“I left her a voice mail message. Listen, Marcus, I’m sorry about the chair incident. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
She looked even more beautiful in the rosy lighting of the room that picked up the highlights in her dark hair and the shine on her full lips. Her dark eyes were luminous. He had the crazy urge to kiss her, and before he could crush the thought, his body reacted independently, hardening in all the wrong places.
Because he couldn’t get the image of her half-naked wet body out of his mind.
“Forget it,” he bit out, then took a step toward the front door.
“Are you leaving?”
He stopped. “Yeah…my back is bothering me.”
“I hope your bed is comfortable.”
“It isn’t,” he blurted, then felt like an idiot. Because it sounded as if he was fishing for an invitation to climb into hers…which was ridiculous.
“Oh,” she murmured. “That’s…too bad.”
“It’s fine,” he added quickly. “The barracks are just bare-bones accommodations, that’s all.” Plus her bracelet was under his mattress and made it lumpy.
“It sounds…simple,” she offered.
“That’s how I like my life,” he rambled. “Simple.”
She squinted. “Okay.”
He was acting like a moron. “Good night,” he said abruptly. Marcus didn’t wait for her to respond, just bolted out the door as fast as his tender back would allow him to move.
Sleeping tonight loomed as a very remote possibility.
12
A shrill noise yanked Alicia from a deep sleep. She sat up straight, disoriented, heart pounding and ears piqued. Police siren? Ambulance? Fire alarm? She looked at the clock—it was just past 6:00 a.m.
A flurry of motion at the window caught her attention. A black bird sitting on the sill cawed in a strident decibel.
Her rural setting flooded back to her. Alicia groaned, then tossed one of the pillows at the window, but it fell short. The bird kept squawking. She fell back on her bed and put the other pillow over her head. The one morning she could sleep in, and the stupid bird wouldn’t shut up. At that moment, she would’ve given anything to be back in her bed in her Manhattan apartment, dozing peacefully to the background noise of honking horns, garbage trucks and raised voices from the street.
And where she could set the air conditioner as low as she wanted. She reached around to pull at the cotton gown she wore that was stuck to her back. The town’s commitment to energy conservation meant thermostats were set high in the summer, low in the winter. She’d been steeping like a teabag since she’d arrived.
A tickle on her arm sent her flailing—a fly had been pestering her all night. The insects here were relentless. She cringed to think where the fly had been before it had found her room and her bare arms—in a nice manure pile somewhere? The worm-juice compost bin?
She swatted at the fly and it flew away…for now. Alicia sighed and pulled the pillow off her face. She was wide-awake and utterly exhausted. Sleep had eluded her last night not just because of the pesky fly and the pervasive heat, but because of her encounter with Marcus Armstrong.
Had he heard her speaking into her voice recorder when he walked into the front room, or had he bought her story of leaving a message for her mother? She pressed her fingers to her lips. And had it been her imagination, or had he been on the verge of kissing her in those few minutes before he walked out?
A smile curved her mouth. Maybe the man wasn’t totally immune to the opposite sex.
Then she frowned. On the other hand, considering the ribbing he’d taken over the chair ride to the clinic, he could’ve just as likely been on the verge of throttling her. The man was obviously not accustomed to being the brunt of a joke.
She sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. As usual, she checked the floor for possible creepy-crawlies before she put her feet down. When the coast appeared to be clear, she stood and walked over to the window where the noisy bird still perched. She waved her arm to shoo it away and watched it swoop down to a tree branch across the road.
She’d never seen so much green in her life. It was unsettling, all this untamed vegetation. At home she’d strolled through Central Park countless times which, by comparison to this wild place, was groomed and manicured. Yet even after walking through the Park, she’d always felt somewhat relieved when she returned to the surety of sidewalks and streetlights. Nature was just too unpredictable for her tastes.
But she would fake an interest for as long as she was here.
