“Oh, shut up, will you?” Jorie said, whacking the back of Greg’s head. “Has she shown any interest in you whatsoever? No. So back off.”
Sydney’s shoulders shook with laughter as she doubled over. “Thanks, Jorie.”
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.
With hunched shoulders and arms crossed tightly over her chest, she took her bottom lip into her mouth and blinked up at him as he approached.
“You don’t happen to have a spare bra, do you?” A grin played on her mouth. “Or, at the very least, a sweatshirt to put over this semi-sheer shirt?”
Heat rose from his chest into his cheeks. Of course. She was a woman. And everything she’d been wearing was soaked. And now, in addition to a bra, she probably wasn’t wearing . . .
“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I didn’t do that on purpose, I promise.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s fine.”
He hurried back into his bedroom and tore a black sweatshirt from the dresser. He spun around to return to the living room but didn’t get more than a foot before he stopped dead in his tracks.
She stood in the doorway with her arms by her sides. The peaks of her hardened nipples pressed against the white cotton fabric. This time he couldn’t talk himself out of the movement below his belt.
“Here.” He handed over the sweatshirt and prayed she couldn’t see the erection straining against his jeans. “Do you need anything else? Socks?”
“Socks would be great.” She took the sweatshirt and slipped it over her head as he rummaged through his sock drawer. She’s not trying to seduce you, you idiot. And now she probably thinks you’re a creep.
As the socks passed between them, the tips of her fingers grazed his, and his breath caught in his throat. But her face remained placid as she took the thick wool socks and slipped her feet into them. Her toenails were painted bright pink.
Abruptly, he took a step backward. What is wrong with you? It’s been that long since a woman has voluntarily touched you that accidentally brushing her fingers gives you a hard-on?
He licked his lips as she stood upright and grinned at him. When she smiled, her lips pressed together for a moment before pulling back and revealing her beautifully white teeth, as if she was waiting to see if the recipient was worth the effort of a full smile.
Again, he took a step back, and this time he physically shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts of her. “All right, you good?”
With one last flash of teeth, she nodded.
They joined the rest of the group in the living room, and Sydney settled into the corner of the couch, tucking her feet up underneath her and resting her arms on Olivia’s pink pillow. Olivia’s pillow.
He cleared his throat in a conscious effort to avoid thoughts of Liv. She wasn’t there physically, and he’d do his damnedest to keep her away emotionally.
Stew simmered on the stovetop, and Sam dished out large bowls to each of his chilled, starving friends. They tucked into the hearty meal, and a silence fell over the group.
“Damn, this is good,” Greg quipped, his mouth full of gravy and venison.
“Amazing,” Sydney said. “Sam, you made this?”
“Yeah.” Gravy dribbled down Sam’s chin, but the food tasted too good to stop for grooming.
“Wow, he cooks.” She gifted him with the full smile again, and he snorted a laugh.
“It’s a three-step recipe, not rocket science.”
“Plus,” Jorie cut in, “someone in this house has to cook. Otherwise, they’d all starve.”
His eyes darted to Sydney. Did she twitch? How much did she know about him? Simply looking around the house wouldn’t alert someone to the presence of a woman or an eight-year-old kid. He didn’t want her to know about Olivia and Jay. At least not yet.
“Well, it’s really good,” Sydney said. Relief seeped under his skin at her change of subject. Maybe she didn’t want to know. “Is it beef?”
“Venison,” Matt said, filling his bowl up again from the Crock-Pot in the tiny open kitchen.
Sydney swallowed, and her eyes skipped around the group. “V-Venison?”
“Yeah,” Sam said. “We hunt for the meat, and then we cook it.”
“Oh God.” Her lips turned down as she carefully set the bowl on the coffee table in front of her. “You killed this?”
“Yes.”
“Oh man.” Her face crumpled further into disgust.
“Can I ask where you think your chili cheeseburgers come from?” Sam said.
“That’s different.” She pulled her hands inside her sweatshirt sleeves and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Those cows are raised to be meat. Deer are these beautiful creatures that live in the forest and don’t hurt anybody.”
