When Sydney called to tell him she’d nicked the shelf with the claw edge of a hammer, she sounded apologetic. As if the shelves were an extension of him. He’d spent a lot of overtime helping her revamp her store. And he didn’t regret a single moment of it.
“Where’d your head go, brother?” Jared said, interrupting Sam’s thoughts. “I think you actually smiled there for a second.”
Sam forced his features into a neutral expression. “Nowhere. I’m gonna go, all right? My head is killing me.”
“Yeah, of course. You want to get a beer tomorrow night?”
“Can’t.”
Jared waited for his brother to elaborate, but the silence stretched on. “You dodging me or something?”
“No,” Sam said. “I’m helping Sydney at the shop tomorrow night, and we have to wait until after closing.”
A smile spread over Jared’s lips. “Who’s Sydney?”
“Karen Walsh’s daughter.”
“Oh, yeah, okay,” he said. “Sydney, right. Greg’s got a different name for her.”
From the frat-boy glint in Jared’s eyes, Sam didn’t want to hear it. “Greg’s an asshole.”
“Either way, dude, I hear she’s smokin’ hot.”
Sam clenched his jaw, the headache turning sinister. Jared had ended up in the bed of nearly every single woman in Pine Ridge under the age of fifty at one point or another. The last thing Sam wanted was his charismatic brother pawing around Sydney.
“Sure, whatever. She’s trying to help Karen get the store out of the red, so I’m helping her with some maintenance stuff.”
Jared took a step backward and crossed his arms over his chest, the same shit-eating grin pressed into his face. “What are you charging her for all this work?”
“I can’t charge her. She’s broke.”
“Oh, okay, so you’re just doing this out of the goodness of your heart?”
Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep his cool. Jared knew him better than anyone. He’d seen him in his darkest moments, held him as he broke down just once over the death of his mother, and lent a supportive ear whenever Sam needed it. Jared knew when he was lying, when he was out of sorts, and when he was attracted to a woman. He also knew all of Sam’s buttons and exactly how to push them.
“Anyway,” Sam said. “I’ll meet you for a beer at six tomorrow night at Utz’s. And I’ll go to Sydney’s afterward.”
“Ah, yeah, that makes more sense anyway. You want to be a little loosened up before you make your move on her, right?”
Sam turned on his heel toward the truck door. “Now I’m really going. Good night, dork.”
* * *
• • •
Aside from the occasional thud of a glass on the worn wooden bar or the droning voices of the six o’clock news, Utz’s was quiet. This time of year the tourism stream dried up and locals spent the cold, snowy nights avoiding the icy roads. As much as Sam loved his solitude, he knew it was better for his mental state if he got out every once in a while and socialized. A beer with his brother was as good an excuse as any.
“Jäger bombs!” a deep baritone voice boomed from behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Jared. Patty DiOrio sat at the other end of the bar, sipping her White Russian and rolling her eyes at the town’s resident goofball.
“Bud Light, please, Hank,” Jared said as he slid onto the barstool next to Sam. He shook the big wet snowflakes from his black wool peacoat. “It’s winter, dude.”
“Nothing gets by you.” Sam sipped his oatmeal stout and shifted his weight on the wooden stool. Somehow the drink tasted better when he knew it was his only one of the evening.
“I’m surprised it took so long,” Hank said, setting a bottle of Bud Light in front of Jared. “We’ve been lucky so far.”
“I dunno, snow brings the skiers and snowmobilers,” Sam said. “It’s good for everybody if the town has more people in it.”
“Good for your new girlfriend and her store,” Jared said, nudging Sam’s elbow.
Rage bubbled up in Sam’s gut, and before he could stop himself, he reached forward and grabbed the front of Jared’s crisp white shirt. His brother’s eyes grew three sizes as he tried to back up but couldn’t because of Sam’s death grip.
“Don’t,” Sam said. His voice hissed. “You know better.”
