Summary
Jordan Simón returned home to West Virginia five years ago and opened her restaurant. She seems to have it all…except a life. On the verge of her fortieth birthday, she doesn’t know which will devour her first—the regret and emptiness of living a lie about her sexuality or the agony of past transgressions. As she struggles internally, she meets Emmy. Desire builds with each encounter, but another painful secret from the past is eating away at Jordan.
Emmy Russo is visiting her Aunt before moving to Washington DC. Confident and bold, she’s always been an achiever. After losing her wife six years ago, no one has piqued her interest until she meets Jordan. Yet being in a closeted relationship is the last thing she wants.
Can Jordan find the strength to face her conservative neighbors and family members and overcome the secret from her past? Will they be able to live in an open and loving relationship, or will the country’s politics set them back? Falling for Love is not just a romance, it’s about family, friends, and forgiveness.
falling for love
a winter romance
falling for love
a winter romance
addison m. conley
Sapphire Books
Salinas, california
Falling for Love - A Winter Romance
Copyright © 2017 by Addison M. Conley. All rights reserved.
ISBN EPUB - 978-1-943353-98-9
This is a work of fiction - names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without written permission of the publisher.
Editor - Nikki Busch
Book Design - LJ Reynolds
Cover Design - Treehouse Studio
Sapphire Books Publishing, LLC
P.O. Box 8142
Salinas, CA 93912
www.sapphirebooks.com
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition – November 2017
This and other Sapphire Books titles can be found at
www.sapphirebooks.com
Dedication
To M&M. Thank you for helping me become my true self.
Acknowledgments
This book would not have been possible without the assistance and kind support from many people. Thanks to the editor Nikki Busch and the folks at Sapphire Books Publishing. Most of all, thank you, Isabella – CEO Chris Svendsen – for your dedication to GCLS mentorship and bringing me into the Sapphire family. A big shout out to Ann McMan for an incredible cover.
To the instructors and classmates at the Golden Crown Literary Society (GCLS) Writing Academy, thank you for the inspiration and sisterhood. And Karelia, thanks for the extra advice. We may be from different parts of the country, the world, and professions, but our passion for writing unites us. Also, I never would have joined the writing academy if it had not been for Karen R. talking up a storm and introducing me to the amazing Beth B. – thank you.
To all the wonderful authors I’ve met at GCLS, particularly those that participated in Rehoboth Beach from 2012 to 2015 Women’s Fest – too many to name – but you all were the first to open my eyes to GCLS and the broader world of LesFic.
Thank you to my beta readers: Loretta HK and Tracy S. Your feedback was invaluable. Special thanks to Loretta HK for going the extra mile, having faith in my writing, and not sugar coating anything, but most of all, for being an ally to myself and others.
To Kaitlyn and Justin, you’re always in my heart.
Chapter One
The dull throb in her head, a dry throat, and tired muscles made Jordan feel like a cardboard figure going through the motions. Searching the desk drawer for the draft of her new menu, her fingers touched the book she had long ago forgotten. Gingerly pulling it out, a Polaroid picture fell to the floor. She picked it up and wiped off the dust. A tear ran down her cheek. No matter how much success she achieved and how hard she tried to focus, the screams of the past lurked in her brain, reminding her there was no running away.
She cringed at the sound of a metal tray hitting and rattling on the other side of the door, and a sharp jab behind her left eye added to the pain. Tucking the picture back into the book, she carefully slid it from sight. After wiping her eyes and taking a few deep breaths, she left the office and displayed the best cheery persona she could muster.
It took a few moments to adjust to the glare of the kitchen lighting, but her eyes cleared as she stepped into the dining room with its warm glow of candles. Laughter, the clanking of glasses, well wishes, and playful shouts echoed throughout. She mingled with her customers long enough to be polite and rushed through a couple of encounters—the frequent patrons who either hit on her or tried to fix her up with a friend or relative. They never gave up, especially when fortified with alcohol. Spotting a family friend, she changed directions and vowed to make this the last table.
“Good evening, Betty Jean. Pleased to see you’re feeling better.”
“Why thank you, dear. The canelones are incredible, but against the better judgment of my doctor, I ordered extra spices and garlic.”
Jordan noticed a half-eaten bowl of her favorite chicken stew across from Betty Jean. It had been hours since she ate, no doubt adding to her fatigue and mood.
“Betty Jean, are you on a date?” She propped her hand on her hip, flicked her eyebrows up, and widened her smile.
Between a rumble of laughter, Betty Jean said, “Don’t I wish.”
Out of nowhere, Jordan caught the hint of lilac—springtime, wet blossoms. Her eyes briefly fluttered.
The touch of Betty Jean’s hand snapped Jordan back to the present. “I’d like you to meet my niece, Emmy Russo. Honey, this is Jordan Simón, the chef and owner of the restaurant.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Simón. I never expected to find delicious authentic Spanish cuisine in the eastern panhandle of West Virginia. The dish was prepared to perfection.”