“You are such a city girl.” Greg rolled his eyes and dragged a wrist across his gravy-covered chin. “Deer are overpopulated in this area. They’re getting killed on highways because they don’t have anywhere to go. Hunters around here are encouraged to hunt deer.”
Her face softened. “Really?”
“We’ll take you hunting,” Sam said. “I mean, if you want to. Depending on how long you’re here, I guess.”
“You’re so obsessed with how long I’m staying.” A smile played on her lips, and she lowered her gaze, sending a flurry of nerves up inside Sam’s chest. Every pair of eyes in the room rested on him.
“How’s that?” Jorie asked. Sam knew that steely gaze. It would be the look Jorie gave her future kids to scare them into admitting lies.
“I’m teasing him.” The fire in Sydney’s stare faded away, and she picked up the bowl of stew once more. “It’s looking like I’ll be here at least a few more months. I’m making the Loving Page my new project so that my mom doesn’t go completely bankrupt.”
“Your mom’s the best,” Matt said. He leaned back into the couch, and the furniture groaned under his weight. “One time during a bad rainstorm my truck got stuck in the mud and freaking Karen Walsh helped me pull it out. What is she, ninety pounds? I was about to call some buddies, and there’s Karen, stomping out of her store wearing a rain slicker and work gloves.”
“That’s her,” Sydney said. Affection warmed her face. “She’s a pit bull.”
“I wish we could help her,” Jorie said. “I hate to think what would happen if she had to close the store. I wonder if she’d stick around or leave town?”
“I did have an idea.”
All eyes turned to Sydney. She rearranged herself on the couch to sit a little taller and look out over the group. She caught Sam’s eye, and he winked at her for encouragement. He loved her idea. It embraced the small-town values but with a fresh coat of paint.
“Tell me if it’s crazy. It would definitely require the help of some locals.”
“Some locals, at your service,” Greg said.
Greg, despite his quips about a rich boyfriend and plastic surgery, had had his eye on Sydney since the first night she’d shown up at Taylor’s. In his own buffoonish way, he’d been flirting. The thought of him asking her out turned Sam’s stomach to ice.
“Jorie was in the shop a while back, and some tourists were looking at the romance novels,” Sydney said. “They bought a couple and showed up a few days later wanting more. So I thought, what if we encouraged that demographic to shop at the store, supplied a bigger selection of romance than you’d find nearly anywhere else, and started a book club that served as a social gathering in the colder months and encouraged people to spend money at the store? Jorie’s been lending me some of her romance novels, and I’m hooked. The writing is amazing. I’ve been fangirling hard on some of these authors. And romance readers seem like the type of people who might champion a small local bookstore.”
Sydney’s gaze danced around the circle with hope gleaming in her eyes. The steely veneer she’d worn since she’d shown
up in Pine Ridge had finally seemed to fade away, and for the first time, Sam saw the determined but vulnerable woman underneath.
“I love it!” Jorie nearly leaped out of the armchair she’d been sitting in. “And the women in this town would love it, too. You’re so right, Syd. Romance readers would absolutely rally around a local bookstore specializing in their favorite genre. And my mom is always complaining that the only places to get together around here in the winter are bars. She’ll be over the moon. Brilliant idea.”
Sydney’s face lit up with joy, and something deep within Sam’s gut stirred in response.
“And you’re gonna do it up big, right?” Sam asked. He wanted her to keep talking, keep explaining her idea. Anything to prolong the optimism beaming from her eyes.
When she’d initially told him about her plan as they drove home from Tree Torn Fresh, he’d relished the idea of her remaining in town for a while. Even if he couldn’t deep dive into why he felt the way he did, the fact was that she was a Monet on the wall of this empty room of a town.
Every space brightened in her wake. His life had been nothing but gloom and doom for over a year. Hell, Jay was eight years old, and Liv had been his personal thundercloud since before the kid was born.
