Rose, Exposed

by Afton Locke

  Rose, Exposed

  Afton Locke

  When Leroy gets promoted at the new oyster plant on Pearl Point, all he cares about is working hard. Then he meets flirtatious artist Rose, and soon nothing matters except getting her to the altar and into bed. He’s healing from a recent loss, and isn’t about to let her go too.

  Because Rose’s strict, social-climbing father doesn’t approve of dark-skinned Leroy, they court in secret. Although Leroy’s raw passion can convince her to do almost anything, why can’t he understand she needs freedom, not marriage? However, in the 1930s, freedom for any woman is hard to come by.

  In Leroy’s arms, Rose finds unimaginable sensual pleasures, but she’s torn by desire and duty. Her father wants her to be white; Leroy wants her to embrace her black heritage. Playing both sides of the fence leaves this young biracial beauty exposed in more ways than one.

  A Romantica® interracial erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

  Rose, Exposed

  Afton Locke

  Dedication

  As I write this dedication, it’s Black History Month. My inspiration for this book came from a story Charles W. Chesnutt wrote called The Wife of His Youth. It’s one of the most moving stories I’ve ever read. I was fascinated to learn about the Blue Veins, a society of biracial citizens who made the visibility of veins in one’s skin a requirement of membership.

  My book is dedicated to African-American writers like Chesnutt who preserved a piece of history for us to learn from today.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks to the town of Canton, Ohio, for having so many wonderful vintage cars and local experts to help me figure them out during my visit for the last RomantiCon conference.

  Author Note

  The setting, characters and events are purely fictional. I took some historical liberties, such as making the roads better than they would have been for that time and area. I also pretended the damaging 1933 hurricane had never happened and made the bi-weekly steamboat travel more often.

  Chapter One

  Oyster Island, 1935

  Leroy Johnson looked around the small cottage he’d grown up in on Crab Creek, wondering if it had always seemed this small. What little light there was in the living room made everything appear shabby. Was the kitchen table always so battered? Were the dishes on the shelf always so chipped?

  He didn’t remember his mother’s temples being this gray before either.

  Wilma gripped his forearms. “Boy, you’ve gotten so big I can hardly believe it.”

  “I’ve been hauling a lot of lumber. Sorry I missed church today, but I had to work.”

  She glanced heavenward and shook her head instead of answering.

  “You’re sure you doing all right, Mama?”

  Wilma frowned and swatted him. “I’m fine. Now how many times are you going to ask me that?”

  Again, his eyes drifted to his father’s empty chair, where Charlie had spent most of his time during the last part of his illness. Everything looked exactly as it had before, even the quilt. Every muscle in his body dissolved while he stood there.

  “I don’t like the idea of you here all alone.”

  She gazed at the chair too. “I need to stay close to him. Besides, I ain’t alone with Sadie and Buck right next door.”

  The mention of his sister pulled his gaze back to his mother’s face. “Is she all right? Is she happy?”

  The broad-shouldered woman heaved a sigh, fluttering the raveled collar of her patched-up dress.

  “Marriage made that girl blossom,” she declared. “When they come over, you can see for yourself.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do that. Does Buck row you all to the oyster plant?”

  Wilma laughed. “He’s not as good a sailor as you were, son, but he does all right.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to work so hard.” He held out his hands. “Come on, Mama. Move down to St. Mary’s County with me so I can look after you.”

  She folded her arms. “We already discussed it. My home is here near Oyster Island.”

  “Then maybe I should move back.”

  “No! You got a good job down there at Caleb Rockfield’s new plant.”

  The mention of his job swelled his chest. Caleb had taken on a monster of a task, resurrecting the ruins of a seafood house into a working oyster plant, and Leroy had worked right alongside of him.

  Before this job, he’d worked at the local plant, now run by Caleb’s brother Henry, shucking oysters with the rest of his family. What a tedious task, with long hours. The cold dampness hadn’t helped his father’s consumption. Leroy thanked God he had a brighter future to look forward to now.

  Besides, you got to look after Pearl,” his mother added.

  “She and Caleb are very happy together,” he assured her.

  “I still can’t believe my niece married a white man.” Wilma cocked her head. “What about you? When are you going to get settled?”

  He picked up his plaid cap from the kitchen table and studied it. “I reckon there’s plenty of time for that. I’m too busy working.”

  And much more interested in his work than courting. All he needed was a calendar with a pinup girl on it, a little grease and his palm to release the urges that built up. Most of the time, he was too tired from working to have urges and fell asleep as soon as he hit his bunk at night.

  “You broke another heart when you moved away,” Wilma pointed out.

  He gripped his cap tighter. “I’m sorry to hear it. That’s why I’m not courting any more girls unless I know it’s the right one.”

  When a branch dropped on the roof, his mother gasped. “Oh, that startled me.”

  “That’s because you’re alone too much.” He tossed his hat back on the table. “You wouldn’t have jumped that way before.”

  The hunch needling him, as if it were a mosquito, during this entire visit finally turned into conviction. Without a word, he headed to her bedroom.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she called out.