“Welcome to La Vida Al Máximo, and the pleasure is mine.” Jordan extended her hand. The woman’s grip was firm yet gentle, and there was something about her accent, perhaps British. Jordan was instantly drawn to her and equally embarrassed that she noticed the low-cut neckline of the teal blouse, which revealed ample round breasts.
After several minutes of conversation, Jordan excused herself back to the kitchen. The smell of lilac lingered in her senses. Hesitating at the door, she glanced back. Emmy was watching her.
****
The woman had a gorgeous face, but Emmy savored the view as she walked away. The sway of the hips and the long black ponytail contrasting against the crisp white chef jacket were alluring.
“Your eyes seem to be popping out of your head, dear.”
“Why, whatever do you mean, Auntie? And why the whisper?” Emmy turned and smirked over her teacup before taking a long sip.
Betty Jean eyed her before saying another word. “I think you’re looking in the wrong direction.”
“Looking doesn’t hurt. Besides, you said yourself there’s always been a liberal element in town. I’m merely interested as to how much Oakville has changed since my last visit a few years back.”
“A few years. It’s been closer to ten.”
“Ouch. Guess I deserved that.” She glanced over and saw Jordan paused at the kitchen door. Their gazes lingered a split second. Emmy smiled but there was no hint of a similar return from the beautiful woman.
“So tell me, why haven’t I met her before?”
> “She moved to Spain after high school and returned about five years ago to open the restaurant.”
“Does she have a partner?” The words were spoken out of curiosity and partially to tease her aunt, but Emmy was not expecting the harsh glare that silently said, “Don’t even think about it.”
“She’s Gwyneth’s daughter and Elizabeth’s niece. You know, my best friends.”
“I’m only admiring the positive change in this quaint town.”
“And as I said, I think you’re mistaken. Try to stay out of trouble while visiting.”
“I promise to behave, but I have no intentions of hiding or avoiding anyone because of who I am.”
Betty Jean leaned over, and her eyes softened. “I’m not asking you to. It’s…some people around here have problems. Her older brother has become a religious radical. Be careful for everyone’s sake.”
****
The next morning, Jordan crawled out of bed half-asleep and stumbled toward the kitchen. Her body ached, almost like a hangover, even though she’d only had two glasses of wine the night before. Minutes later, curled up on the sofa next to the picture window and nursing a potent brew flavored with hazelnut, she gazed at the unique beauty of the forest.
The trees reached up to the gray sky. Their limbs were losing leaves fast this year. The landscape was scattered with boulders, and the mountain brook trickled by. It was beautiful, peaceful, and lonely at the same time. Soon winter would come. Just as nature had a way of turning, so did most things in life. The turmoil inside her had reached new depths. The lies and half-truths piled around her were like landmines that required precise navigation.
Her eyes fixated on the large solitary boulder. She was like that one: hard, isolated, and wearing down with the winds of time. No doubt to others, she appeared to have it all. If only they knew the truth.
Life in Madrid had afforded her freedom away from prying eyes and small-town prejudice. A space to grow. Yet, she had developed a nasty habit of ignoring her problems. It took the pain of her girlfriend cheating to make Jordan see that running and isolating herself were her go-to coping mechanisms. As much as the failed relationship had hurt, Jordan now admitted to being part of the problem. Still, not getting to meet Jordan’s family didn’t give Luciana a free pass to screw whatever walked by. When Jordan began to uncover the affairs, the women seemed to come out of the woodwork.
Moving back home had been an opportunity to reconnect with her family, come to terms with her past, and face internalized homophobia. Unfortunately, ingrained habits died hard. Adding to her emotional barrier and workaholic habits, she had begun to venture over to the wild side. Docile proper lady in her hometown, playgirl out of town. The meaningless hookups had only added to her misery.
This time, things had to change. Somehow, Jordan had to pull her shit together because she would soon turn forty. Ah, February the eighteenth. Raising her coffee mug in a toast, she shouted out to the empty room, “And happy birthday to you too, Cybill.”
She thought back on those years watching the Moonlighting TV show and how she had become a hard-core fan and enthralled with Cybill Shepherd. At first, she didn’t know why. Of course, having the same birthday as such a famous celebrity was part of the infatuation. And there was the cool detective work, jobs no other women she knew had. Yet as time went by, she discovered the other reason. She recalled those days when she first became aware that she was different.
On her twelfth birthday, her older brother Gerry gave her vintage magazines with Cybill on the cover. She relished them alone in her bedroom. As time passed, Jordan would imagine kissing Cybill’s lips. The newly discovered emotions were a swirl of pleasure, guilt, and shame. She recalled someone saying that homosexuality was a sin. Classmates called homosexuals “those people” and “sickening freaks” while others teased a few of the less popular kids by calling them lesbos or faggots. Was she a homosexual for wanting to kiss another girl? Why was it so bad?