“Yes.” Sydney’s smile grew a little wider. “I’m going to clean up the store, redecorate. We could have events, knitting parties, recipe swaps. And we could do book signings with romance authors. Pine Ridge is only a few hours’ drive from New York City, and this is a huge geographic area that I can’t imagine many authors bother to come and visit. I could even drive into the city myself and pick them up.”
“Syd, I love it,” Jorie said. “I think it’s fantastic. I will help you in any way that I can. Obviously, consider your snacks totally taken care of. If we held the book-club meetings at night after the bakery closes, you could have our day-olds.”
“Let me know if you need books hauled,” Matt said, pushing himself to his feet. “This girly conversation is a little much for me. Gents? Care to join me in the smoking lounge?” He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his coat pocket and nodded toward the side porch.
Sydney and Jorie huddled together on the couch, buzzing excitedly, and Sam joined Matt. As the guys stepped out into the chilly evening air, Greg said, “I think it’s a great idea, Sydney. Anything you need help with, you just let me know.”
The thick navy-blue darkness wrapped around them as the porch door slammed shut behind Greg. Sam looked out over the lake, tinted black in the nighttime with no moon to light it. “Shit, it’s dark out here,” Matt muttered, the cigarette dangling from his lips. The tiny flame of the lighter illuminated Matt’s round white face.
“Kirks?” Greg offered Sam a cigarette, but Sam refused.
He only smoked when he really needed it. He didn’t want to need it.
“I’m surprised you’re out here with us.” Matt clapped a hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Thought you’d be sittin’ at Sydney’s feet offering to lick the shop floor clean if she wanted it to really sparkle.”
“Shut up.” Greg shoved Matt’s arm away. He dragged on his cigarette and leaned against the porch railing. Sam’s eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and he saw Greg’s dopey face gazing toward the window where Sydney and Jorie sat.
“Why don’t you just ask her out?” Matt said.
Sam coughed as his throat dried up. Maybe he’d need that cigarette after all.
“She’s got a boyfriend, right?” Greg asked.
“Nah,” Matt said. “I guess that’s why she came up here in the first place. Caught her boyfriend cheating on her.”
Bright lights flashed in Sam’s field of vision, and it took him a second to realize they weren’t real. It was anger. Pure, undiluted anger.
“Cheating on her?” Sam’s voice came out on a low growl.
“Jorie told me specifics, but I kinda tuned her out,” Matt said. “The important part is, she’s single. Ask her out, man.”
Sam bit down on the inside of his lip and shifted on his feet. He crossed his arms and then uncrossed them. He leaned against the side of the house and stood upright again. Someone cheated on Sydney. Sam had known her for only a week and his knuckles itched to crack the jaw of this phantom boyfriend.
“I dunno,” Greg said, glancing through the window again. “She’s been single, what, ten minutes? Plus, she’s way hotter than me.”
Greg’s hand trailed over the curve of his belly and tugged on the edge of his T-shirt. Sam had known the guy so long that he’d missed Greg’s transformation from good-looking high school kid to paunchy adult. But when Sam envisioned the type of slick, rich guy Sydney had probably dated in New York, he understood Greg’s apprehension.
“So what?” Matt stubbed his cigarette butt out on the porch post.
“Dude,” Sam scolded. He ran a hand over the ashy spot. No mark.
“Sorry, man.” Matt turned back to Greg. “Jorie is way hotter than me. This I know. But I’ve got two things going for me: one, I’m great in the sack.”
Sam shouted a laugh straight out over the lake, and the echo bounced off the water.
“Two,” Matt said, giving Sam the stink eye. “I’m freakin’ charming, man. Be charming, and Sydney will say yes. She just got cheated on. Now’s the perfect time to capitalize on her probable hatred of sleazy, hot, rich guys.”
“Or you could just leave her alone,” Sam said. “Give her some space. Let her do whatever it is she’s trying to do here.”
A silence settled over the trio. Why was he acting this way? Sure, Sydney was cute. All right, gorgeous. But he’d been around plenty of good-looking women before, and none of them had caused this protective, animalistic reaction in him. He only knew he didn’t want to hear anything more about Greg’s plan to woo Sydney.
