one of her crying, arms wrapped around herself, fist held tight around his ring, thinking he’d left her behind. Not the gut-wrenching guilty one of watching the only person he ever loved finally give up after an hour in the dark alone and walk away.
And now—now, he’d watched her leave again. Upset again. Because of him. Again.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the metal tighter. Pushing that look from his mind.
He never thought he’d see her again. Certainly not sitting in Amelia Rose’s kitchen, his place of business, looking up at him with the same beautiful eyes and over a decade’s worth of accusation.
He could go after her. Find her. Explain.
Apologize.
Or he could keep moving these stupid-ass gnomes.
Chapter 6
Sidney drove blindly through town, not bothering with the GPS, breathing hard as she looked determinedly for a street named All Souls Avenue.
“How hard can it be?” she yelled at the windshield. “It’s a town of fifteen damn people!”
She swiped angrily at two more hot tears as they left her eyes, hating every second of the weakness she felt coursing through her veins. She was a strong woman now. No more of that insecure twit she used to be. The one who fawned over Caleb James like a starved puppy. Falling into his arms and his mouth on graduation night, buying the body language and the sexy words. Believing his lies that he wanted her with him, that he was serious.
Caleb James. Sawyer Finn. Whatever the hell he was calling himself. It was all a farce. And the fact that it had chased her out of the Rose Cottage like her ass was on fire just set her belly to boiling. Nothing was supposed to undo her like that. Ever again. That was why she was still single. No one got under her skin. No one could hurt her like that again.
“And why the hell am I crying about it now?” she yelled. Again. “Ugh!”
It was one damn night on the heels of an intense year. Twelve years ago. To look at her now, one would think she was engaged to the guy. Last week. Good grief, this was ridiculous.
“Get it together,” she breathed, wiping another stray tear away. “Get it fucking together.” She had a job to do. She didn’t need to think about how he looked or the expression on his face or any of the other 459 little details she could obsess over if she let herself.
“What the hell street am I on?” she muttered, thinking maybe she did need to pull over and consult her GPS. But her car was making that weird clacking noise it had made on the way in, and she was a little afraid to stop. She might not get going again. “Seedling Street,” she noted, passing a sign. “All Souls!”
It was straight ahead in front of her, and Sidney almost did a happy dance right there in the car. Thank God. Something else to focus on.
Turning onto All Souls Avenue, which was lined with a variety of pumpkins in front of each door, she glanced left and right, looking for the soda shop. She hadn’t thought to ask if it still had a sign. Or what the sign might say. And she didn’t remember what the name of the shop was, only that the address was 163. Okay. Maybe she could have studied the file a little closer before hitting the road, or had the professionalism to bring it with her, but she’d kind of planned on doing that while freshening up in her room before leaving. Which didn’t happen. Because—ugh. The way she bolted out of there, she was lucky she’d had her damn wallet with her.
So she’d be winging it. With hopefully at least—please tell her she had a pad of paper somewhere in the car. God, she wasn’t starting this off very well.
A picture of an ice cream soda in a tall glass caught her eye to the right, and she tapped the brakes in relief and pulled into a parking spot. A tiny 163 showed above the glass door, but it certainly wouldn’t have been enough to wave and get her attention. Blowing out a breath, she rooted around in the console, found the small spiral she’d once used to track her mileage, a pen she tested quickly for ink, and set them next to her wallet. And the little skeleton key on the rose key chain.
Oh, this day.
Makeup—that would have been a grand plan. She took a quick look in the rearview mirror and did a swipe-and-repair job on her eyes. Did she look like a lawyer people could count on to take care of business?
“I look like a war orphan,” she said to her reflection.
One more deep breath, and she cut the engine and palmed the keys, praying it would start again. She got out and patted the hood on her way to the door, trying not to smell the aroma of burning something-or-other. Surely her car wouldn’t do that to her. It had gotten her this far.
Grasping the old door handle, she pulled it open.
“Mr. Teasdale?” she called, remembering the old woman’s words. Had she checked up on her? How on earth did she know whom Sidney was there to see? Then again, small towns did tend to know everything. About everyone. She certainly knew that.
“Yes?” came an answering elderly voice.
“Mr. Teasdale, I’m Sidney Jensen?” Sidney called again, stepping inside to way too much heat. “From Finley and Blossom—er—Orchid’s firm?” And why was she posing everything as a question like a first-year associate? Woman up, Sidney.
“I know who you are,” said the old man, coming around a corner, a cane taking on the brunt of the weight on his right side. His tone was gruff, but his eyes gave away a softer side. They were light blue and surrounded by wrinkles that proved a lifetime of laughter. A full head of white hair, meticulously groomed, and starched and ironed jeans proved he was related to Orchid. “You’re the one my niece sent so that she didn’t have to come trudging over here.”
“No, actually, I offered,” Sidney said, feeling the odd urge to defend her boss. “I needed the brownie points,” she lied with a wink. “Still working my way up, you know.”
She discreetly fanned herself with her blouse. He must have had the heat cranked up to ninety in there. A bit overkill for the low damp fifties that was outdoors.
Besides that, it was charming. An olden-days feel to the ambience, antique fixtures and an oversized soda fountain bar, round tables and wooden chairs, a chalkboard menu. It was adorable. And closed.
“So,” Sidney began, looking around. “This place is amazing. Did it just not make it, or you closed on purpose?”
“I’m Arthur Teasdale,” he said slowly, holding out a hand.
Shit. People skills.
“Sorry,” Sid
ney said, shaking his hand and eternally grateful he didn’t grasp hers as if it was a wet fish. “Very nice to meet you. Orchid had all nice things to say.”
“No, she didn’t,” he said, propping his cane against a chair, and pulling out another to sit in. He gestured for Sidney to do the same. “I’m surprised she even said we’re related.”
“Well,” Sidney said, putting on what she hoped was a believable smile. “She’s a busy lady. I hope to be as good as her one day.”
“Don’t hope for that,” he said. “Don’t turn into her.”
Sidney started, surprised. This was his niece he was talking about. “Why?”
“Because she lost her soul along the way,” he said, settling in with a long sigh. “Once upon a time, she was a sweet, funny little girl. Then my sister and her husband got some money and got snobby, and passed that crap on to Orchid.” He scoffed. “Smith, by the way.”
“What?”
“Her last name,” he said. “It’s not Blossom. It’s Smith.”
Sidney’s eyebrows raised, and she laughed, the feeling relaxing her muscles again. “Seriously?”
“She changed it to that ridiculous name before she went to law school,” he said, waving his hand. “Guess she thought it made her stand out more. Look all feminist or some such crap.”
“Oh, wow,” Sidney said, covering her mouth.
“Yeah,” he said. “The things you learn, huh?” He pushed back his chair a little to spread his legs. “So, to answer your question, my wife died. That’s why I closed this place.”
“Oh, shit,” Sidney said, clamping her lips closed on the word. Thinking before speaking. Professionalism. Not cursing in front of clients. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “Wasn’t your fault, and I’m sure Orchid left that out, too. If she even remembered. No, God wanted my Layla back, unfortunately before me, and so she had to go.” He rubbed at his face, not a whisker to be seen. “But this was her baby, not mine. Her passion. She had a way with it. With people.” He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t have that skill.”
Sidney chuckled. “I know the feeling.”