Diet be damned, Sydney hung up the flimsy wooden plank painted with BE BACK SOON in the shop window for lunch and hurried over to Utz’s, where she knew a hangover-curing chili cheeseburger awaited her.
The bar was surprisingly packed on the rainy Saturday afternoon. The blare of the college football game on TV reminded her that anyone who might’ve planned a hike or canoe trip today was here instead.
She found an empty stool at the far corner of the bar and waved at the bartender.
“IPA?” he asked.
Even though the thought of alcohol turned her stomach, a swell of warmth filled her chest. He remembered her drink order.
“I’m still a little drunk from last night, so I’m going to say Coca-Cola, please.”
Families and groups of beer-swilling men filled the tables around her, shouting at one another about Super Bowl prospects and deer-hunting season. The dull, incessant roar of voices drowned out her own thoughts. She settled comfortably into the noisy din of the lunch crowd, and as the man next to her vacated his spot at the bar, someone else quickly filled it. She inched farther to the right to give her new neighbor some space.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kiss you.”
The scratchy voice shot her adrenaline into overdrive. Sam sat on the stool next to her, a shit-eating grin spreading over his full lips. If she thought her hangover was beginning to fade, the appearance of Sam Kirkland threw her body for another loop.
“Oh, good. You. And here I thought maybe I wouldn’t have to run into you again while I was here.” Was the steel in her voice believable enough to gloss over the previous night’s mistakes? God, she hoped so.
“I don’t get it. You hate me or you want me to kiss you? I can’t keep up.”
“Shut up,” she said, pressing the heels of her hands into her throbbing forehead. “I had too much to drink, and I barely even knew what I was saying. If Greg had offered to drive me home, I’d have thrown myself at him instead.”
Sam’s tongue traced his bottom lip as his gaze landed on her lips. She prayed he wasn’t remembering her adverse reaction to Greg’s flirting at the bar. The truth was, she’d asked for that kiss from Sam because she wanted it from him and him alone.
“Poor Greg,” Sam said, the TV grabbing his attention. As he turned his face away from her, she saw the remnants of a tiny hole in his earlobe.
“Is your ear pierced?”
“Ah, yeah.” His mouth twitched into a half smile as his calloused fingers touched the earlobe. “Child of the nineties. I begged my father, and he said no a hundred times over. I believe the f-word was dropped once or twice. And then I went and did it anyway.”
“The f-word? He cursed at you because you wanted to pierce your ear?”
“Not that f-word.” He turned toward her again and raised his eyebrows. “Apparently if you’re a boy, the second the needle goes through your ear you’re immediately attracted to men.”
“Wow, your dad sounds”—she swallowed all the nasty names tugging at her tongue—“enlightened.”
“I didn’t realize the word ‘enlightened’ also meant ‘asshole.’” He rapped his knuckles on the bar in some unknown rhythm and nodded at the bartender for his usual. “You eating? I assume you’re not here to drink.”
“Yes. I need something greasy, and I need it immediately.”
“Make it the large platter of nachos, please, Hank.” The bartender nodded and turned away to place their order with the kitchen.
“That was presumptuous,” Sydney said. “I kind of wanted that chili cheeseburger again.”
“Trust me on this, all right? These nachos will wreck you. In the best way possible.”
He unzipped and peeled off his hoodie, and another tattoo peeked out from his gray T-shirt sleeve. This time she was close enough to see black feathers and the edge of a red flower petal wrapping around a delicious bicep. She swallowed down the urge to trace her fingertips over the art.
He caught her staring, and she quickly turned back to the football game. Even without looking, the weight of his eyes settled into her.
“Yes?” she asked.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” His voice had that crackling jazz-record quality again, nearly lost in the bustling crowd and football noise that swirled around them. But when she met his gaze, the simple sentiment resonated loud and clear.
“I’m not embarrassed.” Her voice cracked in the middle of the statement. Shit. “I mean, I’m a little embarrassed.”
“I’m uh . . .” He ran his teeth over his bottom lip. “I’m not really on the market.”
“What are you, cattle?”
A grin spread across his face. “Oh, so she does make jokes.”
“I’m not trying to date you. I promise.”
“All right,” he said. “Friends?”
“You want to be my friend?”
“Should I not want that?”
“I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t been all that nice to you since I got here. Maybe you’re just really, really lonely.”
It was her turn to send him a devious smile, and he shook his head. The drinks had clouded her judgment the night before, but in this moment, the electrical current flowed between them without question. He dropped his chin and stared deeply into her eyes.
“Sometimes this town feels like living on a merry-go-round. Every day is the same. The people are the same, the topics of conversation are the same. So while I admit I was busy judging you for your high heels and your BMW, I also thought maybe you’d traveled. Maybe you’d been to an art museum or skimmed a copy of the New York Times in the last year. I thought maybe you’d be cool and that we could talk about something other than deer lure and how bad the winter’s gonna be this year. Am I wrong?”