She padded to the table where her laptop sat and turned it on to boot up while she showered. A headache pinged her temples…she’d give anything for a cup of espresso from Grant’s, and a copy of the Sunday New York Times. Alicia gave in to a few pangs of homesickness for the energy of the city and for her friends and coworkers. While the people here in Sweetness were friendly enough, an invisible barrier existed between her and everyone she met because they didn’t have anything in common.
She simply didn’t understand the appeal of living here when there were so many more exciting places to settle down.
After a quick shower, she returned to her laptop where she typed in as many snippets from last night’s dinner conversation as she could recall, aided by the voice recordings she’d made when she’d excused herself from the table to avoid further exchanges with Rachel Hutchins. The woman who subscribed to Feminine Power magazine had given Alicia a scare when she’d said she recognized Alicia from somewhere.
She only hoped the blonde didn’t put two and two together.
Dr. Salinger and Amy Bradshaw’s stories had been interesting, and had ended well…so far. They were both obviously enamored of their men. And they all seemed to get along so well, she’d felt like an interloper at dinner…especially when she sensed that Marcus didn’t want her there.
But she recognized allies in the women in her quest to stay close to Marcus, had thanked them profusely for including her and hinted she wouldn’t mind spending more time with the eldest Armstrong brother. Alicia had squashed a pang of guilt when the women exchanged conspiratorial glances. She had a job to do, after all.
She checked the time and, after determining she had several minutes before she had to dress to attend the worship service, she picked up her phone and dialed her mother’s number. Candace was an early riser, so Alicia wasn’t surprised when she answered.
“Hello?”
Her mother’s cheery voice made her smile. “Hi, Mom…are you busy?”
“I’m working on some new jewelry designs, but no, I’m never too busy to talk to you.”
Alicia’s stomach fluttered with remorse—she kept forgetting to check Bo’s truck for the missing bracelet. “Tell me about the jewelry you’re making.”
Her mother scoffed. “I’m just experimenting with odds and ends I picked up from an estate sale, some ivory buttons and copper findings.”
“Sounds interesting. Have you contacted any of your friends in retail?”
“Not yet. I’m trying to figure out a way to get my pieces in front of customers first, just to see how people respond.”
“That’s a good plan. How’s everything else?”
“Fine,” her mother said, but her voice was tight. “How’s your story going, dear?”
“Fine,” Alicia mimicked.
“Can you tell me what it’s about?”
“I’m looking into some business activities around here, that’s all. Will Bo need his truck back anytime soon?”
“He doesn’t seem worried about it,” Candace said. “He’s content to drive my car, I think.”
Alicia squinted. “Doesn’t he need a truck for landscaping?”
“I guess not. Say, how’s that mountain man boss of yours?”
“Bossy.”
Candace laughed. “Sounds like your father. It’s rather attractive, isn’t it?”
Alicia frowned. “Not particularly. But I have to stay close to this guy.”
“Mother.”
“Women have slept with men for far worse reasons,” Candace said, as if she were referring to herself.
Alicia pinched the bridge of her nose—too much information. “I have to be somewhere in a few minutes, Mom. I just called to check in.”
“Okay, dear. Call again soon. Take care.”
Alicia disconnected the call, shaking her head over how quickly the conversation had gone sideways. And reading between the lines, it sounded as if things between her mother and Bo weren’t peachy.
She sighed, then pushed to her feet and dressed for the morning services. Not sure what to expect, she put on a skirt and summery blouse and sandals, then made her way downstairs, her conscience tripping over how long it had been since she’d attended any kind of religious service.
At the bottom of the stairs, she was met by the pet deer, sporting a sequined collar with the name “Cupid” and a yellow tennis ball in its mouth. Alicia recoiled from the animal and tried to sidle around it, but the doe followed her, its hooves tapping on the wood floor. Two little girls came sliding up, dressed in their Sunday best.
“She wants to play fetch,” one tow-headed girl explained.
“Take the ball and throw it,” the other one urged.
