The Closer You Get (Fidelity #1)

by Carter Ashby

  She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the crowd, though she didn’t return to the group she’d been sitting with. Instead, she led him to a large tree root at the edge of the congregation. He sat next to her. There was a slight rustle in the crowd as her family—Rye assumed—passed her purse and song book back to her.

  “If you’ll all turn with me to Ephesians chapter four, starting in verse twenty-two,” the preacher said, “we’ll be reading from there in a moment. First of all, I want to tell you all what a fine thing it is to see you gathered here, worshiping under God’s cathedral.” The preacher raised his arms to the sky. “Pray with me, please.”

  There were murmurings of amens and other unintelligible comments among the people. Rye looked around him, still unsure why he’d wandered this direction or why he’d stayed. A sharp elbow jabbed him in the ribs. He turned to see Cora giving him an angry look before closing her eyes and folding her hands.

  Right. Prayer. He was supposed to close his eyes for that. Rye followed suit and even said ‘amen’ at the end. Then he smiled proudly at Cora, who was still glaring at him. As the preacher began his sermon on ‘Spring Cleaning for the Soul,’ Cora leaned into him. “You stink of whiskey and you look like you slept in the back of a truck.”

  He nodded. “Spot on, boss.”

  “Were you rolling around in the mud?” She gestured to his jeans that had a fair bit of dried mud on them.

  “Playing on the river bank with a girl,” he said.

  Her face turned red, and she looked away. Rye gulped down a pang of regret though he wasn’t sure where it had come from. He leaned down and lowered his whisper. “It was just a little fun, that’s all.”

  Her eyes, when she turned to him, were pure vitriol. Rye had never felt so judged before in his life. This time, he was the one to look away.

  “‘That ye put off concerning the former conversation the old man, which is corrupt according to the deceitful lusts; And be renewed in the spirit of your mind; And that ye put on the new man, which after God is created in righteousness and true holiness,’” the preacher read from his Bible.

  “Why are you here?” Cora whispered.

  Rye shrugged. “Wanted to hear the singing.”

  He couldn’t look at her, not after those eyes she’d given him. Somehow, in that one look, she’d punched a hole in the dam he’d built around his conscience and feelings of guilt were beginning to trickle from it.

  “Seriously?” she asked.

  He shrugged again. “Maybe I got the Holy Spirit, and it led me here so’s I could be cleansed of my sins.”

  She was silent for a moment before saying, “I suggest you disappear at the first possible moment, or they’re gonna try and baptize you.”

  He turned and frowned. “You serious?”

  She nodded, dead serious.

  “Against my will?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said. “They’s a lot of strong fellas here. They’ll haul your hungover ass down to the river and throw you in, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

  “Nuh-uh,” he said. She had to be kidding. But then, this woman didn’t strike him as much of a kidder.

  “Yup. And if you don’t stop your sinful ways, they’ll come to your house and lay hands on you…try and cast out the demons.”

  He grinned. “You’re shitting me.”

  She shook her head, still keeping a straight face. “Stay if you want. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Purge yourselves of these evil ways!” the preacher boomed. “Carve out the cancer of sin and live in purity for the Lord. Don’t let the vile lusts of the world corrupt your soul!”

  Rye listened, transfixed. The dude was charismatic. His grand, mystical presence and passionate verbosity cast a spell over his listeners.

  Except Cora, who was fidgeting, trying to get comfortable on the tree root. After a while, her fidgeting snagged Rye’s attention, and he turned to study her. Definitely not hot. But the smattering of freckles was cute. She had a sweet curve to her jaw. Her bottom lip was a little fuller than the top…good for biting, Rye thought with a smile.

  She turned sharply to him. “What?” she hissed.

  “Nothing, boss.” Just wondering what you look like naked, is all.

  She glared at him.

  The preacher’s tone changed, and the movement within the crowd indicated that the sermon was almost over. With an invitation to anyone wanting prayers, the preacher backed away and was replaced by the man who had been leading the singing earlier. The congregation stood to their feet and began singing.

