Love You Forever (Serendipitous Love Book 5)

by Christina C Jones

  Love You Forever

  Copyright © 2015 Christina C. Jones

  Cover art by Christina Jones

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real locations, people, or events is coincidental, and unintentional.

  Two years after leaving the neighborhood to pursue an opportunity she couldn’t pass up, Sydnee Scott is back. She’s smart, sassy, and maybe a little bit spoiled, but she’s ready to reclaim her place in her family, and in the family business…

  Or not.

  That spot is currently filled by Harlan Ramsey, head manager. He came to Stacks – the man, and the restaurant named after him – looking for connection, and he got it, in the form of a surrogate family. He’s frustratingly handsome, charming to the point of annoyance, and according to her father, Sydnee is supposed to think of him as her brother.

  Seriously?

  She’d rather not think of him at all.

  They used to be friends, and were almost more before a betrayal shifted them apart. Sydnee has been comfortable in her anger for two long years, but when her father requests that they work together, they’re forced to confront how they really feel for each other. A decision has to be made: remain at odds, or give in to a love that has always been brewing, before it’s too late to matter?

  Nasi, Jeanette, Dominique, Carolyn, Ashley, LeShonda, Melody, Alexandra, Theresa, Nichelle, Porsha, April…

  Thank You !

  One.

  “Welcome to Stacks, pretty ladies. What y’all havin’ today?”

  The women on the other side of the counter’s eyes went wide when I spoke, and they glanced at each other, exchanging grins before they gave me their attention again.

  “Can you say that again?” one of them asked, flipping thick, wavy hair over her shoulder as she leaned over the counter.

  I suppressed a smile. “Beg pardon?”

  They exchanged another look, and the one who hadn’t spoken before chimed in. “Beg pardon,” she repeated, giggling as she touched her friend on the shoulder.

  Fine #1 had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and was looking at me like she wanting to sop me up with a biscuit. “What y’all havin’ today,” she said, with an exaggerated southern drawl that was supposed to mimic mine. “Say it again.”

  “Aw, come on now,” I laughed. “Y’all can’t be teasing a man about his accent. I can’t help it.”

  Fine #2 sucked her teeth. “Can’t help it? Why would you want to? Looking like this, and sounding like that. Boy please. You need a southern belle?”

  “I do make a good sweet tea,” Fine #1 added.

  I shook my head. “Well, in that case… What y’all havin’ today?”

  The two women made the same “Mmm.” sound in unison, then turned to laugh at each other. “We’ll both have a short stack.”

  I nodded. “With the bourbon maple cream sauce, and pecans, right?”

  Fine #1 smiled. “Actually, I don’t think we’ve ever tried them like that… have we?” she asked, turning to her friend.

  “Nah, just plain syrup is fine.”

  I put a hand to my chest like I was wounded. “Plain syrup? Now why on earth would you want plain syrup, when you could have Vermont maple blended with Kentucky bourbon, stirred in with freshly whipped heavy cream, reduced over low heat to the perfect consistency, then poured over Stacks’ famous pancakes, loaded with brown-sugar roasted pecans?”

  “Well damn. When you describe it like that…”

  I grinned. “I thought so. And you need a couple of slices of our signature maple-cured, pecan smoked bacon on the side, right?”

  “How about,” Fine #2 started, leaning forward so that her – nice, might I add – breasts were practically sitting on top of the counter. “You hook us up with whatever you think is good… and let me know how we can hook up after hours for something even better.”

  I lifted an eyebrow and tried not to give in to the smile playing at the edges of my mouth. “While I do appreciate a woman who is bold enough to ask for what she wants, I’m afraid I have to decline the second half of your suggestion. I’m a faithful man, darlin’, and someone has already captured my heart.”

  There wasn’t – as of a few weeks ago, when I got accused of being emotionally detached, and smacked in the face for not seeming sorry enough about it – a particular woman who had my attention, but I tried not to make a habit of sleeping with customers. If I had to tell a little fib about being attached, so I could let them down easy… so be it.

  She smiled. “Well, darlin’, I’m not asking about your heart. I’m asking about your d—”

  “That is unavailable as well,” I said, firm but still pleasant, even though I was a little annoyed on my fictional lady’s behalf.

  She and her friend both groaned. “Lucky girl. Just the food is fine then. Are you going to write our order down?”

  I shook my head. “No need.” I turned around, facing the kitchen behind me and grabbed an apron from the hook at the beginning of the line. As I tied it on, I turned to see my customers watching with their eyes wide.

  “Oh, you’re just showing off now,” Fine #1 said, shaking her head. “You mean to tell me you’re about to cook the food too?”

  I smiled as I lifted my shoulders in a shrug. “I do what’s necessary around here, ladies.”

  Behind me, someone sucked their teeth. “Harlan, are you up here harassing the customers again while I’m on break, man?” Jamar clapped me on the shoulder as he came to stand beside me. “Why don’t you move along, and let me show these ladies how it’s done?”

  “Hey, who trained you, young man?” I asked, chuckling as I turned to him.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Young man? Like we’re not almost the same age?”

