Love Me Always: A Romance Anthology

by Peyton Banks

  She sat back in her chair and exhaled a deep breath. Her gaze skimmed the stack of mortgage and utility bills next to her keyboard, and she clenched her jaw, anxiety and stress wrecking her mind. She bolted out of the home office and back outside and looked toward the peach tree, where the baskets were now filled to the brim with peaches that had finally fallen from the branches above, squished and half-eaten. In that moment, her heart felt exactly the same.

  Rahim stared intently at his computer screen, where a thin cursor blinked mockingly at him. Gritting his teeth, he ran his frustrated fingers over his dark hair. His next book’s deadline loomed over him like a menacing shadow, ready to eclipse his creativity the more he dwelled on how much further he had to go. With only three chapters finished and four days left to turn in his manuscript to the editor, he’d already set himself up for defeat. Time had seemed to flow like water as he spent several weeks plotting and planning this thriller story down to the finest detail. While he was quite proud of his researching efforts, the project made him anxious, as he knew the expectations of his fans would be higher than with the last book. There was no chance he’d be able to reschedule his editing date, as his one and only trusted editor was booked solid until next year. He had to get this done in four days, no matter what.

  Sighing, Rahim sat back in his executive chair and rubbed his temples. This isn’t working. Normally, his mind was a melting pot of ideas, and he could churn out pages faster than a printer. But this wasn’t one of those days. His case of writer’s block had never been this bad. Too many things were on his mind—most recently, his bad breakup three months before. He wasn’t a good candidate for women. Too much time spent writing books meant less time to enjoy in another person’s company. There wasn’t a time he didn’t stop thinking about his next book—how he could tweak a plot or how the hero could indulge in the same mixed drink that he happened to like. He’d loved Joline, his ex. She was the first woman he’d poured out his heart to. But she hadn’t been on board with his worth ethic and had decided to call it quits.

  Loneliness was his everyday life. His heart ached sometimes, but when he became a published author, he’d realized that the profession was often a lonely one. No distractions. No excuses, he’d always tell himself. He was without either, yet it seemed harder than ever to concentrate.

  He’d thought that moving out of Charleston to a smaller, rural town like Santee would make a difference. He’d start over with this new life, doing what he always loved to do. But while he had lived in this house for a few weeks, and though he had over eleven successful books published in his career, he still wasn’t satisfied. There were more stories to tell. He had more work to do. His career was an endless hamster wheel of creativity that he was reluctant to get off, and this house was his sanctuary. Nothing else mattered. Everything outside of the house was pain. He refused to relive his past.

  He got up from his computer and paced his upstairs bedroom, trying to clear his mind. He stood in front of the room’s large window, which overlooked one of the neighbor’s yards. The beautiful girl next door was always out in her yard, tending to her garden. But Rahim knew better than to let a pretty face distract him again. Besides, he was certain she wasn’t single. Pretty women like her never were. Though he’d never seen a man over there, that didn’t mean anything these days.

  His eyes zeroed in on the woman, who was standing on a steel ladder, plucking peaches from a branch. He couldn’t help but smile. Bronze skin, brown eyes, an addicting smile, and a fit-and-toned killer body that would make a fitness guru green with envy. She had the whole package, and best of all, she was a hardworking woman. That type always intrigued him. After all, his own mother was the hardest-working woman he’d ever known.

  He relaxed his mind while he continued watching the girl next door climb up the ladder again to pick more peaches from the highest branches. It looked like she would have plenty of peach dishes to make with that giant harvest. So why does she look so unhappy? Rahim had never had a green thumb. He’d just hired a lawn service to take care of his property instead of trying to do it himself.

  He spotted one large branch hanging over on his side of the fence, so full of ready-to-pick peaches that it nearly touched the ground. He wondered how green a thumb she really had. How juicy were her peaches? He smirked at the double entendre, a nagging reminder of just how much he missed being in a relationship. Those peaches were on his side of the fence, so technically, they would be his for the taking, right?