  Rye looked down at Cora, watching her intently gaze into her songbook and sing along. He was too tall. There was too much distance for him to hear her singing. He wondered if she had a good voice.

  Several people filed forward and knelt in front of the congregation while the preacher prayed over them. With a final prayer, the service ended. Rye was supposed to flee, at this point. But there was Cora with the freckles and the dimples and the clearly repressed sexuality. His feet simply wouldn’t obey his head when it told them to walk away. Even after she turned and looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Why are you still here? Go!”

  “Wish you’d smile again,” he muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He didn’t repeat himself. He hadn’t meant for the words to come out loud. What he asked instead was worse. “Why didn’t you wanna come fishing last night?”

  For a moment, surprise and confusion clouded her eyes. She gave her head a little shake and said, “I believe I’ve answered that question. I prefer to keep my work life and social life separate.”

  “In a town this size? Is that realistic?”

  “It’s worked so far.”

  “You were friends with Sam.”

  “Sam didn’t flippantly screw every interested party who came his way.”

  It wasn’t a literal punch to the gut, but Rye fell back a step anyway. “I’m just…” What? Lonely? Desperate? How was he supposed to finish that sentence?

  “Listen, you should go,” she said. “The preacher’s heading this way.”

  He blew out a breath, not at all sure of where he was standing. “If that’s the only thing you don’t like about me, we could still be friends. Nothing inappropriate about fishing together.”

  “It sounds to me like we have very different definitions of fishing, and I have absolutely no desire to roll around on the river bank with you, Rye.”

  That one hurt even worse. He shrugged, hoping the hurt didn’t show in his eyes. “Doesn’t have to be the river bank. We can roll around anywhere you want.”

  Cora drew herself up tall, rolling her shoulders back. “Your employment history reads a lot like a rap sheet. Are you sure you want to add ‘sexually harassing your boss’ to the list of misdeeds?”

  That was enough for him. The walls came right back up. He plugged the hole in that dam, no longer interested in entertaining someone else’s ideas of right and wrong. “Fuck it. Plenty of fish in the sea. Sorry for bothering you, Mrs. McKay.” He turned on his heel and left.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAM WAS GONE. He’d spent a month training Rye as he’d promised, then he left. As he’d said he would. Cora hadn’t really believed it until the next day when he truly didn’t report into work. A week later he sent her a postcard from the Dominican Republic.

  She sat at her desk staring at the card. He’d been with the company since its inception over thirty years ago. Beyond that, he’d been her friend and mentor. She’d leaned on him heavily over the past few years, especially when her father had finally passed.

  Cora sighed, tucked the postcard into her purse, and went to the Friday afternoon staff meeting. Nobody liked these, but she tried to keep them under fifteen minutes. She didn’t micromanage anyone, which they all appreciated, but she needed to know where everyone was spending their time and what the statuses of their projects were.

  Daniel Crouch had a big smile on his face, so she as
ked him to start. “Richard Pinkerton wants us to design and build his country club!” He beamed with pride.

  The Pinkerton family practically owned Fidelity. On one hand, a country club in this area seemed a ridiculous extravagance, yet another way to encourage class division in Fidelity and the surrounding rural towns. On the other hand, the project would be excellent for business, and on that point, Cora’s heart sped up.

  Then Daniel frowned and glanced at Rye. “Mr. Negative doesn’t want to do it.”

  Cora tried not to smile. The two of them had immediately fallen into a sort of nagging husband and wife relationship. It was evident in their words and conversations, but also their postures. There was Daniel, sitting upright with his cup of tea, his face and voice expressive. And there was Rye, slouched in his chair, his legs sprawled in front of him, looking constantly annoyed.

  Rye sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not the project; it’s the location. I don’t want to do it where he wants it done. There're two other sites that would work and aren’t located in a fucking swamp.”

  “It’s not a swamp! You’re always exaggerating,” Daniel whined.

  “Might as well be a swamp,” Rye muttered.