Alicia gave them a tight smile, then inched her hand forward. The deer opened its mouth and dropped the ball. Alicia dipped to catch it, grimacing at the drool dripping from the ball. She tossed the ball back down the hallway, and the deer and the little girls went running away. Holding her slippery hand away from her, Alicia went in search of a paper towel in the large community kitchen abuzz with activity. Moving between bodies, she managed to wipe her hands, then helped herself to a cup of coffee from one of the two coffeepots. Everywhere she turned, she was greeted with “Good morning!” and “Lovely day, isn’t it?”
She wasn’t accustomed to so much friendliness, so early in the day. What kind of medication were these people on?
A small crowd had gathered in the rear great room where the dining tables had been pushed to the perimeter and chairs set up in neat rows, with a podium in the front. Feeling self-conscious, Alicia took a seat in the back row, recalling how uncomfortable she’d been the previous evening, praying with the Armstrong family and holding Marcus’s hand throughout. She had felt like an imposter.
Alicia smirked to herself—she was an imposter.
Everyone she encountered had a greeting and a handshake for her. She rallied to respond in kind, but slumped down in her seat when Rachel Hutchins walked in. To her chagrin, the blonde made a beeline for her.
“Alicia, right?”
She hid behind her coffee cup. “Yes.”
“Mind if I sit?”
“Actually—”
“Great!” Rachel dropped into the next seat. “You disappeared last night.”
“You were gone when I returned from the ladies’ room.”
Rachel smiled. “I hope you didn’t mind my teasing about the chair incident—that was priceless.”
Alicia returned a weak smile. “I didn’t mean to cause an uproar.”
Rachel scoffed. “We need an uproar around here.”
Alicia’s curiosity got the better of her. “Where are you from?”
“Broadway, Michigan. I was one of the women who answered an ad the Armstrongs placed in the newspaper for women to help build their town. In fact, I spearheaded putting the group together.”
This woman was the ringleader? Her story should be told. “Do you mind if I ask why you came?”
The beauty smirked. “I had half a dozen engagement rings and no wedding dress, plus a dead-end job. I saw the ad in the newspaper promising single men and a fresh start and I thought why not?”
“And?”
Rachel grinned. “I’m seeing a big, hunky scientist whose last name is Devine, and girl, is he ever.”
Alicia smiled. “So things are going well?”
Rachel nodded, then her delicate eyebrows furrowed. “Except he doesn’t like kids…and I’d like to have three or four.”
“That sounds sticky.”
“I’ll tell him when the time is right,” Rachel said with a little wave. “I’m hoping he’ll be so in love with me by then, he’ll change his mind.” She angled her head. “Wow, I’m getting that feeling again that I know you from somewhere.”
Alicia took a long sip from her cup. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”
Luckily, a chime signaling the start of the service interrupted their conversation. Alicia darted a glance around the room and spotted Porter and Nikki, Kendall and Amy and Tony…but no Marcus. She wondered briefly if he abstained from religious ceremony or if his back was worse this morning. It would’ve been more fodder for her blog if he himself had shown up in a suit, wielding a Bible and preaching fire and brimstone to his townspeople, but she acknowledged a certain amount of relief that he hadn’t assumed that role. Instead, a pleasant-looking man who appeared to be in his thirties walked to the front of the room holding a Bible.
“I hope this works out,” Rachel whispered. “We’re looking for a minister for the church that’s being built.”
Alicia turned her head. “A church is being built?”
Rachel nodded. “Next week. This is sort of an audition.”
The man bestowed an encompassing smile on the group. “G-g-good m-m-morning. M-m-my n-n-name is M-M-Michael M-M-Mason.”
“Oh, dear,” murmured Rachel.
Alicia cringed inwardly as the man proceeded, wondering why on Earth a person who stuttered would choose an occupation that required him to speak to crowds. But after a few minutes, her respect and admiration for the minister grew. Despite his speech impediment, he exhibited an ease of manner and sense of humor the crowd seemed to respond to. And although she’d attended the service with the anticipation of uncovering some kind of patriarchal agenda, his simple message about living an authentic life seemed directed at her, the woman sitting there under false pretenses. Alicia squirmed throughout, as if a spotlight shone on her head. At the close of the service, she was antsy to make her escape.