  The woman had finished picking all of the ripe peaches within her reach. She carefully climbed down her ladder and disappeared behind the fence. She didn’t seem to notice the branch on his side. Or perhaps she did but realized it wasn’t hers.

  Rahim grinned. Maybe a trip outside wouldn’t be so bad. He’d never had a freshly picked peach before—not since he was a boy, when he’d visited his grandfather’s house in Georgetown. There, he’d enjoyed picking not just peaches but pecans, figs, and plums too.

  The temptation was too great. Leaving his bedroom, Rahim headed downstairs and went outside through the kitchen’s side door, grabbing a small step stool along the way. The bright afternoon sun stung his eyes, and the humid air drew small beads of sweat along his forearms and brow. He approached the hanging branch by the fence. He listened for sounds on the other side of the fence and waited to see if that woman would come back, but all was quiet, and she seemed to be gone for good. He set up the step stool against the fence and carefully climbed up to reach the hanging branch. He twisted off a peach and held it. The fruit was heavy, softball sized, and perfectly spotless. He widened his eyes and beamed. Wow… Her thumb was greener than his golf-course-style lawn. He plucked the remaining bunches of peaches from the branch and carried them awkwardly in his arms.

  The fence jostled, as did the ladder next to it. The woman’s head appeared over the fence, and she looked up at the branches overhead. Her face was taut and stony as though she was having a very bad day. But beneath that negative expression, he could see sheer beauty. He couldn’t help but smile.

  She seemed oblivious to him as her gaze remained focused above. She let out a frustrated growl and was proceeding to climb back down the ladder when her gaze suddenly drifted his way. Her eyebrows shot up. She started, nearly falling backward from the ladder, but immediately caught herself.

  He flinched, instinctively ready to drop his armful of peaches and run to her rescue. “Hey, easy there. You all right?” he asked, impressed by her quick reflexes.

  “Yeah.” A small crease formed on her brow. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Rahim Hunter, your neighbor.” He smiled cheekily. “And you are…?”

  She hesitated. “Renee Foster.”

  Renee. Such a fitting name for a gorgeous woman. He etched the name in his mind and added a big reminder that she was off-limits. There would be no telling if and when her significant other would come around to take her away. And he wanted to stop any potential problem before it started. “I would come up and shake your hand, but my arms are kinda full right now.”

  “I see that.” She scowled. “You have a peach tree too?”

  “Nah. I picked them off that branch. There were so many peaches it was practically touching the ground.”

  “Any of them good?”

  His smile widened. “Good? These are the most perfect peaches I’ve ever picked.” He showed her one of them. “Flawless and, I’d imagine, sweet and juicy.”

  “You realize you picked those off my tree, right?”

  “Yeah, well, technically, the branch was hanging over on my property, so…”

  “But they’re growing from my tree, so they are technically mine.” She gave him a hardened stare.

  His throat tightened. He could sense the edge in her tone. This was not the way he wanted his first introduction to go. Maybe I should’ve stayed inside after all. “Are you saying you’re not going to share some of your peaches with me? I mean, this is one little branch. You have the whole r
est of the tree full of peaches!”

  “Look, I worked hard to grow this tree. I waited too damn long to finally have some fresh peaches this year. Those are rightfully mine.”

  He frowned. Those words echoed what his last girlfriend of three years had said. He’d spoiled her like a queen, cooked for her, bought her the nicest clothes, and loved her like no one else. And all that generosity had gotten him was heartbreak and a bitter, self-centered woman.

  “Are you serious right now? You’re really not going to share?”

  “Dead serious. You take my fruit, that’s theft. I can report you to the authorities, you know.”

  He blinked several times. Of all the… “Fine. Take your damn peaches.” He spun on his heel and stormed to the sidewalk. He dropped the peaches on her property, some of them splattering and blemishing on impact from the rough asphalt. Then he marched back into his house and slammed the door, vowing to never go outside again.

