Before Sydney’s mother had retired, she had worked at Jessamine Savings & Loan. And, before that, her mother’s mother had worked there as secretary to the bank manager. So, in a way, it was Sydney’s legacy to work at JS&L, which meant she was stuck, and that was all there was to it.
Things could be worse, she supposed. She could be stuck in a small town that wasn’t built right on the Pamlico Sound. Or one that didn’t have an annual seafood festival and a boat parade on the fourth of July. Or a biannual pirates’ weekend when Blackbeard impersonators flooded the town by ship, motorcycle, and Greyhound buses. Trees certainly weren’t this showy with perfect blossoms and lime green leaves. Sidewalks couldn’t be this clean or have benches perfect for catching up with an old friend or two. Residents were never this chatty, and when someone was in need, no town could bend over backwards further than hers to help them out.
All in all, Jessamine was a pretty good place to call home.
She grinned. Even if she was romanticizing it a bit.
Glancing right and then left, she crossed Main Street and headed back to work. Her hour lunch wasn’t even halfway up, but one of her coworkers needed to leave early to get her nails done. Hot date and all that.
Sydney sighed. If only she could have a hot date, instead of one that ended with the inevitable brotherly kiss or—she internally winced—a fist bump. Gosh, that had been the most embarrassing date ever.
She had thought that Preston Lawson had really been into her. After all, he’d held her hand in the parking lot while she teetered on stilettos she had no business wearing in the first place, touched the small of her back while they walked through a romantic restaurant crowded with tables and chairs, and then took her to his favorite sports bar two towns over to go dancing.
Or so she thought.
Instead, he’d talked her into playing darts with another couple. Their team had won, of course, and Preston had given her a congratulatory fist bump before he’d walked away with the losing team. And, he had kept right on walking with the two women who had made up the other team, right out the entrance. She had ended up calling a local cab service, something that wasn’t all that common in eastern North Carolina, and had gone home in tears.
Her stomach twisted a little at the memory. “So humiliating,” she whispered.
“Sydney, wait up,” a familiar voice shouted, and she paused, scanning the street and settling on a tall drink of water heading her way.
Brody Lawson, still in his fireman’s bunker gear, jogged to her, a smile on his sexy face. His blue eyes twinkled and his dark hair had that mussed quality about it that bespoke of his hands constantly running through it.
Her heart pounded in her ears, in her chest, and well, everywhere. Every time she was in spitting distance of Brody, her body was one big, giant heartbeat. Not that it did any good.
“Hey buddy,” he said. And that greeting was exactly why.
Her pounding heart stuttered and dropped to her toes. Sure, they were best friends, but did he have to remind her of it all the dang time?
“Hey you,” she said, her smile automatically getting so big that her cheeks started to hurt. “Where’s the fire?”
“It’s out,” he laughed, coming to a stop mere inches from her. “Wilson Tractor Supply’s warehouse is a little worse for wear. I think we got it in time, and Barry had already sent third-shift home before the worst of it.”
More than a few women walked by them, heads turning like barn owls to ogle Brody. Not that she could blame them. Heck, she’d ogle the man every day if she had the chance. Like she was doing right now.
Sydney didn’t miss the smear of soot along his sharp cheekbone. “Missed a spot.” She pointed in the general direction of his face, not wanting to make it too obvious she’d been staring.
“Always looking out for me, Syd. What would I do without you?” Of course, he wiped the opposite side of his face. “Did I get it?”
“No.”
He turned his head slightly, his sexy gaze on her, pleading. “Get it for me?”
Touch him? Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
Hand shaking slightly with excitement, she smoothed her fingers over his skin, but the soot wouldn’t come off. “I think you’re going to have to wash your face again,” she said softly.
Turning back to her, he grinned and she didn’t move her hand. She didn’t move an inch. They stood like that for a moment, the tips of her fingers on his rough cheek. “No time to shave this morning?”
