The Road to Rose Bend

by Naima Simone

  A huge, multicolored tent filled with several huge barrel grills and picnic benches hogged one corner. The delicious aroma of grilling meat and vegetables marinated the air, eliciting a rumble from her stomach. Children’s delighted screams peppered the air from the play area jam-packed with bouncy castles, slides, swings and jungle gym equipment. On the stage, a local band jammed to classic rock covers. The Glen burst with people of all ages, races, walks of life. They settled on blankets and towels, danced in front of the stage, shopped among the covered vendor stalls or hung out near the grills. And surrounding it all—whether in the sectioned off parking area, the street in front of The Glen or cruising Main Street—were motorcycles. It was a carnival-meets-rock-concert-meets-flea-market atmosphere.

  And it was glorious.

  Out of habit, she scanned the crowds for a six-feet-plus figure with wide shoulders. In seconds, her gaze found Cole. There’d never been any doubt she would. Maybe there was a magnet buried inside his chest that drew her focus, her being. Because he inexorably drew her to him, even though she knew the smart thing—the only thing—would be to keep her distance.

  Apparently, her body didn’t agree.

  She drank him in.

  A cream-colored, short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants fit his leanly muscled body to perfection, emphasizing the strength and power in his chest, arms and thighs. His beautiful face with its stark lines and angles. The sensual, full mouth stretched into a smile for the benefit of the people who surrounded him.

  She inhaled a shaky breath that had her thighs quivering. Echoing the taut pull deep inside her. Would she ever be able to look at that mouth again without remembering how close it’d been to owning hers? Without recalling how his breath had warmed her lips? Without craving the kiss she’d been denied?

  Doubtful.

  Because even now, she forced her arm to remain at her side instead of pressing trembling fingers to her flesh. Even now, she couldn’t evict him from her thoughts. She should be thankful for that knock on the office door. Without tasting him, without knowing how it would feel to be possessed by him, she battled the need that invaded her veins, her blood, her thoughts. If she had actually kissed him?

  She might have become obsessed.

  And humiliated.

  Because Cole’s horror and guilt couldn’t have been any clearer. He’d been offering her comfort, and she’d ruined it by allowing her hunger for connection, for intimacy, for him to hijack what should’ve been a moment between friends. And now, other than a quick phone call to thank her for volunteering to write the community center grant, they were back to avoiding one another.

  Longing stretched tight and snapped like a rubber band inside her. Not just for what she couldn’t—and shouldn’t—have, but for the friendship she’d come to count on.

  As if he sensed her attention on him, Cole’s head lifted, and before she could turn away, their gazes locked. Held. And her heart sank toward her stomach as that smile ebbed then disappeared.

  No, he hadn’t forgotten. And hadn’t forgiven.

  Swallowing hard, she did turn away, her pulse jackhammering against her throat. Today was about having fun, enjoying friends, letting go of her worries for a little while. Tonight, when she lay in her bed, with nothing to distract her from her own self—that would be the time to dwell on Cole and the aching emptiness.

  She hurried after Leo, who’d entered the area with the covered booths. In moments, her shopper’s heart soared in happiness. Over thirty vendors hawked their wares. They offered everything from clothes to motorcycle gear to art to jewelry. God, she could spend hours in here. Happily.

  “Look at this, Sydney,” Leo said, waving her over to a stall loaded down with gorgeous silver jewelry. “What do you think?” Her friend held up a dangling set of earrings fashioned in the shape of butterflies. “I was thinking about buying these for Moe for her birthday next week.”

  “They’re beautiful.” Sydney brushed a fingertip over the tiny, detailed figures. “Wow. She’ll love it.” Moe had a thing for butterflies, and as far back as Sydney could remember, figurines and paintings dotted the inn. Especially in the kitchen, Moe’s domain.

  “I think so, too.” Leo grinned and turned to the person behind the booth. “I’ll take this pair, please.”

  Sydney glanced up from the other pieces. “You have seriously gorgeous work—oh my God. Cherrie?”