It took a second before she realized her fists were clenched. In fact, every muscle in her body was contracted, held, waiting for a release. He’d studied her, thought about her outside the confines of some girl Jorie brought to the bar. With a deep breath, she ordered her body to relax. This still meant nothing. He was off the market. And she was leaving.
Wasn’t she?
“You’re not wrong,” she said. “I travel when I can. And I have a subscription to the Times. Although now that I said that, I’m afraid it makes me sound like some annoying princess from New York who orders cosmos at Utz’s.”
“Maybe you’re part cosmo princess, part sailor-mouthed pool shark. You don’t have to be one or the other.”
Didn’t she? With Connor, she’d had to give up so much of the person she’d become to fit into his world. He’d grimaced at her cursing, rolled his eyes at her trashy magazine subscriptions, and had actually thrown away a box of Twinkies she’d purchased on a nostalgic whim. It seemed easier to let the little pieces of herself go to avoid Connor’s criticism. But what had she given up in the pursuit of financial stability?
A sweet, spicy scent floated over the heads of the bar patrons and hit Sydney square in the face, yanking her out of her reverie. She breathed in the flavored air. “Wow, something smells incredible.”
“When it comes to food, you should never doubt me.”
Hank set down a pizza tray covered edge to edge in crispy tortilla chips topped with melted cheese, onions, and pulled pork.
“The house special,” Hank said. “The Kirkland.”
Sam sat up straight with a puffed-out chest.
“I order this so much they named it after me.”
She watched with delight as he lifted a loaded chip to his curved lips, opened his mouth, and inhaled the entire thing.
“Wow,” she said. “That was impressive.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he said around a mouthful of chips and cheese. “I did it to impress you.”
They polished off the entire tray of nachos, and after consuming the last crumb of tortilla chi
p, she leaned back on the barstool and clasped her hands over her distended belly. She couldn’t believe she’d helped him eat the whole tray.
“I actually can’t remember the last weekend where I ate so much freaking food,” she said. “Muffins, donuts, cheeseburgers, nachos. And there’s no gym here, so I’ll probably have to rely on running outside for exercise, and with the wonky weather up here, it seems like I won’t even be able to do much of that. I’ll probably die of a heart attack before I leave.”
“Well, if you make it until Tuesday, there’s an amazing café about thirty miles north of here. They don’t have pulled pork nachos, but everything is locally grown, and you can even get a salad if you want.”
He had a smudge of barbecue sauce on his cheek. She wanted to lean forward and lick it off. The sudden urge, despite how full and tired she felt, made her laugh.
“What’s funny?” His voice bordered on defensive, like a little boy on the playground. “Having another meal together is laughable?”
“No,” she said, tamping down the smile. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else. I think I’m losing my mind up here.”
“It’s probably the cell phone detox. Lack of service. Your brain is learning how to think on its own again.”
Your brain is learning how to think on its own again. He couldn’t know what that meant to her, and she reached for the chain at her neck. She placed her hand in her lap. The necklace was gone. The man who’d given it to her was gone. All she had was herself and her own instincts.
“I should go,” she said, easing her body off the barstool. “How much do I owe you for lunch?”
“It’s on me.” His eyes softened when he looked at her, that lingering gaze that stripped away all pretense and left her exposed.
“No,” she choked out. “Please, we should split it.”
“Next one’s on you, all right?”
She nodded. Next one. “All right. Next one’s on me.”
chapter eight
The rain tapered off in the afternoon, but the earlier downpours had sufficiently scared away any and all shoppers from downtown. Sydney tallied up the day’s sales, a whopping $109.32, and tidied the store quickly before heading out into the damp evening.
Despite the deep puddles in the road and the veil of dusk, the bike ride home calmed her nerves. She breathed in the cold, clean air and let the lingering rain mist her face as she sailed past pungent pine trees and dodged tree limbs cluttering up the shoulder.
As she rounded the corner into Karen’s apartment building’s parking lot, a deer darted in front of her path and she nearly tumbled off the bike. She pressed a hand to her racing heart and laughed. Even the traffic in Pine Ridge charmed.
When she entered the apartment, she expected to see her mother sitting in the same armchair working at her crossword puzzle. But the living room was empty. The closed bedroom door made her pause. She couldn’t be sleeping. Her mother always slept with the bedroom door open. Karen always said that if someone was going to break in, she wanted to see them coming.
“Mom?” A thud and a rustling came from the bedroom, and then the door burst open. Karen hurried out, tugging a robe closed around her, her face crimson and her eyes wide.
“Suds, what the heck are you doing here so early?”
She opened her mouth to remind her mother it was well past closing time when a figure appeared in the doorway behind Karen. He was nearly as wide as the doorframe and stood only a few inches taller than Karen, his hair pulled back into a long gray ponytail. He wore a convivial smile and a full-length blue nightgown that looked about ready to burst at the seams. Well. This was new.
“Um.” Sydney’s mouth pulled into a grimace as she blinked rapidly. “Hello.”
