“And you’re ready now?” Dad asked.
“I think so,” Rylee said. “But Dad, I can’t continue to lie about you either. I can’t continue to pretend. I have to tell the truth when people ask about you. You have an addiction. A gambling addiction.”
Dad’s eyes darkened with emotion. “It’s not right to continue to lie to people.”
Rylee stepped closer to her father. She smiled faintly. Her father still wasn’t ready to admit to his gambling addiction. But she couldn’t continue to live the lie.
From outside, a car door slammed, and Raisin barked.
“Your ride is here.” Rylee picked up Dad’s black bag. She followed him to the front door. Her insides felt light, as she left behind a weight she had carried for years.
In the living room, Dad turned to her. “Let me know when you’re going to marry that Shuster boy. I’ll be there to walk you down the aisle.”
“Oh.” Rylee flushed. “I don’t know…”
“Yes.” Dad wiggled his eyebrows at her. “You will marry him, and it won’t be too much longer. I predict I’ll be back in time for a summer wedding.”
Dad leaned over and kissed the top of her head. Then he opened the door and walked to the driveway, where a black town car’s headlights shone across the lawn.
Dad gave her a final wave and slipped into the car. Raisin nosed his head into her palm. She leaned down and buried her face in Raisin’s fur, unwilling to see the car pull out of the driveway. Dad planned to get back to Cranberry Bay, but she knew how his gambling addiction worked. She might never see him again.
“Rylee!”
Startled, Rylee lifted her head as Bryan hurried up the steps.
“Is everything okay?” He kneeled down beside her and gazed into her eyes.
Dad left,” Rylee said. “But yes, everything is okay.”
Bryan reached out his hand. He linked his fingers with hers and helped her to a standing position.
“Why don’t you come in, and I’ll explain everything?” Rylee said.
* * *
An hour later, after enjoying Rylee’s homemade chicken noodle soup and thick, cranberry bread, Bryan towel-dried a bowl and placed it on the counter. Rylee picked it up and their fingers touched. She smiled at him as the candle on the counter reflected the light in her eyes. Rylee had always been beautiful, but now her face reflected a new brightness, and her body moved a little bit more easily as it was finally free from the emotional confinement she had been in for years.
Bryan’s conscience tugged at his chest. He never wanted to lie to Rylee. She had been bathed in lies for so long. He never wanted to see her hurt because of something he failed to tell her. She deserved so much more than half-truths, lies, and deceit. It was what she’d lived with all her life, and he wouldn’t continue the pattern. Bryan folded the towel and cleared his throat.
“Rylee,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
Rylee stepped closer to him. “Yes?”
Every part of him cried out to stop now before it was too late. He could tuck the bet with Sawyer into the recesses of his mind and forget about it. But he couldn’t. There would be someone, somewhere who would tell her. He loved her too much to lie, and he had to tell her the truth, even if that truth meant she walked away from him for good.
“I haven’t been honest with you about something.” He looked over her head and out the darkened kitchen window.
A shadow slid over Rylee’s face. She crossed her hands over her chest.
Bryan’s chest hurt. He would do anything to take that look away, but he pressed forward. “When you first arrived in Cranberry Bay, Sawyer made a bet with me about you.”
“A bet?” Rylee’s voice sounded fragile. “About me?”
“I’m not proud of this,” Bryan squared his jaw.
Rylee’s mouth parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything.
“I needed money to fund the riverboats. The banks wouldn’t loan me anything. I had no credit history for something like the casinos.” Bryan swallowed hard. “Sawyer bet me that if I could convince you to stay in Cranberry Bay, he would give me the funding for the riverboats.”
“I was being used as a pawn in a bet? The time we spent together in…” Rylee’s voice trailed off. The hurt was evident in her eyes.
“No.” Bryan exploded suddenly. He wanted desperately to explain himself. “How I felt about you wasn’t a lie. I was lying to myself. When I saw you on the highway, I told myself I wasn’t still in love with you. I was lying to myself because I didn’t want to feel the hurt again when you left.”
