Palmetto Passion: A Sweet Small Town Family Romance (The Bradford Brothers Book 1)

by Christina Benjamin

  But I, like the water, would remember. I would feel that hole in my heart forever.

  Even after all this time, no other woman compared to Charlie. I was hers completely. And when she walked away, she’d taken my entire heart with her.

  It wasn’t like I’d never sought comfort with other women since I’d left Bradford Cove behind. I’d hoped that if I found someone new, the yearning in my heart would subside.

  It didn’t. All it did was make me crave Charlie more.

  And being back here . . . it brought all those memories flooding back.

  It was painful just sitting out here in the grass because every inch of this place carried a memory with Charlie. She used to love to dance across our lawn, feeling the soft grass beneath her feet. I would sit in this very spot for hours and admire her.

  Charlie was the first girl I ever loved. Hell, she might be the only girl I’d ever loved. But everything about that first sweet romance was forbidden thanks to her friendship with

  Ivy.

  Charlie and I had tried to fight our feelings for one another, but during that summer when Ivy left for camp, we’d finally given in to our mutual longing.

  It’d been amazing and glorious and magical . . . and far too sweet to last.

  That one summer we spent together was the best of my life, but it wasn’t enough. But then again, I’d always want more when it came to Charlie.

  I should’ve known it at the time, but I was head-over-heels and enjoying every second of it. My heart didn't stop tumbling until Charlie looked right into my eyes and told me she was leaving.

  Not just South Carolina, but me, too.

  At the time, I was ready to tell Ivy everything. I was ready to bear the brunt of my sister’s unhappiness if it meant I got to live a life with Charlie at my side.

  Sneaking kisses when no one was around was exhilarating and fun, but I was ready for that next big step. I was ready for a life with the girl I loved.

  Apparently, Charlie didn't feel the same.

  One day we were planning our future and how we’d break the news to my little sister, and the next, Charlie was crushing my heart under her pointed ballerina shoes.

  She’d announced she was heading to New York City to join a ballet company there. I’d been shocked, but I told her that I’d wait for her, or go with her, but Charlie didn't sugarcoat the truth: she didn't want that. She didn’t want me.

  As still-raw memories flashed through my mind, I gave a faint grunt and shook my head hard in an attempt to liberate myself from the ache of my throbbing chest. My fingers pressed over my heart again, but the painful pulse remained.

  I’d always been a romantic guy; the most sensitive of the three Bradford brothers. But that didn’t bother me. Actually, I was proud that I was a firm believer in soulmates. I loved the idea that every person has another half out there whose heart perfectly fit theirs. When you find that person you know. It just clicks like two puzzle pieces sinking into place.

  That was Charlie for me.

  I’d been so sure that she was my person, my other half, my soulmate. Even after all she’d done . . . I still believed we weren’t over.

  Over the past few years, I’d tried to throw that idea out the window so that I could move on, but now I wondered if maybe I’d actually been right all along. Maybe we were still meant to be and fate had brought us both back here to finish what we started all those years ago.

  I mean, I still hadn’t met anyone who measured up to Charlie in any way. That spark I felt with her was still the strongest current I’ve ever experienced. Even to this day, I still felt that intense connection we once shared whenever I thought about her.

  Was I delusional? Or just broken?

  What happens to your heart when your soulmate, your one true love, decides not to care about you anymore?

  I didn’t know the answer, but I did know it was impossible to move on from a woman like Charlie Kincaid.

  She’d been perfect, with those big brown eyes that glimmered gold in the sunlight and that long blonde hair she could effortlessly twist up into a ballerina bun. I’d always known she was talented too. Even when she doubted herself, I reminded her that I thought she was the best dancer around. When Charlie danced, she went into a world all her own. Her eyes perfectly focused, her neck long, her lean legs unbelievably strong while her arms flowed through each movement with grace and poise. It’d been almost haunting, the way she moved.