  “To do what I should have done a long time ago,” he replied over his shoulder. “I’m packing your things. You’re coming home with me.”

  “No, I’m not.” She caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “Don’t forget I’m your mama.”

  Shaking off her grip, he reached into the small closet and pulled out a laundry sack. It wasn’t a suitcase, but it would do.

  “And I’m the man in this family now.” He grabbed her two other dresses from their hooks and folded them roughly before shoving them into the sack. “What I say goes.”

  His mother planted her hands on her hips, her dark eyes glittering with fury.

  “I know you mean well, but you’re out of line. I am not leaving this house.”

  Leroy scooped some things off her dresser into the sack, cinched it, and heaved it over his shoulder. “Then I reckon I’ll have to carry you to the boat and tie you down.”

  “I reckon you will.”

  When a knock sounded from the front door, Leroy cursed and dropped the sack.

  “I hope Sadie can talk some sense into you,” Wilma grumbled as she left the bedroom.

  Leroy followed her, his frown turning to a smile when his sister came through the door. The smell of fresh rain arrived with her.

  “Leroy!”

  He scooped her into a hug until her feet left the floor. It was the first time he’d been strong enough to do it, because his sister wasn’t a small woman.

  “Sadie, girl, how’re you doing?”

  “Put me down. You look so big and strong I hardly recognize you.”

  Leroy released her to shake hands with Buck.

  Sadie picked up his plaid cap. “If you’re such a man now, why do you still wear this ridiculous cap? It’s
falling apart.”

  He grabbed it back from her and shoved it onto his head. “Because I can’t part with it. Papa gave it to me.”

  Sadie’s face softened. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten.”

  “And because he’s stubborn.” Wilma poured glasses of lemonade while everyone sat at the kitchen table.

  “I smell an argument,” Sadie said, her eyes bright with curiosity.

  Wilma set the glasses down extra hard. “That fool boy tried to haul my bones out of this house before you all came.”

  Buck took a deep swig of lemonade. “No need to worry, Leroy. We take good care of her.”

  As usual, the man had no expression on his face. His strong jaw made him look manly and capable enough, though.

  Sadie squeezed her husband’s hand where it rested on the table. “Isn’t he something?”

  Leroy glanced from one face to the other. His sister’s eyes glowed with adoration. She’d always complained about being the ugly duckling, and marriage had turned her into a swan. But something different showed in Buck’s eyes. Duty and lack of enthusiasm, but no adoration. Not even close.

  He winked at his mother. “Then I guess you can stay.”

  Wilma laughed and lifted her glass in mock salute. “Why thank you, son.”

  Draining his glass, he stood and said his goodbyes. “I’ve got to get back home. Work starts early tomorrow morning.” He looked up at the ceiling where rain pattered on the roof. “And beat this rain before the roads get bad.”

  “Hallelujah.” His mother kissed him on the cheek. “Now you can supervise those workers instead of me.”

  Next, he squeezed Sadie’s hand, wondering why Buck had married her if he didn’t love her. Leroy decided to find out. Maybe Mama didn’t need to move quite yet. Maybe he just needed to visit more and keep an eye on both his loved ones.

  * * * * *

  Rose Wainwright’s heart thudded against her chest when she slid into the seat of her father’s beige Packard. Ever since they’d moved to St. Mary’s County from Baltimore, she hadn’t been able to clear his words from her head.

  “You are not to leave this house under any circumstances until I can arrange a suitable match for you.”

  A prisoner in her own home! For some reason, she differed from most women because she had no desire to marry whatsoever. A suitable match didn’t sound very amusing either. Ever since Father made that decree, she’d carefully studied how he started the car. She’d even asked random questions about how the gears worked, which would be the hardest part of all.

  He and Mother had just lain down for an afternoon nap. It was the perfect time for a getaway…er, excursion.

  If only it hadn’t begun to rain. Glaring at the drops peppering the windshield, she willed the magical fairies to wipe them away. As usual, they didn’t obey and she had no idea how the wipers worked.

  She glared at her hands, which had already made the steering wheel slick with perspiration where she touched it. Her skin appeared ghostly and pale in the dim light. Her skin…the curse of her existence. If she could paint it as she did her canvases to any color she chose… Well, she didn’t know which color she’d choose, but that was beside the point.

  After inserting the key she’d taken from the kitchen, she pressed the start button. The car cooperatively started and she put it in gear, wincing when something made a sick grinding sound. She adjusted the stick to a new position and eased her foot off the clutch pedal as she’d learned. Now came the driving part. She’d never done it before, but how hard could it be? Father made it look so easy.

  She clapped with glee when the machine actually moved. She’d barely gotten halfway down the driveway when the thing stalled out. Sighing, she had to repeat the process all over again, which took longer this time. The car must not like rain either. Using every bit of her willpower, she made it onto the main road.

  It took all her effort to steer, which grew even harder when the holes on the road filled with water. She cursed words she didn’t even realize she knew and wiped the sweat from her face while the car chugged haphazardly as though it were a disobedient horse.