  2

  Rahim Hunter. That name stuck in Renee’s mind like molasses—his smooth caramel face and dark-brown eyes even more so. But she knew better than to trust the pretty boys. They were nothing but trouble, stealing hearts and now, apparently, stealing peaches. The nerve of him! She’d worked too hard to have him come swooping in, reaping the rewards. And when he left the only squirrel-untouched fruits haphazardly on the sidewalk, that was the last straw. Most of the once-perfect peaches were now a ruined mess of bruised, blemished, sun-soaked mush.

  How dare he! She gingerly cleaned up the peach mess from the sidewalk and tossed it all in her yard-garbage bin. She came across two peaches, however, that seemed to have withstood Rahim’s rough handling. Untouched by the squirrels and birds, the skin of the peaches was smooth and perfect. But the thought of all her hard work yielding just two peaches left a bitter taste in her mouth. Maybe I can squeeze a small peach cobbler out of these…

  She scowled at the house next door, its tall white pillars decorating the front porch in antebellum style. Her gaze was drawn to the second-story window, where she spotted the curtains rustling. Then the venetian blinds swiveled shut. So, he had been watching her. She shuddered. How long has he been living in that house? And why haven’t I seen him before? She wondered if he’d been watching her all this time for days and weeks while she worked in her garden. A man like him didn’t seem to know the value of hard work. His hands looked too smooth, and he had the thin, average physique of someone who did a boring office job rather than hard labor. A sedentary life spent behind a desk all day would drive her crazy.

  Either way, she hoped it would be the last time she would ever see that obnoxious neighbor with the gorgeous brown eyes again. She hurried back inside her home and into her kitchen. She washed her two good peaches under cold water. Her mind shifted from Rahim back to her latest canceled client. As if her business hadn’t already been in the hole. It looked like this month she would be tapping into her nest egg to pay the bills. At this rate, she would have to start looking at getting some work at the local gym. A lot of people didn’t seem to be interested in at-home online personal trainers and preferred in-person interaction in order to stay disciplined and motivated. Renee understood. The at-home convenience wasn’t for everyone, though she’d figured most people would rather stay at home—like Mr. Hunter next door. She sneered. If he weren’t so damned cute, she’d follow through with her threat of reporting him to the authorities for stealing her fruit. Her gaze swiveled to outside her kitchen window and above the privacy fence to the other house’s second-story window. What does Rahim do for a living? She couldn’t believe it was the first time they’d met. Unfortunately, their first interaction hadn’t gone over too well.

  As she slowly cut into her first peach, its delectable juices dribbling onto the wooden cutting board, her doorbell rang. She frowned. Is it him again? She was tempted to give him a piece of her mind. Or maybe he’d come to apologize. Rahim did seem quite new to the area, after all, and apparently, he didn’t know the rules about stealing other people’s fruit. She’d hear him out.

  She answered the front door. Instead of Rahim, a large box sat on her doorstep. She caught a glimpse of the deliveryman hightailing it back to his big truck as though he were being chased by a rabid dog.

  The package was from an online grocery-delivery service. She already knew it wasn’t hers, as she preferred to get her own groceries. The deliveryman had already zoomed off down the street before she could stop him. Sighing, she checked the address, figuring she’d just have to hand deliver the package to the appropriate neighbor.

  She blinked several times. The package was addressed to house number 2703, the house next door—Rahim’s house. Renee could understand the deliveryman’s simple mistake since her house number was 2705. Still, she was hoping to avoid Rahim for the rest of the day. The fact that he used this grocery-delivery service made her wonder if he ever left his house. Her encounter with him must have been a rare opportunity.

  She realized she was really curious about what he did for a living. Perhaps she’d been a little too hard on him earlier, but only because she was so passionate about her work. She could learn to share and maybe try to start their meeting over again when she delivered his grocery box. She returned to her kitchen to finish cutting the peaches and devised the perfect apology for him.