Visions of manic texts from Liv danced in his head. Is there someone new in your life? If you don’t want to help me, then fine, but please don’t embarrass me in the process. I can’t handle that on top of everything else.
He relaxed his fingers, but the stiff fabric of Jared’s shirt held the wrinkles, a reminder of the warning.
“Relax,” Jared said in a whisper. “Holy hell, dude.”
“Oh, so this is what you stood me up for?”
Her voice carried across the bar like the melody of a folk song, and the sound lifted Sam’s gaze to the door. Sydney brought a wave of cold, fresh air with her as she ruffled her wavy chestnut hair and clinging snowflakes disappeared from the tresses. Despite the quip, she grinned.
“I did not stand you up,” Sam said. He tried to force the blood from his cheeks, but his brain wasn’t responding. “This is my brother, Jared.”
Sydney slid onto the stool next to his brother and tucked her chin, sending Jared a timid smile. “Hi.”
“You must be Sydney,” Jared said, extending his hand. Sydney shook it once.
Sam kept his radar up for any sparks that might fly between his good-looking but goofy little brother and the woman he’d developed an unhealthy interest in. Sydney appeared nonplussed, but Jared’s gaze dove straight into her low-cut T-shirt.
“Ah, yes, I must be.” Sydney pursed her lips and raised a single dark eyebrow.
“What does that mean?” Jared asked.
“She’s all butt-hurt because she’s been here almost a month and nobody’s mistaken her for a local yet,” Sam said.
“Well, uh, it looks like you have all your teeth, so no, I’d say you’re no local.”
Jared flashed his signature lopsided grin at Sydney, and once again, Sam waited for the reaction. But she simply looked at Sam and raised the same eyebrow as if to say, Is he cool?
“You closed the store early?” Sam asked.
“Yeah,” Sydney said, her posture caving. She reached for the IPA that Hank had pulled her, even though she hadn’t asked for it. She might never look like a local, but she was well on her way to becoming one. “No sales today. Not a single one. I even turned down the heat around three o’clock and wore my coat in the store in case it saved me a few bucks.”
“Wow, that’s bleak,” Jared said. He drained his beer bottle and motioned to Hank for another.
“A round of shots, please,” Sydney said. “Your finest tequila, sir.”
“No way, not for me,” Sam said. “I’m using a belt sander tonight.”
“Forget the shelf,” Sydney said through gritted teeth. “Like it’s really going to make a difference.” Hank set down three shot glasses. Before the liquid had a chance to settle, Sydney grabbed the glass and tossed back the shot.
“Hit me,” she said, staring at Hank with cold, even eyes.
Hank glanced at Sam, as if to ask permission.
“He’s not my babysitter. I said hit me. Please.”
Jared audibly inhaled. Sam could see his brother’s appetite whet. Sydney was exactly his type. If only she wasn’t Sam’s type, too.
Hank poured Sydney and Jared another round of shots and then quickly capped the tequila bottle and reshelved it. Sam knew Hank had seen one too many skinny women vomit in this place to encourage another.
“So what’s the plan for the store?” Jared asked.
“Jorie and her mother are spreading the word around town about the redirection,” Sydney said, running a hand through her hair.
“And then after Thanksgiving we’re going to promote the book section and the book club full throttle. I’ll have free snacks every day, I’m having fliers printed up, I’ve got a new giveaway lined up for each day of Thanksgiving weekend, and our first book-club meeting will be December fifteenth. We’ll see what happens from there.”
“Do you have a plan if this doesn’t work?” Jared asked.
Sam punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow, dude. What’s your deal?”
“It’s okay,” Sydney said. She touched the hair at her temple and dragged it through her perfectly manicured fingers. When had he started noticing things like nail polish? “I’ve definitely thought about it. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work. My goal is to have three meetings between now and January 31. If by the end of January we don’t see a serious uptick in sales, my mom will have to close the store.”
And you’ll go back to New York City. She’d barely scratched the surface of Sam’s life and yet envisioning it without her caused a lump in his throat.
