“Yes, but I didn’t want him tangled up in my business. And he swore he wouldn’t interfere if I didn’t ask, which I didn’t.” A fresh wave of anger pours through me. I need my friends to understand why what he did was wrong. “He thinks he has to rescue me when I can damn well rescue myself!”
“And you broke up over it,” Harper says. “It’s a shame you can’t just be together without being engaged. Do you think you could maybe take a step back, regroup, and go back to the way it was before the, uh, unwanted proposal?”
“No,” I say. “Because he doesn’t see that what he did was wrong, so that means he’ll keep doing it. Jumping in to fix my life without my asking for help.” My voice cracks, and I take a sip of Audrey’s wine since mine is gone. She rubs my back sympathetically.
“Oh, Syd,” Harper says.
“I don’t need a man to make my life work,” I say. “I can do it on my own.”
“She cried earlier,” Jenna says.
My eyes get hot. I don’t cry easily. My friends know it.
“I wish I could be there right now,” Harper says. “I feel like you need a big group hug.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I will be fine. You just enjoy your honeymoon. We’ll get together when you get back.”
Her life sounds charmed compared to mine. And I know she works hard, but I work hard too, and I feel like I’m nowhere near where I thought I’d be by my age. I was supposed to have a cool apartment, a serious boyfriend, and a savings account big enough to let me go out with my friends without worrying about paying for a night out.
I thank her, and we all say our goodbyes.
Audrey turns to me. “Would it help if he apologized?”
“He won’t,” I say. “He doesn’t think he did anything wrong.”
They’re quiet for a moment.
I pour myself another glass of wine. “Enough about me. What’s going on in your love lives?”
“I slept with the delivery guy this afternoon,” Jenna says, her green eyes sparkling.
“Jenna!” Audrey and I exclaim in near unison.
“The delivery guy?” I ask, biting into a rich chocolate brownie.
Jenna wiggles her fingers in the air, smiling. “It’s been building for a while now, flirting, long gazes, you know. His name is Trey, and that’s all I know about him.”
“Now what?” Audrey asks. “Are you going to keep seeing him?”
“Is this going to be a daily hookup?” I ask. “Deliver the flour, sugar, and eggs, and get in me, Trey!”
Jenna laughs. “No, I told him it was a onetime thing. We agreed up front. You know I don’t want anything serious.”
“Why not?” Audrey asks. “I just don’t get it. Don’t you ever think about the future, getting married, settling down?”
“After my parents’ nasty divorce?” Jenna asks. “The last thing I want is to be married.”
“Well, I want that,” Audrey says, staring at the table. “Someday.”
“You’ve been so cool toward Drew,” I say. “Usually you always give him a warm hello at the bar. What’s up with that?”
Audrey blushes. “I say hello.”
I shake my head. “Not like you used to. Come on, it’s us.”
She smiles tightly. “Absolutely nothing happened.” She sighs. “Jenna, you should try not to let your parents’ divorce affect your choices. You deserve to be happy.”
Jenna gives her a deadpan stare. “It was a nightmare. A drawn-out battle with my sister and me caught in the middle. Hard pass.”
“I need to meet a man,” Audrey says.
Jenna and I exchange a wide-eyed look of surprise. “Go, Audrey!” I say, socking her on the shoulder.
“Get it, girl,” Jenna says. “But you’re going to have to branch out beyond Summerdale. Slim pickings. Ooh, check out this new app.” She taps and shows her the screen.
Audrey pushes it away. “I’m not looking for a hookup. I’d like someone looking for a serious relationship. A guy who reads preferably.”
That’s definitely not Drew. He never liked to read growing up.
“Ooh, there’s Hot Guys Who Read,” Jenna says, showing Audrey her phone screen again. “It’s just a social media account, but I bet some of them are single. And these pictures are all from New York City.”
Audrey looks to me. “Let me know if a guy comes into The Horseman Inn that looks like a literary type. Otherwise, I’m going to try eLoveMatch.”