Rylee’s eyes softened.
“But the truth is…” Bryan said. “I never stopped loving you, and I want you to know. I tried to marry someone else and go on with my life, and it didn’t work. I want you to know I have always loved you.” His voice broke in the emotion of his words.
Rylee took a step toward Bryan. She ran her hand down his face. “Did you win the bet?”
“I lost,” Bryan placed his hand over hers. He covered her small one with his large one. “I called it off. Sawyer agreed to fund the riverboats as a corporate sponsor.”
Rylee stepped closer to him. “You won,” she said quietly. “It just wasn’t the bet you expected to win.”
Bryan gazed down at her slightly parted mouth. He whispered against her cheek. “You’re right.” He placed his lips on hers. “I won the best bet of them all. I won your love.”
Look for the second book in the Cranberry Bay Series in June 2016.
Please enjoy the first chapter of Mindy’s Young Adult Romance, Weaving Magic
Chapter One
Shantel
I read the letter and stuck it in my purse. My heart pounded but there was nothing I could do about any of it right now. The best thing was to pretend nothing was wrong, just like I always did when trouble found me. I pasted a smile on my face and pulled open the screened back door of the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread and coffee brewing always made me grateful Mia owned a bakery and not something like a fish market. I spent a lot of time at the bakery. Mia relied on me to help out when she had to be at home with baby Owen. I didn’t mind so much. After I’d pop the muffins or scones into the oven, I could usually steal a few minutes to work on homework.
I grabbed an apron from the red hook by the large stove and slipped my purse under the counter. Tying the apron around my waist, I made my way to the front. Funny, there were no customers. Usually, on a Saturday morning, the bakery was packed. But before I could say anything, Mia appeared in front of me with a tray of chocolate truffles. Her dark curly hair framed her round face, and her eyes were shadowed with dark circles.
“Try one?” she asked.
“Mmm…” I took one of the chocolate balls, as the bright red painted tulip on the tray caught my eye. Mia believed tulips should be everywhere. Tulips sat in small, red and blue vases on the round bakery tables. Tulip pictures covered the walls of the bathroom—both men and women. There were even sugar cookies in the shape of tulips. Mia thought tulips were the best way to remind people the small valley town had something special to share.
Local folks knew if it weren’t for the tulip festival, tourists would never stop in Riverview. They would just keep driving past on their way up to the Canadian Border. But every spring, around Easter, the annual Tulip Festival drew millions of people to the fields to snap pictures of the colorful red and yellow blooms. People crowded the shops and restaurants, and sometimes, some of them returned later in the year to enjoy a peaceful weekend strolling around the brick buildings and poking into the boutique and antique shops.
The chocolate oozed around inside my mouth and I bit back a moan. Mia never made chocolate truffles unless there was something special, like a wedding or an engagement party. She always said chocolate was too much work for a small bakery. “What’s the occasion?”
“It’s for… “Mia bit down on her lip and swallowed hard. Her face paled and the dark circles
seemed to stand out even more.
I touched Mia’s shoulder gently. I loved Mia and I never liked to see her hurting. She was only eight years older than me and more like a sister than an aunt. But Mia and I handled life very differently. Now, as her shoulders shook. I wanted to tell her to just pretend life worked out. Pretend everything was fine. Just like when we were kids, and Mia and I pretended to set up our own bakery. And look what happened. Mia owned the best bakery in town.
Wasn’t it enough for chocolate candy to be delicious? Did we really have to talk about the reason for the chocolates? I picked up a paperback romance lying on the counter. I moved my tongue over my lips, in what I thought might pass for a slow, sensual movement the authors wrote in the romance stories I loved. I even let out a small sigh as if the chocolate was as good as a kiss. I didn’t ever tell anyone that, although I am fifteen, the only kissing I ever did was at Adam's seventh grade party. And that kiss was only because Adam made a mistake in the dark and thought I was Courtney. When he found out it was me, he quickly pulled away and muttered something like, “Wrong girl,” before he scrambled towards the kitchen. Mortified, I pretended Adam really did like me, and he’d just needed to run to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“I miss her,” Mia said. “I know the chocolates won’t bring her back. But…” She blinked back a small tear in the left corner of her eye. “I just miss her.”