  How could something that looked so easy when other people did it be so dratted difficult? At this rate, she’d never reach Oyster Island. Then something awful occurred to her. What if she couldn’t get home? Father couldn’t exactly come after her without his car.

  Rain, thicker than paint, streaked the windshield. A horn honked as another car skidded while passing her. Her throat dried to sand and she screwed her eyes shut, tempted not to open them again.

  Rose realized she’d made a terrible mistake. Not only could she not drive this car, the rain made the road dangerous for everyone. What if she caused an accident? Somehow, she needed to turn around and head home.

  For the first time, she pressed her foot on the brake pedal. She’d been going so slowly out of her driveway onto the road she hadn’t needed it. If she had, she might have discovered it didn’t work.

  Fear coursed through her in waves, making her tremble behind the wheel. Had the car malfunctioned? That didn’t seem possible. Father always kept it in good repair. Clearly, she was doing something wrong, but what?

  She would simply turn around without the brakes. Where were the fairies when she really needed them? Useless creatures. Going as slowly as she could, she turned the wheel, sending the car straight into the opposite ditch.

  Leroy squinted through his windshield as he drove toward Pearl Point, his home and workplace. This road was lousy enough in dry weather, he thought, wishing his family lived closer. The last thing he needed was to wreck the car his boss had been generous enough to loan him for the afternoon.

  “Aw, hell,” he muttered at the sight of the big car sticking out in the road. The whole front end sat in the ditch. “If people don’t know how to drive in the rain, they should stay off the roads.”

  He parked behind the car, getting off the road as much as possible without going into the ditch himself. It was a luxurious Packard with whitewall tires and a hood ornament that looked shiny even in the rain. Whoever owned this car had money.

  While rain soaked through his shirt, he walked to the driver’s side and peered in the window. A very agitated pale face peered back at him. He gazed past her, hoping to find a man in the car who could help, but she appeared to be alone.

  “Double hell,” he muttered again, tapping on the window. Him, a white girl and a disabled car were not a good combination, but he couldn’t just leave her there. The sooner he helped her and finished with the whole business, the better.

  He waited, getting wetter by the minute, while the girl fumbled with the door. What was she trying to do? Did she even know how to drive? The window finally lowered a couple of inches.

  “Bless your heart,” she said. “Have you stopped to help me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Unfortunately, there wasn’t much he could do. Caleb’s old Model T sedan was smaller than hers, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t tow another car without the man’s permission. He would probably have to drive her home.

  “Come sit inside and get out of the rain while we discuss it,” she said.

  Getting inside the tilted car wasn’t easy. Being inside with her wasn’t any easier. Several overwhelming things hit him at once—the scent of rose water, soft brown doe eyes and the sweetest smile he ever saw.

  Her lace-trimmed dress had a rose pattern on it too. Freckles dusted her nose, matching the chestnut brown of her thick, wavy hair. When a lock fell across her eyes, he fought hard to keep himself from brushing it away.

  She’s white, he reminded himself. Don’t even think about it.

  “Listen, ma’am, I can’t pull you out of here with that car. I’ll have to get help. Meanwhile—”

  Reaching over, she touched his hand. “First of all, we need to introduce ourselves. I’m Rose Wainwright. Please call me Rose instead of ma’am.”

  When her long, delicate fingers trailed across his palm, he for
got how to talk. Every urge inside him reared to life at once. Aw, Jesus. Not now, he told his swelling cock.

  He cleared his throat. “I-I’m Leroy Johnson. Is this your car?”

  She shook her head and lowered her eyes. “It’s my father’s.”

  He had a feeling she didn’t have permission to borrow it either. A young lady dressed that nice didn’t usually go out alone.

  “These dratted brakes don’t work.” She peered at the floor. “I pushed and pushed the pedal, but nothing happened.”

  “Did you push the clutch pedal at the same time?”

  She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh. Was I supposed to?”

  “It’s the first time you’ve driven, isn’t it?”

  Her sheepish expression answered his question. She was lucky she was still in one piece.

  “I need to drive you home,” he insisted. “Do you live far?”

  He didn’t even want to guess what her father would think when he brought her home. To his dismay, she scooted across the leather seat until she was next to him. He was already up against the door and he gripped the handle, ready to jump out.

  She studied him with wide eyes, lifting a finger to trace his jawline. Fire ignited everywhere she touched. His cock surged against the inside of his trousers, so hard it ached. If she saw the bulge, it was her own fault for touching him.

  “You’re so…dark,” she exclaimed. Instead of the disdain he expected, he heard fascination.

  Come on, lady. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a colored man before.

  “Yes, I’m dark,” he agreed as he politely removed her hand, “which is why it’s not a good idea for us to sit alone together in this car. Someone might come along and jump to the wrong conclusion.”

  A conclusion that could get him beat up or worse with the Klan close by on Oyster Island.

  But before he could stop her, she clasped both sides of his face and pressed her sweet mouth to his. Aw, hell. A man only had so much self-control and she’d just shattered his. Unable to stop himself, he plundered her delicate mouth. Her lips reminded him of rose petals and he sucked the sweetness out of them as if he were a bee. The more he tasted, the more he wanted.