“Okay, well, whatever you choose is fine.” She clutched the beer bottle and went back to the couch, putting a safe distance between them. He stared at her for a moment before turning back to the records and plucking one from the bottom shelf.
As the evening wore on, the tower of empties accumulated in the recycling bin, Matt’s and Greg’s voices grew hoarse with each chorus of “American Pie,” and Sydney settled further into the warm, comfortable space that smelled like Sam.
When Jorie yawned and announced she should get going if she was ever going to get up to open the bakery in the morning, Sydney’s belly ached. She missed Sam’s place already.
Sam drove them all to the morning’s drop-in point so they could reclaim their cars and go on their respective ways. The boys bounced around, freezing in the truck bed, and Sydney sat squished in the passenger seat next to Jorie, wishing she was in the middle instead.
The cluster of cars came into view at the roadside, and Sam pulled over before turning his hazards on. Sydney hopped down to the road, still hesitant to break away from the happy group, and rounded the front end of the truck to grin at Sam and send him a quick wave.
“Thanks for hosting today,” she said.
His hand lingered on the steering wheel as he leaned his other elbow on the ledge of the open window, closing the space between the driver’s side and where she stood next to the truck. Maybe he didn’t want the others to hear him. She reveled in the closeness.
“Anytime you want to go kayaking, let me know. And you don’t have to rent one; I’ve got a couple in my shed.”
She grinned. “Why didn’t you tell me that for today?”
He shrugged and dragged his hand across his mouth. “I kinda thought you’d bail on today. You don’t strike me as the outdoorsy type.”
“I’m starting to wonder where you got all these crazy ideas about me.” She took a step closer to the driver’s side door as if drawn in by magnets. Being close to him was dangerous but exhilarating. “I only eat salads; I don’t like the outdoors; I’m inexplicably a fan of Rihanna. I bet you think I only drink coffee from Starbucks.”
“Nah, I don’t even really think about you all that often.” The words didn’t match the subtle smirk on his face.
“We both know that’s not true.” Her voice came out huskier than she’d intended.
Or had it?
“Yo, Sydney!” Greg’s voice snapped her concentration, and Sam sat back in his seat, the devilish smile all but erased from his features.
“Yo,” Sydney said as Greg joined her next to the truck. The headlights from Matt’s pickup illuminated Greg’s silhouette as the couple pulled away with a honk.
“So, uh.” Greg placed his hands on his hips and shuffled his feet before turning to Sam. “Hey, uh, thanks for today, man. We’ll see you later?”
Sam swallowed as his eyebrows lowered and his gaze darted from Greg to Sydney. He was being dismissed. “Yeah, sure thing. See ya.”
He put up his window and drove three feet before the truck stopped again. Sydney waited for him to lean out the window again or hop out of the truck, but he simply sat there, the engine idling and the brake lights casting Greg in a shadowy red glow.
“Hey, um,” Greg said, dropping his gaze to the dirt road beneath his feet. Sam’s truck hadn’t moved. “I was wondering if you’d like to get a drink with me. Just the two of us.”
“Oh, gosh.” Her voice was a whisper.
The wounds from Connor were still so fresh, and the thought of going on a proper date made her queasy. Beyond that, she wasn’t attracted to Greg. He was perfectly nice, but his teeth were stained tobacco-yellow, he’d made more than one lecherous comment about her appearance, and when he looked at her, all she felt was uncomfortable.
“I know you just broke up with somebody,” he said. He still wouldn’t meet her gaze. “And I know you might leave town soon. But I’d love to take you out. Just have some fun.”
Sydney took a deep breath. “That’s really sweet, Greg, and I’m really flattered. But I just think it’s too soon. I’m not ready to date anyone quite yet.”
He looked at her finally, his eyebrows two sad quotation marks framing droopy puppy-dog eyes. She almost said yes just to erase that face.
“That’s okay,” he said. “I understand.”
“I do like you, though,” she said. “I hope we can still hang out and be friends.”
“Of course.” He nodded emphatically, leaning his whole torso into it. “Sure thing. Drive safe, all right?”
He scrambled into his black SUV and peeled out into the night. After the dust had settled, Sam’s window came down and he poked his head out.
“Did Greg finally make his move?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.
“Oh, you knew about that?”
“No offense, but Greg hits on anybody with breasts.”
Her cheeks grew hot, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Earlier that afternoon, she’d stood in the doorway of his bedroom and the devil on her shoulder had whispered, Drop your arms. She knew the T-shirt was see-through. But he’d been stealing glances at her all day long, and the tingly sensation that gripped her heart and stomach when she caught him was addicting. She’d upped the ante. He hadn’t seemed to mind.
“There you go, making assumptions about me when you really have no idea.”
He shook his head and let out a loud laugh. “Whatever you’ve got going on, Sydney—Rihanna fan, salad eater, your anatomy—it’s fine by me.”
He licked his lips, lowered his gaze. It was just the two of them along this deserted road. An isolated bubble where anything was possible. Her legs pulsed with excitement.
Calm down, crazy. This harmless flirting is melting your rational brain.
“Okay, well, anyway,” she said, unlocking her car with buzzing fingers. “See ya later.”