  She gaped at the statuesque woman before her. The ends of her dark, tight curls were dipped in red, and sexy curves filled out a leather patchwork vest and tight, dark denim. Tattoos covered an arm from wrist to shoulder. Though eight years had passed, Sydney easily recognized the friend she’d looked forward to visiting every summer since she was eleven.

  “Hell no!” the other woman yelled, pushing open a side door in the stall and rushing through it. “Sydney! This can’t be you.”

  “It’s me.” Sydney laughed as her childhood friend squeezed her tight and rocked her from side to side.

  “What are you doing here? I can’t believe this. The last time we saw each other you were ready to blow out of here without ever looking back. I can’t—holy shit, babe!” Cherrie breathed, her endless stream of words ending on a gasp. “You’re pregnant? Congratulations!” Cherrie tugged Sydney close for another hug. “Girl or boy?”

  Sydney shook her head, grinning, her head whirling from Cherrie’s rapid-fire words. “A girl.”

  “Hold on.” She released Sydney and hustled back behind the booth. A glance around revealed that several pairs of eyes, male and female, watched the other woman, with more than a little lust. Not that Sydney could blame them. What Cherrie did for low-rise jeans should either be illegal or canonized. “Here. A gift for your little girl.”

  Sydney stared down at the dainty, child-sized bracelet. The silver gleamed, and the tiny flowers, leaves and vines etched into the metal exhibited the artist’s talent and attention to detail.

  “Cherrie,” she whispered, running a fingertip over the engraving. “It’s stunning. I can’t take—”

  “You will,” Cherrie ordered, slipping the jewelry into a plastic sleeve and handing it to Sydney. “My welcome-home gift—although I’mma still need that story—and I would be honored if your baby’s first piece of jewelry came from me,” she added softly.

  “Thank you, Cherrie.” She squeezed the other woman’s hand. “I love it, and I’ll make sure my little girl does, too.”

  “Don’t be surprised if I turn up with more, now that I know you’re back. Besides, we’ll be seeing more of each other since I’ve made Rose Bend my home base when I’m not traveling.”

  Sydney studied her friend’s cheeky grin with narrowed eyes. Then she grinned, too. Widely. “It’s a man, isn’t it?”

  Cherrie rolled her eyes, sighing loudly. “Isn’t it always?”

  “I’d like to think it’s also my sharp wit and sparkling personality,” a deep, rumbling voice said from behind Sydney.

  A smile so bright it was almost blinding lit up Cherrie’s face. Sydney pivoted, and cranked her head back to meet the ice-blue eyes of a giant. A gorgeous giant. She blinked. Wow.

  “I know, babe.” Cherrie snickered. “I had the same reaction.”

  The man, who might have edged out even Cole and Wolf in height, squeezed between the booths and pushed into Cherrie’s to sweep her up into a tight embrace. His head lowered, his auburn hair mingling with Cherrie’s darker curls. Though he just brushed his lips over hers, Sydney almost had to fan herself from the heat these two threw off.

  And if an emotion that felt suspiciously close to envy crept inside her like an uninvited intruder, well... Her joy for Cherrie’s obvious happiness counterbalanced it.

  “I think I just got pregnant,” Leo whispered, and Sydney smothered a laugh.

  Finally, the two separated and Cherrie turned to Sydney and Leo, but still remained glued to her man�
��s side. “Maddox, let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Sydney Collins. And this is...” Cherrie shook her head, her lips curving into a rueful smile. “You must think I’m so damn rude. I’m sorry I didn’t even catch your name.”

  “Leontyne,” Leo offered with a chuckle. “But most everyone around here calls me Leo. And I already know your guy here. Hey, Maddox.”

  “Leo.” He nodded, then switched his attention to Sydney. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. We might not have met, but I’ve heard about you.”

  “Of course you have,” Sydney said, and not defensive about it this time.

  Maddox shrugged a huge shoulder. “Small towns,” he supplied in way of explanation. And really, it was all that was needed. “I run Road’s End, the bar at the edge of town. When you come by, first round’s on the house.” His eyes dipped to her stomach, her bump more visible in her long, strapless, forest green maxi dress. “The round will be cranberry juice, but still. Free.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it, Maddox. And it’s awesome to meet you.”