Months later, she was cleaning Gerry’s room for some spending money and had been curious as to what his friend had hastily thrown under the bed the day before. After running the vacuum, she took a flashlight and looked. Stretching to grab something from the deep middle, she pulled out a couple of magazines. She gasped when flipping the pages. Alongside the motorcycles and cars were scantily dressed women seductively proffered. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart beat faster, and her body felt strange. Something about the pictures excited and at the same time appalled her.
The strange sensations rippling through her body told her to look more, but fear crushed her. She slammed the pages shut, quickly hid the magazines back under the bed, and crept down the hallway in shame. She locked her door, drew the blinds, and lay in bed trying to forget what she had seen. She couldn’t.
She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow. As she lay on the bed crying, a million thoughts raced through her head. One kept tumbling to the forefront. She was one of “those people.” A sinner. Sad and confused, she vowed to bury this secret deep.
Then there was high school. Karen. Lilacs in the spring. Fun. Love. Loss. Even after many years, the hurt lingered in the deepest pit of her soul.
Chapter Two
Jordan squeezed down the grocery aisle, mumbling under her breath, “I can’t believe I’m in the store the day before Thanksgiving, and there are no freakin’ carts or baskets. Damn, what a zoo.” On the hook for a specialty dessert her grandparents loved, she balanced the ingredients in her arm, barely paying attention. Hastily turning, she stopped short of colliding with Betty Jean’s niece.
“Um…sorry. It’s been a busy week,” Jordan mumbled.
A warm smile spread across the woman’s face, giving Jordan enough time to notice her lips and hazel eyes.
“I’m Emmy, and you’re Gwyneth’s daughter Jordan. Looks like you’re about ready to spill your booty.”
Jordan felt a blush creep up her neck and face. She had changed into her favorite comfy sweatpants before leaving the restaurant and now felt the fabric dip below her hips and the bottom of the T-shirt exposing a bit of her midriff. “Yeah. Kind of crazy to be in the store today.”
“Please, share my basket with me.”
“Thanks, but I don’t want to slow you down.”
“I insist, and I’d love the company.”
Jordan smiled and began to place items in the cart when she lost control of one. With each attempt to grab it, the box of tea danced through the air until Emmy caught it in front of her face.
“Good thing that was not a carton of eggs.”
Jordan liked how Emmy’s mouth turned into a wicked grin, and her eyes seemed to twinkle. They strolled along in no particular hurry, and Jordan began to relax with the light chitchat between them. Soon, they were standing in the monster checkout line.
“I’m a dual British and American citizen, but I find Thanksgiving to be a uniquely American holiday that’s both happy and sad.”
Jordan cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, in what way?”
“It’s a day for everyone to enjoy family and friends. I’m driving Betty Jean to our cousins in Leestown tomorrow, which should be loads of fun. But if you think about history, the day essentially celebrates an Anglo-Saxon invasion of a country that already belonged to someone else.”
Jordan felt her jaw drop and glanced around to see if anyone had an adverse reaction to the statement. The town had always been a mix of city transplants, artists, and rednecks. Fortunately, no one seemed to pay attention. That was good because somewhere in the store was the owner of the pickup truck parked in the lot, with a six-foot Confederate flag flying from a makeshift pole.
“True,” she said, looking back into Emmy’s eyes. “For sadness, I was thinking more of the pain-in-the-ass relatives.”
Emmy’s dead-serious face broke into a wry smile, followed by a chuckle. “What do you like about Thanksgiving, Jordan? Tell me the happy part.”
“I donate to the food shelter. The holiday season is a
lways a time to give a little more. As for the restaurant, we close early the day before and don’t reopen until Saturday. For the past three years, I’ve allowed a couple of employees to host a dinner for their friends who don’t have anywhere to go. I pick up the tab. In return, they help distribute the donated food, work the Thanksgiving lunch at the shelter, and of course, clean up the restaurant afterward.”
“That’s generous. And your relatives? I know Betty Jean is close to your mum and aunt.”
Jordan grinned. “I spent most of my time last year at the restaurant, but my mother threatened my life. Mom’s large family gathers for dinner at Grammy and Poppa Lange’s farmhouse. I’m close to my younger brother Carter and his family.” She leaned in closer to Emmy. “Aunt Elizabeth is sweet, but her kids—” Jordan quickly waved her hand through the air. “And my older brother Gerry, somewhere along the line, turned obnoxious. Other relatives live far away, including my father’s small family. That’s about it.”
They reached the cashier, and Jordan was relieved by the distraction. She did not want to discuss her family further; in fact, she’d probably already said too much. As they walked out to the parking lot, her mind and emotions transformed her back into the tongue-twisted recluse, until a full panic consumed her at Emmy’s car. Emmy was making her goodbyes, but Jordan was frozen. Say something.
“Ah…I’ll see you around. The restaurant gets crazy during the holidays, but please, stop by. We can chat longer. You’re in town for a while, right?”
“Yes. I’m visiting for several months, and I’d love to.”
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