“Suds.” Her mother swayed back and forth as she did whenever she was lying. Typically an open book, Sydney had only seen Karen caught in a lie a handful of times. “This is Yuri. My friend from the liquor store.”
“Friend?” Yuri said. He glared at Karen. “I should say I’m more than a friend. In any case, Sydney, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you.” He approached Sydney with his arm outstretched and the same wide grin shining at her.
“Nice to meet you,” Sydney said, grasping his hand. He closed his other hand around hers and pumped twice. Was it general exhaustion or the utter absurdity of seeing her mother with a man in her bedroom that caused her field of vision to swim and flicker in and out of focus?
“I’ve heard so much about you,” he continued. “Sydney the lawyer this, and Sydney the beauty that. Your mom is your number one fan.”
“Oh, Yuri, shut the hell up and go put some pants on.” Karen scurried in between them and shoved Yuri toward the bedroom. When she returned, she faced Sydney with puppy-dog eyes and a flat-lipped smile.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s nothing,” her mother whispered, leaning in so Yuri couldn’t hear. “He really is just a friend. I’m too old for boyfriends, Suds. Plus, why mention him to my daughter if it’s no big deal? I don’t want you getting attached to somebody if he’s gonna disappear in a few weeks.”
“I’m thirty years old,” Sydney said with a laugh. “You don’t have to protect me anymore. I just want you to be happy.”
Karen’s face melted into pure relief. She placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and squeezed. Hardheaded and stubborn, self-sufficient and independent. In Karen, Sydney saw glimpses of the kind of woman she’d prided herself on being. Before Connor. Before she’d let her thirst for the finer things surpass her desire to live a full and meaningful life.
Yuri, now fully clothed, told Sydney once again how nice it was to meet her and then made his exit. Sydney pretended not to see him kiss Karen’s lips as he waddled out the front door.
As Karen scuttled into the kitchen in slippered feet to put on the kettle, a startling sadness settled over Sydney. She was lost, floating in the loamy blue waters between her old life in New York and a future beyond the horizon that she couldn’t quite make out yet. At the same time, she was here, in the steady, reassuring presence of her confident mother, with a bird’s-eye view of happiness in its simplest form.
An idea formed.
“Suds,” Karen said gently, turning away from the stove, her weathered brow pinched in the middle. “What’s going on?”
“What if I stayed here for a little longer?” Sydney whispered, tears blurring her vision. “Just until things settle.”
“Baby, stay as long as you like.” Karen’s cool, dry hand grasped Sydney’s elbow and squeezed. “Having you tend to the store gives me some time to relax and do a lot of things I haven’t had time for since I moved up here. Playing the guitar, hiking, exploring the neighboring towns.”
“Will you let me help you?” Sydney asked. “Maybe think up some ideas for drumming up store business?”
Karen’s lips pursed, and she retracted her hand. Unless Karen had swapped personalities with June Cleaver since Sydney had seen her last, she knew her mother wouldn’t stand for someone coming into her home and telling her how to run her business.
“I don’t know,” Karen said. “You’ve probably got a lot of big-city ideas, and those types of things just don’t work with small-town people.”
“I’ll run everything by you. And it won’t be anything drastic. A few small changes here and there. I have some ideas, but I don’t want to fully explain yet until I flesh them out a bit more. Okay?”
Karen nodded as the teakettle began its low whistle. As she prepared two mugs of cinnamon spice, Sydney wandered into the living room and collapsed onto the scratchy plaid couch.
She’d stay here. In Pine Ridge. Indefinitely. The past ten years of her life, from undergrad through law school and beyond, had been all but erased, as if she’d never accomplished anything at all.
The tears appeared once again.
Sydney swallowed, but the chalky feeling in her mouth remained.
“Look at what I did.” Her eyes focused on the ratty blue carpet beneath her feet. “I quit my job. I let Connor take care of me. I’m driving the car he gave me the down payment for. I gave a man all the power even though I told myself since I was a kid I would never, ever do that. I’d take care of myself. I’d be my own person. I worked so hard to make sure I could take care of myself, and then in one year I gave it all away. And now I have nothing.”
Silence settled over the room, and when Sydney looked up, she found her mother’s eyes filled with tears. Karen ran her hand over her face and turned her gaze toward the window, where tree branches swayed lazily in the inky-blue evening.
“Oh, hun.” Karen’s voice was a whisper, and she turned her head again, this time staring straight into her daughter’s face. “Maybe fancy cars and purses seemed like the end goal, but while you worked toward them you gained independence. You figured out how to do it on your own. You’ve been doing it since you were fifteen freaking years old.”
Karen’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “Okay, so you got waylaid. Connor didn’t define you, he just sidetracked you for a minute. Took you in a direction you weren’t meant for. You’ll find your place again. It just might look a little different than you expected.”
Sydney gnawed at her lip. She knew her mother was right. And she also knew she was a long way from truly believing it herself.
* * *
• • •
As Sydney crossed the street toward the Loving Page a few days later, she called out to two women lingering near the front door. “Good morning!”
Wild Love Page 6