Brody shook his head a little. “The alert on my phone woke me up out of a dead sleep. I got dressed in the dark. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it later. Unless, you’re opposed to being seen with me in public like this?”
Opposed to it? She wouldn’t mind being with him in private, where no one would see, and she could explore his body. And… dear Lord. She had to stop this madness. Brody Lawson would never think of her like that, and she had no clue what she would do with him if he did.
Finally, she let her hand fall because to keep touching him was madness and a little strange. Her fingers tingled from where she’d touched him, and that tingling feeling was starting to spread to other places.
“I can only have one reason for not wanting to be seen with you in public?” she teased, trying to get back into best-friend mode. “I mean—the smell alone…” A helpless snort left her before she could stop it.
He gave her a look, one that made her knees weak and her heart slam against her chest.
So not helping.
“Brody Lawson,” a woman cooed from behind Sydney before he could speak. “It’s so good to see that the four-alarm fire that had you running from my bed this morning didn’t burn you up.”
“Cherry,” he murmured, his cheeks heating. “I called you as soon as I was done.”
Sydney watched as he stepped back a couple of feet. Her heart sank in disappointment. Of course, his heated gaze had been directed at Cherry McCoy, not at her. His red face, embarrassed gaze, and hurried retreat was more than enough evidence of the fact.
Whirling around, she pasted a smile on her face and greeted Cherry. The strawberry blonde gave her a genuine smile back. “Sydney. Don’t you look just darling in that dress.” She flicked her brown-eyed gaze to Brody. “Doesn’t she, sugar?”
Despite knowing what was good for her, hope slowly rose inside of Sydney. Maybe Brody would really take a look at her and—
“Well…” he began, visibly swallowing.
Sydney forced her gaze to Cherry. “It’s okay. Brody and I don’t discuss my fashion choices.”
Cherry rolled her eyes. “You’re allowed to compliment the woman, best friend or not.” She looped her arm through Sydney’s and tossed her hair in a way only a McCoy girl could. Every single one of them was liked by everyone in town, just like Sydney—only, unlike Sydney, men loved the McCoy girls. Worse, the McCoy girls were nice, genuinely nice, to everyone. They didn’t have a mean bone in their perfect bodies. It was unfair, really. “Tell her how pretty she looks.”
Brody’s gaze turned panicked, and he started to sputter. “Um. Well, I—”
Sydney wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “I have to go. My lunch break is already up, and Mabel Leigh has to leave early.”
“Brody.” Cherry raised her eyebrows purposefully, and Sydney glanced at Brody. “You’re making her feel bad.”
“Actually, you’re the one—” He shook his head. “You look very pretty, Sydney.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I really have to go. If I’m not back, uh…” She faltered, unable to think of a reasonable explanation as to what anyone would do to her for not taking her entire lunch break. Inspiration struck. “People won’t get their money. It’s Friday. People need their money.”
Letting go of Sydney, Cherry patted Brody on the shoulder. “See that didn’t hurt a bit.”
Brody grunted, narrowing his gaze on Cherry. “Maybe it didn’t hurt you.”
Stunned and more than a little hurt by his answer,
Sydney took the opportunity to escape. “See y’all later,” she announced with a cheery wave.
“Don’t forget about tomorrow’s softball game,” Brody called out.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She smiled once more, and then hurried away.
Ugh. She hated living in the friend zone, especially in the we-can’t-win-without-you friend zone. It made her feel wanted when she had no business thinking that way. Men talked about it all the time, but women… they weren’t allowed or even assumed to be in the same category.
Being friends with a hot guy was bad enough, but being in love with your best friend was worse.
Chapter Three
‡
Eyes narrowing on Sydney’s retreating form, Brody watched her curvy hips sway as she practically ran in the opposite direction. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Cherry.
“You didn’t have to do that to her,” he said.
Cherry light brows crashed together. “Do what—make you notice that Sydney is a woman for once?”