We both stare at her. For so long, she was opposed to online dating. That app is for people serious about a relationship. She’s finally moving on from Drew, her lifelong crush. It was love at first sight for her when she was the tender age of six. He was eleven and obsessed with sports, barely noticing my friends. I thought she’d grow out of it, but she’s always only had eyes for him. Once he signed up for the army, Audrey asked to write him when he was away. I think they became friends of a sort, email pen pals more like. In any case, when he came home, they were friends. Sure, she dated a bit in high school and college, but never for long. No one could ever live up to Drew.
“I’ll do it with you,” I tell her.
Audrey’s brows knit over concerned eyes. “It’s too soon for you.”
“That’s okay,” I say, nudging her shoulder. “I figure it’ll take you a while to actually follow through.”
“Busted!” Jenna says.
We laugh, even Audrey. “I’m serious this time,” she says. “I’m going for it. It’s time.”
For some reason that makes us laugh even harder. Audrey huffs and tosses cookie pieces at us.
I grab the cookie from where it landed on my shirt and pop it in my mouth. “No wasting cookie.”
Audrey gets serious. “I’m still hopeful for you, Syd. If he apolog—”
“Nope,” I say.
“Grovel,” Jenna says. “If he grovels at your feet.”
I point at Jenna. “Except he never will. Wyatt Winters is all knowing, all powerful, always one hundred percent right.”
Except this time I’m one hundred percent right.
20
Sydney
Welp, it’s been two weeks, and I calmed down enough to spend some time thinking about the future of The Horseman Inn, and Wyatt’s idea of a farm-to-table angle is something I’d like to do. What could be better than having farm-fresh produce and meat, along with freshly caught fish? This area is plentiful with the ocean only an hour drive away and many local farms. I called around, looking for some suppliers, and got a lot of good leads. Only problem is when I mentioned the idea to our longtime chef, George, he took offense. He’s not a “frou-frou fancy chef” he declared. He’s a comfort chef. And then he informed me if I went through with it, he’d quit.
Now George is a family friend, in his sixties, and has been with The Horseman Inn since my dad took it over from my grandfather. Obviously I don’t want to lose him, but this is a business, and sometimes you have to make hard business decisions. I didn’t fire him, but I’m meeting a potential chef at a coffee shop near the Culinary Institute of America, an hour’s drive away in Hyde Park, New York. Darren’s graduating this spring, which means he’s eager for work and full of new ideas. We already spoke over the phone, and he sounds like a great fit. He even grew up not far from here, so it would be like coming home. I’ve kept it under wraps, but if it works out, it’ll give George plenty of time to find a new job. It’s the end of February now, and Darren wouldn’t start until May.
I get everything ready for Friday trivia night, planning to leave it in the hands of our bartender Betsy before I leave for my chef interview. I’m excited about taking this step for The Horseman Inn. It’s the first thing I’ve done that wasn’t just treading water, desperately trying to keep the place afloat.
“Sydney,” a deep baritone voice says urgently.
My head whips toward Wyatt, and I step out from behind the bar. “What’s wrong?” His dark hair is disheveled, his eyes wild.
“She ran away. I can
’t find her anywhere.”
I rush over to him. “Who? Kayla?”
“No, not Kayla! Snowball!” He shoves a hand in his hair. “With the construction, there’s an open wall. The crew stapled plastic sheets over it, but there must’ve been a gap. She got out, and I’ve searched the whole property. It’ll be dark soon, and she’s so little she just blends in with the hills and trees. Can you help me look for her?”
He came to me for help. The man who fixes everyone else’s problems needs me. Oh shit. I’m supposed to leave in a few minutes to interview Darren. He told me he has several interviews lined up. If I miss it, someone else might snatch him up. Darren worked for a big-name chef before deciding to take the plunge and go for formal training at the Culinary Institute. In other words, he’s a catch. On the other hand, Wyatt needs me. Snowball needs me. The poor thing is stuck somewhere in the cold of winter in unfamiliar terrain. She might not survive the night.