  “It’s soft clay. You said it could be done.”

  “It can. I just don’t want to do it when there’s better locations.”

  Daniel was their main designer and had a primarily artistic bent. Sam had always been the structural guy, inserting math and science into Daniel’s work to keep it from crumbling to the ground in five years. This was Rye’s job now. “Okay,” Cora said, “Rye, can you build it or can’t you?”

  He deflated some. “I can.”

  “Great. You two work it out then. And make Mr. Pinkerton happy. That’s a huge project. What else do we have?”

  Her project managers listed off their accomplishments of last week and their chores for the next one. She assigned Ted, one of the managers, to look into a remodel request at the university extension. “And Rye, the county wants to contract you to help with an overpass they’re building. Chrissy will set that appointment up for you.” Chrissy was their office manager and receptionist. She smiled and jotted it down. When Chrissy retired someday, they’d likely have to hire three people to replace her.

  Cora thanked everyone, told them they were doing a good job, and ended the meeting. She hurried to her office and gathered her things. Adam was waiting for her in the lobby, leaning against the wall and fidgeting with his keys. He always looked so handsome in his suit with his hair all slicked back. Almost like a grown-up. Though when you’ve played in forts and swam naked in creeks with someone, they always sort of looked like a kid.

  “You ready?” he asked.

  “Definitely.”

  “Let’s do this.”

  She took his hand, and they started toward the door.

  “Hey, boss!”

  Cora turned to find Rye jogging toward her. She wished he would call her Mrs. McKay like everyone else. Ever since the crazy church fiasco, he’d been the picture of professionalism, except for calling her ‘boss’ all the time. She’d seen him around town, but he would only acknowledge her with a nod and a brief smile. At Darcy’s, he played pool with the new friends he’d made, or he tried to pick up women, but he never approached Cora. He was behaving professionally for sure, but that did little to soothe the curiosity he’d ignited in her. A curiosity that had only grown over the past few weeks.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Uh, do you have any way I can get in touch with Sam?” he asked.

  “He’s gone completely incommunicado. Is there a problem?”

  “No, not really. I just wanted to bounce some ideas off of him.”

  “Bounce them off of me. Sam doesn’t want to talk about construction on his vacation.”

  He swallowed and for some reason looked scared. “Uh, that’s okay. It wasn’t work related.”

  Cora stood there waiting for him to say something else. “Okay,” she said at last. “Is there anything else you need?”

  “Um. No.”

  Still he didn’t leave. Finally he said, “I think I’ll go to Darcy’s after work.”

  “They’re running out of women, Rye,” she said before she could think to stop herself.

  His expression went cold again. “Not hardly. There’s always more women.” He turned on his heel and left.

  Cora stared after him, regretting the way she’d triggered his defense mechanism. But then, wasn’t it for the best? She could never handle a man like him, and even if she could, it was always a bad idea to sleep with one’s employees.

  Adam said, “Maybe he has a crush on you.”

  Cora laughed. “I’m sure. Let’s go get my hair cut.”

  Adam drove them to Betsy’s beauty salon. Betsy Goodnight had opened it five years ago when she was fresh out of beauty school. All they’d had in Fidelity before she came along was a little barber shop where the barber only offered one hair style. Betsy was full of bounce and energy. She was two years younger than Cora and Adam, very cute, and also very adept at her work. Her shop had three chairs.

  Betsy was with a customer, but Karen Seabaugh’s chair was empty.

  Betsy turned, her copper curls bouncing. “Oh hi, Cora! Hi, Adam. Have a seat.” She was wrapping strands of her customer’s hair in bits of foil for highlighting. “Actually,” she said, turning, “I’m running a little behind. Karen had a cancelation if you want to go over there.”

  Cora turned her gaze to Karen, who gave her a tight-lipped smile. Not good. Cora didn’t like Karen and was certain Karen didn’t like her. Still, it was just a hair cut. She stood and plopped down in Karen’s chair.

  “Just a trim today?” Karen asked.