Oh, he noticed. He’d been noticing since high school. Senior year. She’d been MIA the entire summer, working as a camp counselor for underprivileged kids, and had shown up on the first day of school, all tan legs and curves that hadn’t been there at the end of the previous year. Not that he could do anything about it.
Sydney was his best friend. She’d always been there for him, always listened to him when he need to bitch about his job, always ready to go whenever he called, and she made him feel comfortable. So comfortable that he didn’t know he’d fallen in love with her…until recently, that was.
A damn shame since she obviously didn’t feel the same way about him, and he wasn’t about to screw up their friendship by doing something so stupid as to tell her. So, he dated while keeping an eye on the guys who wanted to date her.
Okay, so maybe he kept more than an eye on them. Maybe he had threatened every single one of them with bodily harm if they didn’t treat her right. Hence, his warning for Kyle to stay the hell away from her. Not even his cousin, Preston, had been spared the talk.
“She didn’t need you humiliating her,” he pointed out.
A frown marred Cherry’s pretty face. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate her. I was trying to help. Her last date, with your cousin, was a disaster. Did you ever think she might need some cheering up?”
“No,” he admitted. Because all he could think was that his cousin wouldn’t be getting his hands on her. And, he would never apologize for it, because no one would ever know what he did behind Sydney’s back. For her own good, of course.
Cherry fisted her hands on her hips. “He gave her a fist bump before leaving with two other women. She had to call a cab, Brody.”
“What?” he barked as guilt and a healthy dose of outrage filled his veins. Of course, he focused on the outrage. He’d deal with the guilt later. However, his cousin…When he got his hands on Preston, that boy would be sending flowers and—
Brody frowned. Maybe not flowers because that might give Sydney the wrong impression.
“Some best friend you are,” Cherry muttered before a smile curved the corners of her mouth. She gave him an appraising look. “My roommate isn’t home for the weekend. Care to come over,” running her hand down his chest, she stood up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss over his lips, “and have a pajama party with me?”
Cherry McCoy’s version of pajamas were see-through or none at all. He liked both versions. Only, he was getting tired of seeing them on women who weren’t Sydney.
“I’ll even make sure you get to eat your favorite dessert—Cherry a la mode.”
And that was a mental image he didn’t need at that second. Mostly, because he was a man and the thought turned him on—okay, so mostly because he’d partaken of Cherry a la mode and had come back for more. A lot. Which made him as bad as his horn-dog cousin, Preston. Worse, Preston was barely twenty-two, while he was twenty-eight and should know better.
“That’s mighty gracious of you, darling, but—”
Cherry’s lips went into full-on pout mode, something the McCoy women were born knowing how to do in order to get their way. Usually, the sight of those perfectly pouty lips made him change his mind.
But this time…
He glanced over the woman in front of him, zeroing in on Sydney’s bent head as she walked to work. His heart flipped in his chest. He hated seeing her looking so defeated, especially when he was the cause of it.
“I’m on call this weekend, so I wouldn’t be able to give you the attention you deserve,” he finished smoothly, silently thanking God it wasn’t a lie.
“Oh,” Cherry chirped. “I guess that’s as good excuse as any.”
Brody reeled a little from her mercurial change in attitude. “You’re not upset?”
“Oh yeah.” She nodded vigorously and placed a dainty hand over her heart. “Completely.”
The little liar. “I can see how it’s tearing you up inside,” he said, more amused than anything. Cherry was up to something. He’d known her long enough to recognize the signs. “Want to grab a bite to eat? My treat.”
She flicked her gaze over him. “Thank you, but I’ve already eaten.” Then she whirled around and walked away, without so much as a good bye.
If he didn’t know better, he would think that she was headed to the bank where Sydney worked. But everyone knew that the McCoys didn’t do business there, on account of their grandfather starting a rival bank at the opposite end of the street.