  “Boy please, I’m a legend around here, you can’t compare yourself to me,” I joked, shaking my head at Fine #1 and Fine #2.

  Jamar nodded, grinning. “Okay, okay, you might have done the teaching, but that don’t mean the student can’t surpass the master.”

  I scowled. “Surpass the master? Do y’all hear this? Kids these days, you know?”

  “Oh, I know plenty about arrogant-assed kids these days,” a deep voice rumbled behind us. I knew without turning around that Sidney “Stacks” Scott would be standing behind us with his arms folded, looking sternly at Jamar and me, wondering why one of us didn’t have our ass at the grill. “Ladies… these two knuckleheads aren’t out here disturbing you, are they? You’ve been taken care of?”

  Fine #2’s face took on a sly smile as she cut her eyes in my direction. “Well, not exactly in the way I’d have liked, but the service has been great. And…,” she glanced at Jamar, then giggled with her friend. “It looks like a new prospect may have just arrived, so… we’re good.”

  Stacks smirked a little, then shook his head at us. “Well, if the order is taken, where is the food? Let’s see those skills you two are boasting about. Or do I have to show both of you who the real legend is around these parts?”

  Stacks and Jamar kept going with their back and forth as they went to the grill, but I looked up as the door opened. I pulled the apron from around my neck, and started to give the customary “Welcome to Stacks” greeting, but the words died on my lips when I saw who’d walked in – easily the baddest chick on the planet.

  Smooth, glowing skin, the same rich, creamy color as the brown-sugar pecans we offered as pancake toppings. Perfect little upturned nose and perfect pouty l
ips on a perfect heart-shaped face. Her hair was thick and glossy, straightened into sleek, blonde-tipped layers that complimented her pretty face and rested around her bare shoulders.

  Her big brown eyes landed on me, and her upper lip curled a little. Her eyes went wide like she wondered why I was looking at her – apparently, she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror – and then she cut them away from me and walked to the opening in the counter that led into the kitchen.

  Her soft coral dress fit closely over her breasts and stomach, then flared out to barely skim mid-thigh, showing off more of her pretty brown skin. If I could just switch places with her dress, I’d be a happy man.

  “Daddy,” she said, and a huge smile spread across Stacks’ face before he turned around, opening his arms wide to pull her into an embrace.

  “Short Stack!” he bellowed as he hugged her tight, lifting her up off the floor. “Why didn’t you tell your old man you were coming to town?”

  She smiled that perfect smile of hers as Stacks lowered her back to the ground. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Well, you certainly achieved that.”

  Behind him, Jamar – with his thirsty ass – cleared his throat, and Stacks glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, Jamar, this is my daughter. Sweetheart, this is Jamar, our new grill cook.”

  Jamar frowned a little. “New? I’ve been here almost two years.”

  “Yeah, but she hasn’t been here in that long. So you’re new to her,” I said, moving my hands to my pockets.

  Stacks chuckled. “And of course, you already know Harlan.”

  Subtly, she rolled her eyes up to the ceiling, then let out a quiet sigh. “Of course.”

  “Hey now, don’t be like that,” Stacks said, touching her arm.

  Instantly, she took on her innocent expression again. “Don’t be like what, Daddy? Where’s mama?”

  “Back office.”

  She pushed herself up on her toes, planting a kiss on her father’s cheek before she shot me one last hostile look and flounced through the doors that led to the office.

  Sydnee “Short Stack” Scott was apparently still not a fan of mine.

  Two years later, and I guess she was still mad.

  Of course I was still mad.

  I’d been mad for two years, and would be for the foreseeable future, because Harlan “Hot Cakes” – ugh – Ramsey could kiss my ass. I didn’t care how fine he was, with his bronze skin and great smile and chiseled features, and that damned dimple in his chin, and…. and… screw him!

  Hmph.

  I took a deep breath, then smoothed my hand over the front of my dress, willing my heart to stop racing. I was still upset with him, yes, but… there was a different still lingering in my conscience. A still that was the exact opposite of being pissed at him, a still I thought I’d long tamped into the depths of hell, where any feelings for him belonged. Two years should have been long enough to get over a friendship that obviously didn’t mean much to him, right? That was more than enough time to move past a stupid, one-sided crush.

  Right?

  I pushed out another breath, then took the few steps it would take to lead me to the office. I didn’t bother knocking, just pushed open the door and smiled when my mother looked up from her work. At first, her expression was annoyed over the interruption, but then she registered who I was, and her mouth spread into a big smile.

  “Sydnee, my baby!”

  I walked right into her arms as she stood and extended them to me, breathing in the scent of maple syrup that had lingered around her as long as I could remember. “Hi Mommy,” I mumbled against her face, then pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “More water, fewer pancakes, and longer walks,” she teased, stepping back to look at me. “I’m working on converting your father. How are you, baby? And what are you doing here?”

  I smiled. “I’m wonderful, mama. Now that I’m home, that is.”

  “Home?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “As in, home home?”

  I nodded, and she let out a loud shriek, then pulled me into another hug, swaying back and forth.