  “Ooh, we need to make this happen while I’m still in town,” Cherrie pronounced. “A girls’ night! And don’t worry.” She leaned forward and patted Sydney’s hand. “Leo and I will handle your share of the booze.”

  Leo sighed. “It’s the least I can do for a friend.”

  “You’re all heart,” Sydney murmured, arching an eyebrow. “Let’s make it happen.”

  Several moments later, she hugged Cherrie goodbye, and Sydney and Leo continued through the stalls, finally locating Cecille. Wolf, with Cecille’s cold beer, rounded out their small group.

  For the next few hours, they enjoyed great food, wonderful music and even more wonderful company. Sydney couldn’t remember the last time she’d had as much fun as she had with these women and their laid-back guardian. Even when Wolf left to man his booth so he could relieve his help—a teen named Trevor, Leo had informed her—they still remained together until the sun sank and stars—that wouldn’t have been visible in Charlotte—glittered in the night sky. As one of her favorite bands from the ’90s took the stage and sang about only wanting to be with you, she danced along with her friends, laughing and throwing every worry to the wind along with her arms and hands.

  “Aw shit,” Leo grumbled.

  Sydney peered over at her friend, frowning, concerned. “What’s up? You okay?”

  “Yeah,” Leo muttered. “And no. Incoming.”

  Slowly, Sydney lowered her arms and turned, a kernel of dread burrowing into her chest. One glance in the direction Leo scowled, and that kernel bloomed, pressing against her rib cage.

  Jenna Landon. With a girl crew of three behind her, including Karina, the woman who’d been with her in the ice cream shop the week before.

  Hell.

  “I swear, I don’t hate anyone. Her included,” Leo muttered. “But if she was on fire and I had a glass of water, I’d drink it—Hi, Jenna,” Leo greeted the slender redhead as she neared them.

  “Hi, Leontyne,” Jenna purred, stepping forward and gathering Leo in a hug as if she hadn’t just seen her the week before in the ice cream shop. Leo returned it with a lackluster pat on the back. And mouthing “help me” to Sydney with wide eyes.

  Sydney covered her snicker with a cough.

  Releasing Leo, Jenna bestowed more hugs on Cecille, the clique behind her following suit. But when Jenna eventually turned to Sydney, her mouth pulled into a tight and utterly fake smile. No hug for her.

  A shame.

  “Sydney.” Jenna treated Sydney to a not-so-subtle up and down look that clearly relayed she found Sydney lacking. “How nice to see you again.”

  “Likewise,” Sydney replied. Yeah, she wasn’t subjecting herself to this high school, mean girl bullshit. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Leo and Cecille. “Nature calls.”

  Leo coughed into her fist, and Sydney could’ve sworn it sounded a lot like, “Liar.” Grinning, Sydney wiggled her fingers and walked off.

  But not before Jenna called out, “I’ll go with you. No woman should be alone among this...riffraff.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Oh, I insist,” Jenna cooed.

  Annoyed at both the other woman’s doggedness and her snobby attitude toward the people gathered, she didn’t say anything, but stalked off. Hoping she could lose Jenna in the crowd.

  But no such luck. Jenna sidled up beside Sydney, matching her step for step and sticking beside her. Like a freaking pit bull with lockjaw.

  Shit.

  Sydney didn’t attempt to convince herself that Jenna gave one bit about her welfare. Accompanying her had a purpose. But damn if she would ask. Nope, if Jenna was going to get her petty on, it would have to be without Sydney’s help.

  “So, how’re you feeling, Sydney?”

  She deserved an award for containing her eye roll. “Fine, thanks.”

  After several more moments, Jenna tried again. “Hmm. I heard you’re having a girl. I guess congratulations are in order. Or are they?”

  Heat surged up her from her stomach, scalding her chest and throat. Sydney jerked to a stop, fixing her expression into what she hoped was an aloof mask, one that didn’t betray the anger simmering inside her.

  No way in hell am I giving this chick the satisfaction of seeing she’s getting to me.