  In fact, when Charlie told me about her plan to go to New York to chase her dream, my first reaction was pride.

  I was so damn proud of that girl—my girl—for taking such a huge leap of faith.

  It wasn’t until she started chewing on her thumbnail the way she always did when she was nervous that I realized her dream didn’t include me.

  I’d let her go, of course. I didn’t want to try to convince someone I loved not to chase her dreams, especially not someone with as much potential as Charlie, but my heart was so empty without her that I couldn’t take it.

  Just walking through the streets of Bradford Cove devastated me. And because we’d kept our love a secret, I was alone in that devastation.

  Everywhere I went, I was haunted by her. Every glimpse of blonde hair had me instinctively checking to make sure it wasn’t her. Even after I got on my boat and sailed as far away as I could, that habit never stopped. Sometimes, I still heard laughter that sounded just like Charlie’s and I found myself suddenly hurtling headlong toward the sound as quickly as my legs would take me . . . but it was never her.

  How would I be able to stand seeing her now? How could I be close to her and not reach out and brush a golden lock of hair back from her lovely face? How could I remind myself that her hand was not mine to hold before instinctively trying to twine my fingers with hers?

  It wasn’t long after she left town that I followed suit on my boat.

  My parents couldn’t understand why I was so determined to ditch my life here and see where the tides would take me. It wasn’t like I could explain to them why leaving was necessary. If they’d found out about Charlie and me, they would’ve had to tell Ivy, and what was the point of that when Charlie had already dumped me? That’d just be salt in the wound.

  For a while, my boat and I drifted with no destination.

  I let the winds lead the way. At most ports, I didn't even bother noting where I was. I just got supplies as I required them and headed back out to sea. Being adrift and surrounded by blue water was the only place I seemed to be free of Charlie, for the most part, anyway. At times I still dreamt about her—and by that, I mean every night I dreamt about her.

  Eventually, after weeks at sea, I’d ended up in a tiny town on the coast of Connecticut.

  There was no rhyme or reason for why I chose that place. Perhaps I was just tired of traveling, or maybe something about the briny sea air reminded me of home. Either way, I’d finally stopped drifting.

  To my surprise, I even managed to use my heartache to start a life there. I opened a small art studio and began to paint. To my greater surprise, people loved my art. They couldn’t get enough.

  For the last several years, I’d let my work consume me. Every errant emotion left in my wounded heart, I poured onto a canvas. It paid off quite nicely too, though money had never been my driving force despite my wealth growing up. It was meaningless to me since I knew no amount of money would be enough to buy the only thing I truly wanted.

  A commotion behind me drew me from my melancholy memories.

  The lawn behind the house was beginning to crawl with movement. My quiet time for reflection was officially over. Workers were arriving to prepare the property for the wedding and thanks to Rowan’s phone call, it was only a matter of minutes before my mother or Ivy came poking around for me.

  Though I shouldn’t blame my brother. The mast of my sailboat would’ve given me away if he hadn’t. Plus, Rowan had been through a heartache of his own. One that I couldn’t even begin to fathom, and still, the guy had the
compassion to reach out to me.

  Moving slowly, like the weight of the world was on my shoulders, I pushed myself up to my feet and looked up at my childhood home before putting off the inevitable. Beginning my trek across the grass I wondered who I’d find waiting for me.

  I’d only just arrived. My parents and Ivy knew I was coming to the wedding, but the winds and tides had brought me here quicker than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t had a chance to let anyone know I was home.

  Well, Rowan knew, either from some brotherly sixth sense or spotting my boat. But suddenly I felt anxious about surprising the rest of my family. I’d been so worried about what I’d do when I ran into Charlie that I hadn’t thought about what confronting my father would be like.

  I gritted my teeth and flexed my neck like a boxer preparing for a fight as I marched up to the house. I was still confused about a lot of things when it came to Charlie, but there was nothing confusing about my relationship with my father—or lack thereof.

  “One thing at a time,” I muttered, reminding myself that I wouldn’t have to see Charlie until the big day.