He waited until she was safely in her car and on the road before he pulled out and drove away.
* * *
• • •
Syd, is here good?” Jorie had arranged the featured titles near the register by dominant cover color, and the rainbow of offerings made Sydney’s heart swell. The turquoise blue of His Other Lover led to the shocking pink of Roses Are Red, and tucked in between, the electric yellow of Sydney’s new personal favorite, The Royal Who Saved Me.
“Perfect,” Sydney said. “That royals book is so good.”
“Told you!” Jorie chirped, clapping her hands and standing shoulder to shoulder with Sydney. “I mean, he bucks every family tradition and follows the Duke of Harlington to the front lines. A gay World War Two love story. What’s more romantic than that?”
It was eight o’clock in the morning and two weeks had passed since Sydney had told her new friends about her idea to save the Loving Page. In those two weeks, she’d revealed the plan to her mother, who’d reluctantly agreed, as long as she didn’t have to put up any of her own money. In response, Sydney sold her BMW and vowed to use as much of the resulting cash to turn the shop into romance land. A large chunk of the money had gone to purchasing romance-book stock, which Sydney occasionally borrowed as her romance obsession grew. Something about the promised happily ever after soothed her in a way she hadn’t known she needed.
Before she announced the idea of the book club, the shop had to look impeccable. She wanted to get the word of mouth going about the store’s new focus before she asked people to commit to a meeting.
In recent days, many an early morning and very late night, Sydney found herself alongside Jorie or Sam or both, mopping the floors, dusting the shelves, and washing the windows. She’d replaced harsh overhead lighting with glowing floor lamps, arranged clusters of spicy cinnamon-scented candles on every available surface, and even added a rack of book-related T-shirts in the far corner. As soon as the shop started making money, the Real Women Read Romance shirt
was hers.
“This place looks amazing,” Jorie said, glancing around the shop. She’d begun referring to it as the Loving Page 2.0: Romance Rebooted. “It has style, but it’s not pretentious.”
Sydney had condensed all other genres, expanded the romance titles to cover the entire back wall, and transformed the main space into literary heaven with a little red velvet sofa, brass candlesticks, and a vintage Persian rug she’d found on Craigslist. She envisioned the book club crowded around the area, deep in discussion over that month’s selection.
The crowning jewel of the space was the wall of bookshelves that Sam built. She’d run into him at Utz’s one evening, and after a few drinks she told him her vision for the space, which included an updated version of Karen’s collapsing particle-board shelves. Without hesitation, Sam offered to build the shelves. When she asked him how much she owed him, he’d laughed.
“You’re a godsend.” Sydney wrapped her arm around Jorie’s shoulders. “I just really hope this works.”
“Let people hear that the store has changed, their interest will be piqued, and then we’ll throw out the idea of the book club. Between me at the bakery and my mother and her big mouth at church, you’ll have everyone in town clamoring for a space by next weekend.”
Sydney tugged her wool cardigan tighter around her. She’d started turning the heat off overnight to save money on the gas bill, but the chill when she walked in every morning gave her second thoughts. It was barely November, and snow already covered the ground.
“I have to run home before we open,” Sydney said. “I forgot my computer, and I have a lot of social media work to do today. Building these handles from the ground up has not been the easiest task.”
“Stop by when you get back and I’ll have coffee for you. Oh, and don’t let me forget to give you that copy of Under His Watch. Cannot believe you’ve never read Miranda Sands!” Jorie shook her head as she slipped into her coat. “It’s a crime.”
Sydney rode the red Schwinn the short distance to Karen’s apartment and hurried inside for warmth. Soon it would be too cold and snowy for the bike, and what then? One thing at a time. She forced the thought from her head as she took two stairs at a time and entered the apartment before releasing an animal scream.
“Jesus Christ!” Reclined on the couch were her mother and Yuri, and had it not been for Yuri’s generous size, she definitely would have seen more than her memory would ever let her forget. She stumbled back into the hallway, yanking the door shut and racing down the steps.
She huddled against the front of the apartment building, her heart racing and her palms clammy. Within moments, her mother appeared in front of her. Her face was lined with worry.
“Suds!” she yelped, clutching an old flannel robe closed at the neck.
“Mom.” Sydney rested her face in her hands. “Oh my God, Mom. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You couldn’t have known. I thought you were gone for the day.”
“I forgot my computer.” The words were muffled as she continued to press on her eyes, begging the image of Yuri’s pudgy mass out of her mind. “Oh God, that was awful.”
“Oh, stop,” Karen said. “It’s natural. I’m a human being, Suds.”
Sydney took a deep breath and looked up. She finally said out loud what she’d been thinking for a while. “Look, if I’m going to be here for at least another few months, maybe I should get my own place. You need your privacy.”
“Don’t be silly!” Karen’s eyes flew open. Her mascara was smudged, and Sydney looked away, desperate not to envision her mother in any additional sexual scenarios. “We’ll just come up with a code or something. I’ll hang a sock on the door!”
“No,” Sydney said, shutting her eyes again. “Trust me, Mom. It’s better this way. I’ll find a short-term sublet close by, and it’ll be better for both of us. Okay?”