He released a long, deep breath and headed inside. Just as he did, the phone in the kitchen began to ring.
chapter ten
Sam marched into the kitchen and asked “Hello?” before carrying the cordless phone down the hallway, into the bedroom, and closing the door behind him. Sydney tried to ignore his stern demeanor and turned back to Jorie, who still babbled at a mile a minute.
“Have you ever read the Quinn Jones series? My Betrothed? It is epic. The main character is this badass empress who beds men and then sends them packing, and one day this hot wanderer finds her getting herself off in a field. . . .”
With one ear on Jorie, she desperately tried to hear through the bedroom wall to Sam’s low, grumbling conversation. She heard a distinct, I don’t know, Liv, but everything else was an angry mutter.
“You want another beer?” Jorie asked, carrying their empty venison stew bowls into the kitchen. She returned with two bottles of Stone IPA. “Sorry, we’re out of Bud. Sam drinks this stuff that might put hair on your chest. Tastes like black tar to me.”
A tiny smile found its way to Sydney’s lips. Stone was one of her favorites.
“So, um,” Sydney said, careful to choose the proper detached tone for this question. “Does Sam’s girlfriend live here? This place kinda looks like a bachelor pad to me, but there’s an extra toothbrush in the bathroom, and I can’t imagine he’s the one buying lavender-scented hand soap.”
Jorie slowly swallowed a mouthful of beer, licked her lips, and settled back into the armchair. She scratched her nose with the back of her hand and picked at the beer bottle label before speaking.
“Olivia,” Jorie said. “She’s not his girlfriend. Anymore.”
Just as Jorie opened her mouth to continue, the bedroom door creaked open. She shrugged and nodded toward the approaching footsteps. Sam burst into the living room, his cheeks filled with angry color and his eyes blazing.
“Everything all right?” Jorie asked.
“Fine.” He noticed the bottles in their hands, and the storm on his face passed. “Gosh, are we out of piss
beer?”
“I don’t know how you drink this,” Jorie said, her face twisting as if she were drinking straight grain liquor. “I feel like I have to chew it. And it makes me want to smoke. So thanks, Sam.”
She rose to her feet and smacked his arm before joining Matt and Greg on the porch. As the door closed behind her, a fuzzy silence filled Sydney’s ears. She wanted to know who Olivia was, if she lived in Sam’s house, and, most of all, what about this mystery had her so riled up.
Sam ran a hand over his beard and rested his gaze on Sydney. “Need anything?”
“No,” she said. She scolded herself for the tiny mouse voice that squeaked out of her mouth. Where was the powerhouse woman who shut him down when he offered her a ride home from Utz’s? Who was this insecure person swimming in his clothes and acting like a scared little girl? It was too much like the woman she’d been with Connor.
Somehow, though, this was different. Sam exposed her true self, leaving her open and vulnerable. Connor had made her feel ashamed until she decided to hide, tucking herself away into a shell of what he wanted her to be. With Sam, there was less fear, more exhilaration. Like the biggest roller coaster in the park.
Sam’s mouth curved into a half smile. She squeezed her thighs together to quiet the drumbeat pulsing between her legs.
“Music?” he asked.
“I knew this party was missing something.”
He headed toward the dining table, where a record player she hadn’t noticed before sat on top of a beat-up hutch. In the space where dishes should’ve been sat rows and rows of records.
“Sorry, I don’t have any Rihanna or Drake,” he said, kneeling down and flipping through the vinyl.
“Even after all our hangouts, you’ve still got me pegged as a basic bitch, huh?”
When he stood upright, a soft breeze carrying his pine-and-cinnamon scent wafted up to greet her. His dark eyes glowed in the dim cabin light.
“Nah. You’ve managed to surprise me once or twice.” His voice was gravel under slow-moving tires. It carried through her brain and down into her rib cage, snuggling up there and finding a home next to her lungs. If she didn’t move away soon, she’d ask him to kiss her again. And this time, she wasn’t drunk.
Wild Love Page 8