  The computer screen’s cursor continued its obnoxious blinking as Rahim stared, frustrated, at the blank page. So many thoughts and ideas flooded his mind, yet he still couldn’t type a single word. Renee, that selfish woman, had unnerved him to no end. He should have trusted his instincts and stayed inside, away from the world’s problems. He was safer in his home, with his books.

  He needed to devise a brilliant twist for this newest book and a good villain to drive the story to its climax. Rahim perked up. Of course. He smirked. He’d considered using his ex, Joline, but Renee was fresher in his mind and seemed to fit the bill perfectly. Her selfishness, her sass, her independence… her beauty…

  His fingers suddenly raced across the keyboard faster than his mind could form complete ideas. The story came to life. He knew just how to exact his revenge on all the women who had betrayed him. “Never piss off a writer,” or so the saying went.

  Hours passed. His fingers slowed, and he realized he’d written seventeen new pages. The words were a blur as he thought about his earlier encounter with Renee. Who is she, anyway? She seemed to live alone in that house, and beyond that angry stare she’d given him, he could sense something more. Nervousness. Sadness. Perhaps she was just having a bad day. And he’d had to go and stoke those flames by taking her peaches. The woman was mysterious, all right—perfect fodder for his mystery-thriller novel. There was more to her than just a peach tree.

  He got up from his desk and went to his window that faced her yard. She was nowhere to be seen. The yard tools were cleaned up, and she seemed to have finished her work for the day. Perhaps tomorrow, Rahim could meet her again and apologize for the rough start. But will she accept my apology?

  He was headed back to his desk when the doorbell rang. He started. Has she come over to patronize me more? His heart pounded. He wished Renee would give up and go away, but when the bell rang again, followed by knocking, he knew she wasn’t going to leave anytime soon.

  He suddenly remembered his groceries were supposed to be delivered that day. That’s probably it. Renee surely had better things to do than to bother him. Heaving a deep sigh, he headed downstairs. He slowly approached the front door and checked the peephole. He hesitated then opened the door.

  Renee stood at his doorstep, dressed in black capri leggings, a purple tank top, and matching purple sneakers as though she were headed to the gym. His grocery box sat next to her. She held out a decorated plate of some sort of yellowish cake finely sliced and drizzled with white glaze. Her big brown eyes softened, and she flashed a perfect smile.

  “Hi again,” she said in an apologetic tone.

  He blinked several times. Am I dreaming? Is this the same wo
man I encountered earlier who wanted to report me for “stealing” her peaches? He regarded her warily and furrowed his brow. “Hi…”

  She nodded toward the grocery box. “That was delivered to me by mistake, so I brought it over.”

  He moistened his lips. She seemed to want to say more, but she remained silent. He looked over to the box, which was unopened and undamaged. The fact that she hadn’t destroyed his box like he had her peaches made him feel two inches tall. What a classy woman she is…

  “Thanks,” he finally said.

  Her lips pursed, and then she held out the plate. “So… I think we got off on a bad start, and I just want to apologize for blowing up at you earlier. I’m just a bit high-strung about things going on with my business, and then the issue with my peaches, and…”

  “Hey.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t touch your peach tree anymore.”

  Her gaze fluttered to the ground. “It’s not really about the peaches… I mean… not like that. Anyway, here. I made you some peach bread from some of the peaches you picked. Will you accept my apology?”

  His eyebrows shot up. Now, this was interesting. Usually, he was the one groveling. Is she serious? He stretched his arms out and graciously took the plate, looking at her dubiously. “Are you saying you’re giving me a ‘peach offering’?” The corner of his mouth lifted coyly at his own bad joke.

  She chuckled. “I see what you did there.”

  “Thanks, though. You didn’t have to do this. I was wrong for messing with your peach tree. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”