“It’s tough around here,” Jared said, taking a swig of his fresh bottle of beer. “It’s weird because Pine Ridge should have an Aspen vibe with all the tourists and the kitschy shops and all that. But for some reason it has the stink of failure.”
“It does not,” Sam said.
He knew how his brother felt about the town. Jared was simply building a reputation for himself before he jumped ship and headed for Utica or Albany to make some real money. He didn’t want him poisoning Sydney’s mind on Pine Ridge just yet.
“Most of us around here don’t want it to be Aspen,” Sam said. “Overrun with tourists most of the year and real estate prices skyrocketing. It’s quiet here. That’s the best part about it.”
“Yeah, well, the quiet is also the reason people like Karen Walsh can’t make a go of it,” Jared said.
Sydney’s lips turned down, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Hey, Hank. One more, yeah?”
Annoyance roiled in Sam’s gut. The fucking booze. “Slow down. So you have a tough road ahead with the store. It’s not worth drinking yourself to death over.”
“Hey, big brother, if you’re gonna be a total buzzkill tonight, can you hit the skids?”
“Yeah, hit the skids,” Sydney said. Her face screwed up as she sucked on her slice of lime. “Who says that anyway?”
After her third shot of tequila, her eyelids drooped. She leaned back on the barstool and ran her hand through her hair, surveying the empty bar. Even Patty DiOrio had finished her White Russian and gone home.
“Shouldn’t we get to the store soon?” Sam asked, checking his watch. It was still early, but if Sydney had anything more to drink, this night would be worthless. His patience for drunk women was already painfully low.
“Forget. The. Store,” Sydney said, punctuating each word with a jab of her finger. “I’m super busy forgetting about the store right now.”
“One day without customers and you’re drinking your sorrows away? You’re pretty easily defeated.” As soon as the words left Sam’s mouth, he regretted them.
Her bottom lip quivered. If looks could kill, she’d be on trial for murder in the first degree.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dad.” Her words melted together as she lifted the pint glass to her lips and took a long drink while maintaining eye contact with him. It was a challenge.
“All right,” Sam said, pushing himself off the barstool. “Have a great night, you two.” He threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, grabbed his coat, and left.
chapter twelve
Well, that hit a nerve.” Jared’s voice swam through the air and hit her brain like a lazy cartoon dart. She turned her drunken gaze on his symmetrical face. Clean-shaven. Is that what Sam looked like under the beard?
“He’s a moody prick,” Sydney said.
“That’s my brother.”
“He acts like he knows everything, but he doesn’t know anything. I literally watched with my own eyes as the man I moved in with and compromised myself for and turned into a freaking Stepford Wife for stuck his penis inside some woman who was not me. Literally saw them having sex. When he thought I was out of the apartment for the day. Does Sam know shit about that? No.”
The tequila had hit her with the force of a Mack truck, and she heard the words wobble and slur and drop off her tongue like the last fat raindrops in a storm. She licked her lips and tasted salt. Great. And now I’m crying.
“You all right?” Jared asked, handing her a napkin. His face was so perfectly smooth. He was young. But how young? A woman’s hand reached out and gently fingered his earlobe before tracing down his jaw and landing at the crisp collar of his shirt.
She gasped. It was her hand. What the hell are you doing?
“I’m a mess.” She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned over the bar, resting her head in her hands. She immediately sat back upright. She was too drunk for closed eyes and a lowered head.
“You got cheated on, huh?”
“Yeah.” She reached for the beer to soothe her cottonmouth. “I thought he was kind. I thought he was some sort of white knight, saving me when I really needed to be saved. But he tricked me. Turns out he was just a really good liar, and I didn’t actually know him at all. But he didn’t know me, either. He wanted me to be someone else.”
Jared nodded, leaning in as she spoke.
“Who could cheat on you?” His voice was barely a whisper. He reached out and tugged at a hair caught in the corner of her mouth. “You’re gorgeous.”