“Just give me a minute.”
He surprises me, grabbing me in a quick hug. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” I quickly let Betsy know what’s going on and give her instructions for trivia night.
I meet up with him. “Let’s go.”
He heads for the door, his long legs eating up the space. I have to hurry to keep up with him.
Once we’re in his car, I ask, “Is Kayla looking for her too?”
“No, she’s in the city, visiting our sister. I didn’t even notice Snowball was gone for more than an hour. She could be anywhere. She could be eaten by one of those coyotes howling away in the woods!”
If his little dog is in the woods, it’s a very real possibility she could’ve been taken by a coyote. They hunt in packs and have gotten more comfortable with suburbia, hunting in the daytime as well as night.
“We’ll find her,” I say.
His jaw is tight, his eyes focused on the road as he speeds back to his house.
“Take it slow when we get close to the house in case she’s out there and you don’t see her at first.”
He slows down. “Right. You’re right. Can you imagine if I ran her over after trying to rescue her?” His voice is shaky. “She’s just so little and helpless. She doesn’t know anything about the country. She’s used to one city block.”
The sun’s starting to set, and I estimate we’ve got a half hour to find her before it’s dark. “Will she come if you call her?”
“She does. She always does. She must be far away or stuck somewhere. For all I know, she fell down a well. Anything could’ve happened.”
“It’s okay. We’ll find her.”
He drives the rest of the way in grim silence. I text a message to Darren, cancelling on him and apologizing for the last minute. He texts back: ok. That’s it. Just ok.
Me: I’ll be in touch.
Darren: ok.
Not much of a communicator by text, but I didn’t want to call when Wyatt’s so upset and driving way too fast.
He abruptly hits the brakes as he turns into his driveway, the car fishtailing for a moment on the freshly falling snow, and slowly drives up the rest of the way. We had a warm spell this past week, and the snow had mostly melted, but it’s snowing again, the wind whipping it around.
“Do you have any meat?” I ask. “That might draw her out.”
“I was using her biscuits, but that’s a good idea. I have some deli meat. Roast beef. She’s always sniffing around for scraps of that.” His eyes water for a moment, and then he parks and darts out of the car.
I follow him into the house. It’s weird being here now two weeks after our breakup. The living room floor is finished now. I get a flashback to last time—the bouquet of roses, his smile as he greeted me at the door. No, don’t go there.
I join him in the kitchen. “Microwave the meat for a bit so the scent carries more.”
“Good idea.” He throws a pile of roast beef into the microwave and stands, hands on hips, waiting for it to finish. The microwave dings, and he grabs the meat, giving me half before leading the way toward the back of the house. “This is where they’re building the room out to include a powder room. I thought she wandered out to the backyard. Look how much space she could’ve gotten lost in.”
There’s tons of land, rolling hills edged by thick forest.
“Did you see any paw prints?” I ask.
“No. The falling snow must’ve covered them.” He leads the way out the front door. “We’ll use the flashlights on our phones if it gets dark. Just keep calling her name.” He looks around as soon as he gets outside. “Snowball, come!”
Silence.
“Does she have a name tag on her collar?” I’m hoping if someone finds her, they can get her back to Wyatt.
“Yes, but it has my old number in the city on it. Shit.” He heads around toward the back of the house, waving the roast beef in the air and calling her name.
If I were a short city dog facing cold and unfamiliar terrain, where would I go? She’s used to short walks through the woods with Kayla. But alone? I think she’d seek shelter close by. I walk the perimeter around the house, calling her name, and then go to the lighthouse structure. There’s a door, but it’s locked. I don’t think she could’ve squeezed under it.
I crouch on the ground, looking at the world from her size. Maybe under a bush. I look all around his yard while Wyatt tromps through the woods, yelling her name. I start calling her too, adding a whistle in case that carries better. I glance toward the busy road at the end of his long driveway and pray she didn’t go in that direction. I’m sure she’d be run over by a car. It would be easy for a driver not to see her. That’s a last resort place to look. Because if she’s run over, there’s nothing we can do for her anyway. I don’t think a dog that small would survive it.