“At least let me start paying you for your work at the shop. You can’t pay rent with no income.”
“You don’t have any money to pay me with. And I have that money from selling the car. I’ll be fine. I just need to know that you’re okay with this. I don’t want you to think I’m leaving because I don’t like spending time with you.”
It wasn’t a line. Without noticing, Sydney had begun to enjoy her mother’s company. They actually talked a little about the past, and when they did, Karen explained how she’d been a young single mother and had done the best she could. The shame of judging her replaced Sydney’s shame of not having had the newest backpack. How had she missed it before?
“Oh, stop,” Karen said. “I don’t think that at all. Even if you’re a few minutes away, it’ll be more time than I’ve spent with you in years. I’m very blessed.”
Sydney nodded, unable to find the words to agree with her mother. She felt lucky, too. Lucky that not a single additional day had passed where she’d pushed her relationship with Karen aside.
chapter eleven
Sam wiped a greasy hand on the pant leg of his coveralls. The single bulb hanging over his head wasn’t the best light to see by, but the throbbing headache that had plagued him since lunch required minimal brightness.
“Hey yo, fuckwad.”
Sam looked up from the engine of Freddy O’Connell’s Dodge Ram in time to see his brother check out his own reflection in the shop window as he passed. Jared was only twenty-five years old and still had a young man’s bravado.
“Nice to see you, too,” Sam said, turning back to the truck.
“I’m joking. How can you see in here?”
“I could probably do this blindfolded.”
Jared leaned against the driver’s side door of the truck but pulled away immediately to examine a smudge on his navy blazer.
“Did Aunt Nancy call you?”
“No, what is it now?” Sam grumbled.
“She wants us to go to her house for Thanksgiving.”
“Sweet old Aunt Nancy—always worried about the poor orphaned Kirkland boys.” Sam knew it was the first Thanksgiving since his mother passed. He didn’t need Aunt Nancy to remind him.
“We should probably go,” Jared said. “The thought of her and Uncle Tony eating deli turkey in their kitchen alone is depressing as hell.”
“All right, fine.” Sam tightened the oil filter and slammed the hood of the truck down. Jared leaped backward to avoid any errant dust or dirt that might further soil his favorite blazer. Always such a pretty boy.
“Is Liv gonna be in town? Maybe she and Jay would want to come? Or will she do Thanksgiving with her family?”
“I don’t know what she’s doing.” The words came out gruffer than he’d planned, but he didn’t have the energy to explain himself. He yanked the chain hanging from the single light bulb, bathing the shop in darkness. Two fingers of bourbon and a dark porch called his name.
“Jesus, I’ll kill myself in here,” Jared said. “Where the hell is the door?”
Sam opened his phone to light the way for his fragile little brother. Even as a kid Jared hated to get dirty and always preferred video games to touch football or fishing in the creek. Now, as a Realtor, he used his slick swagger to convince people to spend way too much money on property, while his wardrobe remained pristine in a clean white office.
After Jared followed him out, Sam clicked the lock on the shop door and headed toward his truck. On any other night he’d have asked Jared back to his house for a drink. Tonight, he just wanted to escape.
“Hey,” Jared said. “Hold up.”
Sam turned, the lonely moon casting shadows on his brother’s familiar face. Jared was a few inches shorter than Sam, but despite that, the five-year age gap, and Sam’s dark beard, the family resemblance was undeniable.
“What’s up?” Sam said.
“Are you all right? You seem off lately.”
“I’m fine.” Just spendi
ng way too much energy convincing myself I didn’t make the biggest mistake of my life by offering help to Liv.
Jared rolled his eyes. “Is it Liv?”
Shit.
“It’s not Liv.”
“’Cause anybody in their right mind would be stressed by that situation. Her living with you, the kid, the weird custody shit with her ex . . .”
“It’s not Liv.” Let everyone, including his naive brother, think that he could handle a little situation like Liv. After the year he’d had, he could handle anything. Did he want to handle Liv? That was a different story.
Jared held his hands up in surrender. “Is it Mom? It’s gonna be weird spending Thanksgiving without her.”
“Yeah, it is. But I’m working on accepting it. Last year, spending the day with her in hospice wasn’t exactly a holiday to remember, either.”
Sam feared it was the only version of the holiday he would remember. He and Jared had brought the entire meal with them to his mother’s room, but the overpowering scent of antiseptic and death in the hospice care center had prevented any of them from eating a single bite.
Jared nodded and ran a hand over his face, trying to hide the tears glistening in his eyes. “That might’ve been more depressing than not having her around, actually.”
“All right, come on.” Sam laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’ll bring some old photo albums to Aunt Nancy’s. Remind us of some of our less miserable holidays. Okay?”
Jared cleared his throat and pinched the bridge of his nose. The grin tugging at his lips reminded Sam of his brother as a kid, always one disappointment away from tears. Their childhood hadn’t been perfect, but at least they’d had each other.
The headache pulsed behind Sam’s eyes. Maybe he’d skip the bourbon and go straight to bed. He had to be up early to get all the shop work done so that at night, he could stop into the Loving Page after it closed to sand down the busted shelf.
Wild Love Page 9