“You must be blind,” she said, her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m half in the bag and crying in an empty bar. I’m wearing my mother’s old sneakers, and I haven’t washed my hair in two days.”
“Well, it’s working for you,” Jared said with a laugh. “Seriously, Sydney. You’re one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Anybody who can’t see that must be a total idiot.”
“Hey-uh.” Hank approached, a wet dishrag in his hand and a tight-lipped expression on his face. “She all right?”
“I’m fine. Why shouldn’t I be? So I’m a woman. I can hold my liquor, all right?”
Jared ran a hand over his mouth, and when he leaned back on the barstool, a cool calm replaced the wolfish eyes he’d had for her earlier. What once appeared to be desire now came off as concern.
“Let me take you home,” he said.
Through bleary eyes, the bar tilted and spun, shifting around Sydney like the walls of a fun house. Her stomach churned, and she choked down what might’ve been the beginnings of vomit. “I’m not gonna sleep with you.”
Jared’s eyebrows shot into his forehead. “Yeah, I know. I thought maybe I’d drive you home so you don’t pass out on the street somewhere.”
Soupy visions of a distraught Karen surfaced in Sydney’s mind, and she shook her head, nearly losing her balance and toppling off the stool. Jared snatched at her arms, righting her with a strong grip. He was so much like Sam in so many ways.
“Sometimes I think your brother hates me.” Hot tears brimmed her eyes.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jared said. “He doesn’t hate anybody. Even the people he should.”
With some finesse, he helped her to her feet and draped her coat over her shoulders as her eyelids drooped. “Don’t take me home.”
“Don’t take you home?” he asked.
“No.” The vomit threatened again, and she coughed, refusing to allow herself that weakness. “My mom. I don’t want her to see me like this. She’ll never let me hear the end of it. She already thinks I’m a stuck-up bitch. I can’t let her think I’m a lush, too.”
“All right.” Jared’s gaze darted around the bar, as if someone else might take her in. But the bar was empty. “Come on. Let’s go. We’ll figure it out.”
The icy wind nipped at her cheeks and chin the moment the bar door
opened, but the cold did little to revive her. Jared wrapped one hand around her waist, and the other fumbled with the key fob. Moments later, they cruised through downtown, Sydney’s head lolling forward as the alcohol threatened to pull her under.
She blinked, and suddenly Jared was helping her out of the car, guiding her over the slippery front walk of a squat white ranch home with darkened windows.
“I’m not gonna sleep with you.” The voice that croaked past her lips sounded like a distant recording. It was someone else from another world.
“Jesus,” he said. “What kind of sicko would I have to be to try to have sex with you now, you crazy woman?”
The world brightened and darkened, and then there was a bed and a pillow and darkness reigned.
* * *
• • •
Sydney forced open her gummy eyelids, and fuzzy shapes came into view. Dark gray light bathed the room in an eerie glow, but even as her vision cleared, the space remained foreign. Generic particle-board desk. Basketball hoop attached to the closed bedroom door. A ripped John Stockton poster next to the single window.
She propped herself up on the squishy old pillow and ran her tongue over her teeth. Her mouth tasted like gym socks. Where the hell was she?
Still wearing her winter coat, she creeped out the bedroom door and down the carpeted hallway toward a light. When she turned a corner, her heart hammering away against her ribs, she saw a man. Jared. Sam’s brother. Legs crossed, feet resting on a sagging maroon ottoman, with a paperback open on his lap.
“Hi.” As she spoke, he looked up and pressed his lips into a smile.
“Hey there.”
Snippets of the evening tumbled into her memory, but the one that stood out was his frowning face as he helped her to his guest bedroom and asked if she needed a water before closing the door behind him.
“I’m so sorry.”
He shook his head and shrugged, setting the book down on the floor and rising to meet her. “Don’t sweat it. We’ve all been there.”
Wild Love Page 10