“Snowball!” I call. “Snowball, come!” I slap my knee and then add a whistle.
I search until it’s dark, and then stop and sit on Wyatt’s front porch, turning on the flashlight on my phone. It’s below freezing, and I’m getting really cold. I don’t think she’ll survive the night. I can hear Wyatt’s increasingly desperate calls from the back of the house. And then I hear something else, a snuffling sound. An animal is nearby, probably interested in the hunk of roast beef I’m holding. It could be any number of creatures—raccoon, mole, even a coyote.
I get off the porch and aim my light under the porch. There’s a lattice wood barrier, making it hard to see. “Snowball, is that you?” I can’t see much but dirt. I walk around, looking for any gaps where a dog might’ve gotten through. And then I find it, behind a hedge on the side of the porch, there’s a small gap in the lattice wood. I get down on my stomach and aim my flashlight. Two sets of eyes shine back at me. “Snowball! What are you doing under there? Who’s your friend?” Snowball is curled up with a skinny pit bull. “Who wants meat?”
I text Wyatt that I found her. I can’t fit in the small space, but I’m hoping to coax them out. I roll up a piece of roast beef and stick it through the gap as far as my arm will go. I tense in case the pit bull is a biter, ready to yank my arm back, but it’s Snowball who trots over. I pull back, coaxing her closer. “That’s right, come get the yummy roast beef.”
As soon as she’s in reach, I grab her, pulling her out and letting her bite a piece of roast beef off. I toss the rest in for her friend.
“Oh my God, you found her.” Wyatt crouches down next to us and takes Snowball. “You scared the crap out of me,” he scolds her. “Stupid move. Don’t ever do that again.”
“There’s another dog under your porch. I think it’s a stray.”
He looks. “No collar. He’s seen better days. You think he’s dangerous?”
“Snowball didn’t think so. She was curled up against him.”
“How long do you think he was under there?”
“No idea.”
He breaks off roast beef and tosses a trail of meat towards the opening. “Come on, guy. Follow the trail.”
“How’re you going
to get him inside without a collar?”
“He’ll either follow me or go back where he came from.”
The dog shuffles forward on his belly and gingerly takes a piece of meat.
“Look how slow he eats,” I whisper.
“He’s cautious. Probably came from a rough situation.” He waits patiently, Snowball tucked into his jacket, coaxing the stray dog to take more meat. As soon as he does, Wyatt tosses a piece just outside the opening.
“Come on, Rex, little further,” he coaxes.
“Rex?”
“He looks like a Rex, doesn’t he?”
He’s already named him. That’s Wyatt. Taking care of everyone.
Rex finally ventures out and takes the meat.
I stifle a cheer in case it scares him away.
“Rex, come,” Wyatt orders and heads for the front door. I follow him, but Rex doesn’t.
We get inside, and Wyatt keeps the door open, waving the meat at Rex. “Meat for you. Come.”
Rex looks undecided, and then Snowball barks, and it’s decided. Rex trots inside and gobbles up another slice of roast beef. I quickly shut the door behind him.
Wyatt turns to me. “Syd, thank you.”
“I take care of those I love,” I say, using his words to me from before.
He sets Snowball down, tosses the rest of the meat to the dogs, and kisses me.
It’s like coming home again.
21
Wyatt
That night, Sydney and I have a “heart-to-heart” talk. Her words. I solemnly vow not to take over and solve her problems for her. And she solemnly vows to ask for help when she needs it. This is a serious conversation we have behind closed doors in my room, which I like because I know what comes next—makeup sex.
We’re sitting side by side on the mattress, pressed up close together, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, holding hands. I squeeze her hand. “We good now?”
She gives me a long hard look. “As long as you understand what you did wrong going behind my back and fixing stuff.”
Fetching: A Frenemies to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Unleashed Romance, Book 1) Page 18