  “Actually, I want a change. I want to go short. But feminine. Not pixie short, but maybe jaw length with some layers. I don’t really know; I just want it to be fun and cute.”

  “And practical, I’m sure,” Karen said.

  “Well—”

  “We’ll fix you right up. I guess you want it out of your way for work and all.”

  “No, actually, I’m just wanting a bit of a change—”

  “Your sisters with all their fancy hairdos, changing colors all the time. Not sturdy little Cora. Never went in for those kinds of frills.”

  Cora jumped to her feet and faced Karen. “I think I’ll wait for Betsy.”

  Karen arched a brow. “Are you questioning my skills?”

  “No. I just don’t think you’re hearing what I want. I’ll wait for Betsy.” She pivoted on her heel and seated herself back next to Adam. Betsy shot her a quick grin. Adam put his arm around her shoulders.

  “Way to go,” he whispered in her ear.

  She nodded proudly. She was going to stand up for herself and shape her own image. “I’ve got tea at Mother’s Sunday with the WICS.”

  “Ah, yes. The Women In Christian Service. They get together for tea on Sundays and talk about all the problems in the world. Mail a few get well cards. Say a prayer and call it a day.”

  “Shove it. I’ve got tea Sunday, and I want to look different. Not gaudy and pretentious. Just confident. I don’t want to be patronized anymore.”

  “I applaud this new effort, Cora. I’m proud of you. It’s beyond me why you bother going to these things, but at least you can take back your dignity.”

  She frowned at him. “You make it sound as though I’ve been a complete doormat.”

  Adam just arched a brow.

  She slumped back in her seat.

  When Betsy was finally free, she sat and told her what she wanted. After Betsy finished and turned her to the mirror, Cora nearly cried. She looked somehow younger and at the same time more mature. She swung her hair side-to-side and felt her hair bounce against her cheeks. The air on the back of her now-bare neck felt invigorating. She glanced at Adam’s reflection, and he gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Let’s go shopping,” he said.

  Next, it was over to the big
mall in Fayetteville. She wouldn’t have been able to do this without Adam. She hadn’t bought a dress in years and years. She wouldn’t even know what to look for. But after they walked out of the mall with their arms full of shopping bags, Cora had enough dresses to last her a lifetime. Adam talked her into changing in the backseat while he stood guard. She slipped on a yellow, strapless sheath that stopped a few inches above her knees. She found the shoes she’d gotten to match and stepped out of the car.

  Adam’s eyes went wide. “You look…you look…”

  She smiled. “I feel naked.”

  He reached out and touched the curve of her neck. She batted his hand away and giggled. “Stop it, Adam, you’re making me all tingly.”

  He laughed then. “You need some jewelry.” Then he gasped and grinned. “Let’s go get your ears pierced. Come on.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her back toward the mall entrance. She stumbled after him, not at all used to even a two inch heel.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I can grow my hair out and change into jeans. Piercing my ears is sort of permanent.”

  “So what? You don’t want to wear earrings on a given day, you don’t have to. No big deal. But you should at least have the option.”

  Before she knew it, she was sitting in a chair at the Piercing Pagoda. Adam made all the decisions for her, including which studs to get, and then she was holding her breath as her ear lobes were each punctured.

  On their way out of the mall, Adam pulled her into a jewelry shop and bought her a necklace. He took a little time picking it out, but when he did, it was perfect. Cora wore it out and never wanted to take it off.

  “Now where do we go for dinner?” Adam asked once they were back in the car.

  “You don’t have to have dinner with me,” she said. “I know you’re probably in a hurry to get back to Cash.”

  Adam blushed a little. “I do want to see him. But I told him I’d have drinks with him later this evening. So you and I should go some place nice since you’re dressed for it.”

  They found a lovely little Italian place that had red carpet and white tablecloths. As fancy as they were going to get in Arkansas. They ordered and then Cora watched Adam consciously ignore his cell phone that had emitted a tone. She smiled. “Go ahead and check it.”