On the way out, she said hello to Nikki and Amy. They invited her to a community barbecue—apparently it was a regular Sunday event on the school grounds.
“Everyone is welcome,” Nikki said.
“Will Marcus be there?” Alicia asked.
Nikki made a rueful noise. “I doubt it…Porter asked him, but he said he had other plans. But stop by if you can make it.”
Alicia thanked them and slipped out of the room while Rachel Hutchins was preoccupied with the minister. The less time she spent with the woman, the better.
In fact, she was feeling claustrophobic. She’d underestimated the emotional energy required to maneuver in a small community—especially for someone like her, who, despite having her own column in a high-profile magazine, was accustomed to going about her life in Manhattan in relative anonymity. A good, sweaty run sounded appealing. The heat would be brutal, but the solitude would be worth it.
She returned to her room and changed into running shorts, sleeveless shirt and sneakers, then pulled her hair into pigtails and strapped on a belt to hold a water bottle and an armband to hold her MP3 player. At the last minute she remembered the key for Bo’s truck so she could look for her bracelet. She stopped by the kitchen on the way out to fill her bottle with cold water, once again dodging Rachel, opting to exit through a side door.
When Alicia stepped out into the blistering heat, she almost changed her mind—the humidity was as thick as cotton. She would have to pace herself and stay hydrated. She stopped under the shade of a copse of trees for warm up stretches, with a nervous eye on her surroundings, on the lookout for rattlesnakes, scorpions and bears in particular.
A spongy path alongside the boardinghouse led to Main Street. A group of children with soccer balls were heading in the direction of the school, with adults carrying coolers straggling behind. Se
veral people buzzed by on four-wheelers.
Small-town Americana at its best, and Alicia literally wanted to run in the opposite direction. She felt like an alien here.
Alicia jogged the short distance to the grassy lot where she’d parked Bo’s blue pickup truck among dozens of other vehicles. Just looking at the jalopy brought back bad memories. She opened the driver’s-side door and stood back to allow some of the heat to dissipate, then leaned in to look for her bracelet. It was a messy undertaking. In addition to “Pam’s” panties, she found a small black address book wedged down in the seat, several empty beer cans and fast-food containers, and more than one roach clip. But no bracelet.
Disappointment washed over her and the sudden tears caught Alicia by surprise. She wasn’t normally a sentimental person, but her mother had never made her anything before and her carelessness made her feel like an ungrateful child. Desperate, she closed her eyes and replayed in her mind the last time she remembered seeing the gift.
Putting it on at her mother’s house…adjusting it on her wrist a few times when she was driving…snagging it when she pulled her T-shirt over her head at the creek—
At the creek.
Her heart sped up—if the bracelet had fallen in the water, it was gone. But maybe she’d dropped it on or around the rock she’d sat on.
She estimated the distance back to the covered bridge and decided the run was doable. Hopeful that she’d find the bracelet, she walked back to the paved main road and set off on a slow jog.
The sun was ruthless. Soon she was sweating profusely, and she was a nervous wreck from scanning the unending foliage on either side of the road for wild beasts. She wound up removing the ear-buds so she could hear an impending attack. By the time she was seriously regretting the run, it was too late to turn back, so she kept pressing forward. No cars passed her…she’d never felt so alone. Her mind started playing tricks on her, imagining all kinds of terrible outcomes. In that moment she realized how much she needed population density around her. When the covered bridge came into view, she exhaled in relief, then downed the last of her water and picked up the pace.
Just the sound of the creek running lowered her body temperature a few degrees. She slowed to a jog, then walked to the covered bridge to cool off, and sought refuge in its shaded interior until her heart rate slowed.
Baby, Don't Go Page 9