  “Hey now, what’s all this commotion?”

  My face was buried against my mother’s chest as she hugged me tight, so I couldn’t answer, but she did. “Sid, she says she’s coming home. As in home home!”

  She finally released me from her embrace, and I took a second to suck in a much-needed breath as I turned to face my father, who was looking at me with wide-eyed confusion, instead the excitement I’d hoped for.

  “What do you mean, coming home? What about –?”

  “What about nothing,” my mother interrupted, shooting an ugly look at my father before she turned back to me. “Why didn’t you call so we could get your room set up for you?”

  I smiled. “Well, I wanted to surprise you guys. And I don’t really need my room set up.”

  “Why not?” My father crossed his arms over his broad chest, his demeanor quite different from the greeting I’d received outside. “I know you don’t plan to be homeless.”

  “No,” I said. “I do not. I actually have an apartment, and I’m all moved in.”

  My mother frowned. “An apartment?! Why on earth would you do that when you have a perfectly good room at home?!”

  “Because I’m twenty-six years old, mom. I’ve lived on my own the last two years, and I prefer it to living at home. Just like most other adults,” I said gently, touching her arm.

  Her nostrils flared, and she pursed her lips together, then turned back to my father. “Sidney, talk to her!”

  “How do you plan on paying for an apartment, Short Stack? If you’re moving back, doesn’t that make you jobless?”

  I swallowed hard, then squared my shoulders. “I guess it does. Good thing I was careful with my earnings and built up some savings until I find something else. I have a roommate too, so I think I’ll be just fine. And I’ve already spoken with Charlie and Nixon about a position when Pot Liquor reopens. They told me that the job is mine, so….”

  “Oh. Well good. Who is this roommate? Not some stranger from the internet, I know.”

  I chuckled. “No, dad. Quinn is a good friend I met in New York. I brought her with me.”

  His eyebrow went even higher. “Friend? What kind of “friend”?”

  “Not that kind of friend,” I said, shaking my head. “She just needed a little change, and I wanted to come home, so she came along.”

  My father grunted. “So you’re throwing your future away, tossing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity in the trash because you and your little friend “needed a change?”.”

  “How am I throwing away my future?”

  “By leaving a Michelin-starred restaurant to work at some trendy neighborhood start-up!”

  My forehead wrinkled into a scowl. “That “trendy neighborhood start-up” is almost as integral to this community as Stacks. That’s actually probably the same thing people used to say about you. And I left that Michelin-starred restaurant with the full blessing and support of the head chef. He gave Charlie and Nix a glowing recommendation about me, and told me he would share the same accolades with anyone else who called. Just because something is a great opportunity doesn’t make it the best one. I wasn’t happy. Being here, being home is what makes me happy. And I… I thought you’d be happy that I was back.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat as I turned to my mother to hug her. It had taken me to the limits of my emotions to walk into this restaurant at all without bursting into tears, and now that I was here, I wasn’t about to stand around and be scolded over the choices I’d made for my life.

  “I should probably go check on Quinn,” I told my mother, willing my eyes not to well up with tears. “I promised I’d show her around today, and she’s probably hungry, so I’m going to go pick her up. I’ll see you later mommy.”

  “Just a minute now,” she said, refusing to release me from our embrace. “Sidney!”

  My father took a
deep breath, then pushed it out as a heavy sigh. “We are happy to see you, Short Stack. I just wish you’d discussed this with me before making such a huge decision.”

  “And I just wish you’d trust me to know what’s best for myself.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve lived a helluva lot longer than you.”

  “And learned from the very same mistakes you won’t give me a chance to make, daddy. I need to be able to stand on my own, at some point. I have to start deciding for myself, and… I decided that moving back home – back to my neighborhood… was best for me.”

  Our eyes met, and for a long moment, he just stared at me, with open disappointment in his eyes. Then he blinked, gave a slight shake of his head, and met my gaze again. “Okay. Okay, sweetheart. I accept your decision.”

  I ignored the twinge of annoyance that crept through my head at the fact he thought I needed him to accept my decision, and stepped into his waiting arms when he extended them for a hug. He squeezed me tight, then planted a kiss on top of my head. “I love you, Sydnee. You understand that your old man only wants the best for you, right?”

  “Of course daddy,” I nodded. “I love you too.”

  I settled into the warmth of my father’s embrace and closed my eyes, soaking him in. The love I felt from a simple hug seeped into my pores, drowning out the lingering resentment I’d held for the last two years.

  We’d seen each other, spoken, visited, of course. And I put on a happy face, played the part of dutiful daughter, although inside, bitter anger pulsed in my core. I was tired – so, so tired – of living within the bounds of what he wanted for my life. I was appreciative, of course, that my parents had always wanted – and provided – the best for me. But… at what point did I get to start making decisions, instead of having them made for me, without being seen as ungrateful? When did I get a say in what path I took next, instead of having the journey pre-charted for me?

  Two years ago, my father had proven that if it were up to him, I never would. And like a puppet, I swallowed it and went along.