“Women,” he muttered, heading back to Yates’ Diner, where his buddies were already eating. He should have done the same and headed there first, instead of getting all excited and running after Sydney when he’d spotted her blonde head.
“Face it. You’re in the friend zone. For good,” he said, opening the door. “Nothing’s going to change that.”
Unless a miracle happened.
Chapter Four
‡
Nothing emphasized Sydney’s friend-to-every-man status more than playing in the town’s softball league. She’d been fist bumped, swatted on the backside, and high fived more times than she could count during the course of the game.
Brody was the worst with his ‘atta girl’s’ and ‘way-to-go-buddy’ every time she scored or stole a base. In the past, she would have preened from that sort of attention from him, but after yesterday, she wavered between planting her fist into his solar plexus or smashing it into his nose.
The only saving grace was Kyle Davidson. He winked at her, told her how good she looked, and cheered her on. Sure, he was eight years younger, but she would take compliments where she could get them. At least he noticed she was a woman, and didn’t need his girlfriend to tell him so.
She shuddered at the memory of her, Brody, and Cherry.
At least it was halftime and the teams could take a breather while the cutest cheerleaders in two counties danced on the field. With a little smile, she clapped for the boys and girls as they performed to Jaxon Hunter’s latest hit.
A couple of her teammates plopped down beside her, stretching out their legs and dusting off their shoes. Sydney scooted over on the bench to make room and watched Brody as he talked to Cherry through the fence that separated the crowd from the ball field while everyone waited. Even she had to admit that his narrow hips, muscular thighs, and broad shoulders looked good in uniform.
His fingers curled through the metal as his big body leaned against it. He said something to Cherry, and she threw back her head, laughing. Another woman shouted his name and he turned, big smile on his face as he waved.
Sydney rolled her eyes. “Men,” she huffed.
“Good grief,” Lemon McCoy muttered beside her. “He’s almost as bad as Tristan.”
Sydney glanced at the town’s reigning beauty queen, giving her a wry smile. “No one is as bad as Tristan Lawson.” Or as devastatingly handsome and sexy. Except for his twin brother, Mason. It was a crime that Sydney felt nothing for them at all beyond feminine ap
preciation. Worse, it was a crying shame that the only Lawson that had ever done it for her was Brody.
Lemon laughed. “Thank goodness for that. Did your mother try the lotion I sent her? I heard it was good for people with delicate skin.”
“Yes! She loves it, and she gave me some to try.” Sydney flexed one hand. “Normally, I can’t apply anything with a scent. So no bubble baths, shower gels, or scented shampoos. It’s plain Jane stuff all the way.”
“I’ll order the rest for you, then. It’s from Carolina Dreams over in Holland Springs. Everything Rose and Summer makes is good for you,” Lemon said. “Even Mark likes their stuff.”
Despite her jaw-dropping looks and to-die-for body, Lemon was the exact opposite of her sisters, Cherry and Apple, when it came to men. She’d been dating the same guy for years, one who preferred to pursue activities that were more refined—like sailing and golf—than playing on a co-ed softball team. But, he usually supported Lemon in all of her activities.
“Did Mark get here, yet?” Sydney asked.
Lemon’s pretty, hazel eyes misted over. “No,” she whispered, leaning in closer. “He’s—we’re not seeing each other anymore.” She sniffed.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” she added. “We haven’t informed our parents yet.”
“Did you want to talk about it?” Sydney couldn’t help but ask. Though the dugout wasn’t the most private place to talk about relationships, she hated seeing someone in pain. Especially, someone as kind and sweet as Lemon.
“Not really,” she said miserably. “It happened rather suddenly. I still can’t wrap my head around it, but I knew the team was counting on me today. So,” she shrugged. “I’m here in body rather than spirit.”
With a sympathetic nod, Sydney gave Lemon a hug. “And I’m here if you need me.”
“Thank you. My sisters don’t understand at all. They think the best way to get over a man is to get a new one.”
Love So Hot Page 2