  At least that was one thing in my favor.

  What I should be focused on was finding a way to fit in around here. Thanks to my father, I’d never really felt like I’d belonged. And after so many years away, I had a feeling things wouldn’t be any easier.

  Chapter 2 - CHARLOTTE

  Wind whipped through my hair as I drove my rental car through the beautiful streets of Bradford Cove.

  It felt like I’d gone back in time—a teenager again, steering quickly through the little town with my windows down so the music from my radio could pour into the street. Though, I didn't have someone snoozing away in my passenger seat back then like I did now.

  Even though I wasn’t the small-town girl I used to be, my soul always felt like singing when I thought about coming home. And when one of my favorite Hootie & the Blowfish songs started playing, I couldn’t resist turning the radio up to sing along to “Only Wanna Be with You.”

  Next to me, Byron snorted his disgust. “If you’re going to sing at least sing something decent,” he complained.

  So he hadn’t been sleeping. I sighed. Typical.

  Byron Montgomery only did what Byron Montgomery wanted to do. And coming to my Podunk little town as he called it was not high on his priority list. Neither was learning anything about the place where I’d grown up apparently. I’d been pointing out familiar places as we got closer to Bradford Cove, reminiscing about my childhood when he suddenly started snoring. But the optimist in me wouldn’t let me give up on him.

  I was determined that this trip was going to be good for us.

  “Aw, come on, babe. You can’t not crank some Hootie when you’re in palmetto country. Darius Rucker is one of our favorite sons,” I added, claiming him as my own, as all true South Carolinians did.

  “Hootie? Darius?” Byron scoffed. “I don’t even know what language you’re speaking.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. Had the boy learned nothing during his four years of college in Charleston? I mean really, who didn’t know Darius Rucker? The man was a legend, far and wide outside of South Carolina. He made the leap from pop to country for crying out loud!

  Just to show where my true allegiance lied, I turned the radio even louder, tuning Byron and his judge-y comments out.

  I rolled my window down and let my hand ride the warm air. Despite the time and miles that separated Manhattan from Bradford Cove, I felt suddenly at peace now that I'd returned—for the most part at least.

  There was one very significant part of this journey that I was dreading to my core.

  Though, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t also a tiny part of me that was excited at the idea of seeing that certain someone again.

  It wasn’t like I still had feelings for the blue-eyed Bradford boy that I’d left behind after high school graduation. That would just be silly, and I was not a silly girl.

  I was Charlotte now, not Charlie. And Charlotte was driven, hardworking, and ambitious. I’d proven that by going to New York in the first place.

  When I left home for Manhattan, I left all those foolish, forbidden feelings for my best friend’s big brother resolutely in my rearview mirror.

  That little pitter-patter that was currently happening in my heart as I thought of seeing Colton again . . . it was just normal jitters. At least that’s what I told myself.

  The excitement I felt toward getting to see Colton wasn’t that different from the happiness I felt when I thought of seeing the rest of the Bradford clan. It’d been ages since we’d all been together. It was normal to feel giddy—and sweaty—right?

  I shook my head and adjusted my sunglasses on my nose after checking my reflection in the rearview mirror for the hundredth time. For a not-silly girl, I was having some very silly thoughts.

  I needed to focus on what was important right now, and that was the fact that my best friend since childhood was getting married to the man of her dreams. Nothing else mattered. I wouldn’t let it. As the maid of honor, it was my duty to do everything in my power to make sure Ivy’s big day was the most over the top, wonderful, dreamy twenty-four hours of her life.

  That’s why I’d jumped at the chance to surprise her when my latest runway show got cancelled. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like my designs were bumped from the line. I was nowhere near that level yet. I’d only been hired as a wardrobe assistant. But the moment I found out I’d have some unexpected time off I knew exactly how I wanted to spend it.

  Ivy was going to flip when she found out I was free for the whole week of wedding festivities.