  “You obviously have something you’re dying to say to me, so just say it,” she ordered, her tone almost pleasant. Almost. Nothing she could do about the thread of Bitch, please it contained.

  Jenna halted as well, her eyes widening in an innocence that didn’t fit her. At all. “I don’t know what you mean. I was just commenting on the fact that the news might not be as joyous as it usually would be considering the father isn’t here to share it with you.”

  “Funny, but no matter how I look at it, I can’t seem to find how any of my business is yours. Hold on a sec.” Sydney rolled onto the balls of her feet, propped the side of her hand over her eyes and made a show of scoping out the open, wide field of people. “Nope.” She shook her head, spreading her hands wide. “Still can’t find it.”

  The faux pleasant smile dropped from Jenna’s face, and her mouth twisted into a sneer, her eyes narrowing into angry slits. Aaand there we are, ladies and gentlemen, the real Jenna Landon.

  “You always had such a smart mouth and acted like you were more than what you were. What you still are. An embarrassment. You think we all don’t know the truth? That Cole took pity on you and convinced his family to give you a home out of charity because your own family doesn’t want you under their roof? You might act high and mighty, but you’re not. You’re just a charity case.”

  Her words jabbed Sydney’s heart, her self-esteem...her soul. Because though Jenna had the story wrong—if it were up to Cole, his family wouldn’t have leased her one of the guest cottages—it still contained elements of truth. Enough that she quietly bled. She did embarrass her family. They didn’t want her here—her mother had practically begged her to return to Charlotte.

  She shoved the hurt and shame down; she’d excavate them later. But right now? Jenna wouldn’t ever get the satisfaction of witnessing her poisonous darts striking a direct hit.

  Jenna would never get to watch Sydney crumble.

  Even if Sydney silently shook.

  “What did I ever do to you?” Sydney murmured, the question escaping her almost without her permission. She hadn’t planned on asking it. Hadn’t planned on delving into the past. But apparently, her mouth had different ideas.

  Jenna stared at her, mouth twisted into a sneer. “What are you talking about?”

  “For a while there, we were actually friends. Except for Leo, you were the person I was closest to. What happened between freshman and sophomore year that made you hate me so much that you used every opportunity you could to tear me down and make me feel like shit? What mad
e you hate everyone so much?”

  Something flashed in Jenna’s gaze—something dark, bleak even. But then, her eyes narrowed, and those lips that could actually form a very pretty smile turned up in a deviant version of it. “Hate everyone?” she repeated with a dismissive scoff. “Dramatic much, Sydney? And as for our so-called friendship, what can I say? It’s not a mystery. For a year, I was into charity. Just like the Dennisons. But like I did, they’ll discover you aren’t worth it.”

  That shouldn’t have hurt. Sydney recognized the gibe for what it was—a poisoned dart aimed straight at her confidence. But it struck true with deadly accuracy.

  Still... Damned if she’d allow Jenna to see it.

  Sydney shook her head. “I almost feel sorry for you, Jenna. Your life must be damn boring and pitiful if you’re consumed with mine. Because again. None of. Your. Business.”

  “Who you hurt with your ‘poor abandoned single mother’ routine is my business,” Jenna snapped, leaning closer until her face hovered inches from Sydney’s.

  You’re pregnant. You can’t lay her ass out because you’re pregnant.

  The warning boomed in her head, and Sydney drew in a deep breath, trying to grab her fury and wrestle it into submission. Besides, Jenna wanted her reaction. She sought to put Sydney “in her place.”

  Like father, like daughter.

  Well, fuck that.

  “I’m not going to allow you to manipulate the people who are in my town. And they’re my people. Not yours,” Jenna continued. “No one wants you here. They either pity you or have no respect for you. Just like you have none for yourself. Throwing yourself at Cole and his family.” The corner of her mouth curled into a disgusted smirk. “I would say you need to be ashamed of yourself, but we both know you don’t have any.”

  Later, she reminded herself. Lick your wounds later.

  Tilting her head to the side, Sydney arched an eyebrow and smiled, knowing it would piss off Jenna even more. And it provided the side benefit of covering up the throbbing holes where those well-aimed verbal punches had landed.