Stop. I wanted to reach out and shake Mia. Just stop. We don’t have to talk about this. We can play the pretend game. My pulse pounded. We needed to play the pretend game. “What’s this about?” I asked brightly as I flipped the pages of the paperback. “A pirate who captures a maiden? Two people who hate each other and are stranded at an inn by a snow storm? You know the last one we read was really good.” Play along with the pretend game, I pleaded silently. Please. Pretend. It will all be better if we can just pretend.
Mia pulled out a tissue from her apron pocket, and blew her nose. The tissue looked pretty scruffy and I thought she could use a new one. Quickly, I turned and grabbed my purse from under the counter. I loved my bag. I’d found the scrap material in an old costume box left outside the children’s theater. ‘Free’ was printed in bold black letters across the top. It’d been easy to sew it together, and the purse was roomy enough to fit everything—especially my romance paperbacks.
I grabbed a bag of tissues and my tablet. I couldn’t wait to show Mia how I would be reading the romances. “Look what I bought,” I said as I pressed the on button. “Do you know how many romance books I can hold at one time?” I’d already loaded the reader with five romance e-books.
“I like my books,” Mia said, and sniffed.
“But, this keeps what I read secret.” I winked. Everyone always assumed that, as the State Science Champion of the Year, I would be reading something scientific and factual. But my favorite stories where about kind Sebastian sweeping independent and feisty Cassandra off her feet. Mia introduced me to the world of romance. It didn’t take much to hook me, and I convinced Mia to form a book club that only read romance. Each month, we met at the bakery and dove into the steamy love stories. Romance book club was my favorite part of the month. I could have lived and breathed romance books. “So what are we reading this month?”
Mia wiped her eyes, and tucked the tissue back into her pocket. “I’m not sure about the title, but I think the main character is a scientist.” Mia slid the chocolates off the tray onto a thin platter.
“Perfect.” I’d been dreaming how, one day, my own Sebastian would walk into my life, and I’d have my happily ever after. Oh, we’d probably fight at first—isn’t that what happened in all romance stories? But then, we’d see how happy we made each other, and live happily ever after.
Mia reached under the counter and pulled out a small stack of gold embossed paper cups. She sat down on a red stool, behind the counter, and began to wrap each piece of chocolate in the paper. With her left hand, Mia pushed the paper cups toward me.
“Where is everyone this morning?” The tables didn’t have a single crumb or used cup on them. The tins of coffee were all still full.
“Street fair,” Mia said.
“Right!” I was supposed to help at the Children’s Theater Street Tent. I took a quick look at the watch on my wrist. The watch bracelet was a gift from Dad and I rarely took it off. On my thirteenth birthday, we had gone into Seattle and spent the day walking through Fremont and Wallingford looking for just the right gift. When we’d gotten home, instead of lying in bed, Mom made dinner and set the table with her special blue and gold china. That day was one of the good days.
“Shantel,” Mia said softly. “If you want to talk…”
“I’m fine.” I waved my hand airily at her. “You know,” I said, “today could be the day when I find my happily-ever-after.”
Mia only gave me one of her looks, and I grimaced at her. Finding a happily ever after was much easier than thinking about those chocolate truffles or letters.
* * *
By the time the town square clock chimed one o’clock, I was a sweaty mess and we’d run out of the stepping stones at the Children’s Theater street fair tent. Both the theater’s manager, Gloria, and I had been busy since the booth opened. Children and parents packed the tables and I didn’t see how either one of us could leave to fetch more stones from the hardware store across town.
On the other side of the booth, Gloria helped a young girl insert a broken dish piece into mortar on a stone. The girl’s anxious mother stood nearby. My throat closed and I quickly looked away.