  I shifted my foot to the brake pedal and the car slowed to a stop in front of a familiar stop sign. My rental car idled patiently while I leaned out the window an inch or two so that I could take in the nostalgic beauty of the town’s quiet streets. Boutiques, shops and cafés lined both sides, many of their doors propped open invitingly.

  With Ivy’s wedding approaching, I was sure every shop in town was buzzing with excitement. Knowing Ivy, this would be the most extravagant event our sleepy little town had ever seen. Well, aside from Mr. and Mrs. Bradford’s wedding all those years ago and that one time JFK Jr. came through town.

  The Bradfords were friends with everyone in town, and apparently the Kennedys. They were pretty much Southern Royalty. At least that’s how I’d always viewed them. In my opinion, there was no family more worthy of the title.

  Most people felt that same way, so I knew everyone in Bradford Cove would be celebrating Ivy in their own special way. The dress shops and hair salons would be filled with ladies eager to look their best.

  Thankfully, Ivy didn’t have to worry about anyone outshining her bridal party since I’d designed each and every gown by hand. As I waited for a mother and her young daughter to amble across the street, I flexed my hands proudly on the steering wheel. At least my fingers were as good at sewing as my feet were at dancing. Not that being a fashion designer had been any easier of a career choice than pursuing ballet.

  Maybe I was still that silly girl after all, chasing these lofty dreams of mine.

  “Charlie Kincaid!” someone called, the voice rising over the sound of my radio. “Is that you?”

  I followed the voice to a group of women chatting near the bakery. They waved feverishly and I lifted a hand to wave back even though I didn’t recognize them. It was the polite thing to do. Well, in South Carolina, anyway.

  Even though I was a city girl now, there would always be a proud part of me that was rooted in this small southern town. I waved to the women as I drove by, feeling a bit in awe by how little had changed here.

  It felt like a lifetime ago that I’d called Bradford Cove home. I’d been a different girl then. A braver one. Sometimes I could hardly believe I managed to make it to the big city to begin with.

  But what did it cost me?

  I rarely let myself think about that. It hurt too much. Especially since it h
ad all been for nothing. But I guess that’s what I got for thinking I could make it big. Small town girls like me were never meant to be prima ballerinas.

  I should’ve known better.

  Maybe it was the people I’d surrounded myself with back then that gave me such delusions of grandeur.

  Growing up with Ivy Bradford as a best friend, it was easy to start to think that life could be that simple. Everything she wanted, she got. At some point, I guess I began to believe that maybe it would be that easy for me too.

  At the moment, that notion made me want to cringe.

  I wasn’t a Bradford and never would be. That was a tough pill to swallow, but eventually I’d learned to alter my dreams.

  Despite my conflicting emotions about being home, a huge smile lit my face as I drove past the old brick two-story that had been my old school. It housed grades K-12.

  Hells bells, did I have some good times there.

  I could still clearly remember the look my parents exchanged when I came home from my kindergarten class and excitedly told them all about the little blonde girl who’d sat next to me at lunch. I don’t know why Ivy was drawn to me, but we’d connected immediately over our shared love of PB&Js: no crust, heavy on the J.

  Sometimes I wondered what my life would’ve been like if I’d sat in a different spot that day. Befriending Ivy, meeting Colton, being taken under the motherly wing of Mrs. Bradford—it’d all happened because the seat next to me happened to be empty and Ivy happened to wander over.

  When I told my parents the last name of my new best friend, my mother’s jaw dropped to the floor. Being the naïve kid I was, I’d thought it was funny that Ivy’s last name matched the name of our town. I’d had no idea at the time that Bradford Cove was named for her family and not the other way around.

  I didn't begin to put two and two together until much later when Ivy begged me to go to her place for a sleepover. It was that night that I realized exactly where Ivy lived. I lived only a few miles away. I’d passed the giant, intimidating iron gate to Ivy’s home a thousand times on my way into town. But I’d never imagined who lived there.