Don’t think about it, I admonished myself, and smiled at Gloria. Unlike Mia, Gloria would not pester me about today. Gloria and Mia had been best friends for as long as I could remember. They attended high school together, and both decided to stay in Riverview. Gloria ran the Children’s Theater and always needed to raise money for the shows. Each year, Gloria thought of a different art project for kids and their parents. The projects were collected during the day and, at night, sold at a hundred dollar a plate auction. Last year, we used blank canvases people could paint. The year before Gloria found a local glass artist who was willing to teach people how to blow glass balls. Although that hadn’t really worked too well, as most people wanted to keep their glass balls and not auction them off.
I lifted a stepping stone onto the table, took a step backward, and promptly crashed into a warm chest.
“Umfh,” I managed. Embarrassed, I stepped away and looked up into bright blue eyes, and a face that was instantly familiar.
“Christopher,” I breathed.
I could never forget Christopher. I’d met him two years ago as an eighth grader. By a strange twist of good luck, Christopher had been my partner in French. Every time he looked at me, or our hands accidentally touched, I knew he liked me. I couldn’t wait until the year-end dance. I’d been dreaming about it since December. Christopher would take my hand, and lead me out to the dance floor. He’d wrap his arms around me and tell me I was the only girl for him. Of course, we’d be together forever.
But things hadn’t exactly happened that way. Instead, the dance had barely started before Christopher disappeared like a magic trick. I spent most of the night trying to pretend I was having a good time when, in reality, all I could do was wonder what happened to him. It was one time when, I have to admit, the game of pretend did not work very well. When the dance ended, we all rushed outside, only to find Christopher being escorted into a police car. He could barely stand and the rumors immediately started he’d been caught using drugs. I refused to believe it. Not the Christopher I knew. He’d never use drugs.
But by the fall, Christopher was gone. Everyone said his mom had him transferred to the private high school. I had been devastated. All my dreams of being with Christopher in high school were shattered.
Now, here he was, and I could barely breathe.
“Hi,” Christopher said, and smiled at me. “Good to see you.” He touched my arm briefly and shivers ran
up and down my insides. It was fate that we met again.
Fate.
Christopher absently picked up a spatula covered with hardened mosaic goop. “Ladies and Gentleman.” He waved the pretend wand in the air.
Immediately, a small crowd gathered outside the tent. I smiled. It was just like eighth grade. Christopher was charming everyone. I stood a little taller next to him.
Christopher inserted his ungloved hand into a plastic bucket and scooped up a large handful of mortar. He rubbed the mortar over his hand. The thick gooey substance spread between his fingertips.
“Wait…I wouldn’t…”
“Yes?” Christopher raised his eyebrow at me.
I giggled. Christopher looked just like our French teacher, Mrs. Pierce, who gave us a similar look when we flubbed another French word and turned it to garble. “Mortar hardens fast,” I managed to say, as I grabbed a rag from the back table.
Christopher waved his hand in the air as if a hand covered with hardening mortar was all part of the show. A gaggle of giggling ten-year- old girls inched closer to him. How many other girls had Christopher entertained since I’d last seen him? Was there someone who he called a girlfriend?
“I’m a statue!” Christopher froze. He raised his hands to the sky. Out of the corner of his mouth, he whispered, “Hand me that rag.” He winked at me. “I think I may have gotten myself in a mess.”
Quickly, I grabbed the turpentine and cloth Gloria kept on the back table. Christopher reached out for a stepping stone and sent them crashing to the ground.
I froze.
Everyone in the tent turned to stare at us. I knew my face was turning shades of purple. I hated being the center of attention. It was okay for things like Science Fair award ceremonies where I only had to shake someone’s hand and take the ribbon. But to be center stage because of something bad was unthinkable.
“I’ll fix it,” Christopher muttered as he leaned over and lifted the broken pieces from the ground. They were equal in size. It was as if someone had taken a knife and simply sliced down the middle. I was mesmerized by his hands and the gentle way he held the stones. What would it feel like to be in his hands, being held so gently? I shivered.
Sweetheart Cottage (Cranberry Bay #1) Page 17
