Any Time You Need Me

by Farrah Rochon

  Any Time You Need Me

  The Moments in Maplesville Series

  Farrah Rochon

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Also by Farrah Rochon

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Farrah Roybiskie

  All rights reserved.

  Cover by Mae Phillips of CoverFreshDesigns.com

  Edited by Karen Dale Harris

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-938125-23-2

  Chapter 1

  Reaching into the bed of his Ford F-150, Sam Stewart lifted the section of fencing he’d fashioned out of driftwood that he’d picked up from the banks of the Pearl River, and carried it inside the auditorium at Maplesville High School. The place was abuzz with activity now that preparations for this summer’s community theater production had been kicked into high gear. Sam would rather sit through two straight hours of back-to-back root canals than sit through a musical, but he’d volunteered to help build the set for this year’s production.

  It’s what his dad would have wanted.

  The local arts council had come to rely on Charlie Stewart’s yearly donation of both time and materials, which he’d given readily, without fail, since the theater’s inception eight years ago. His dad considered his work with the community theater a thank you to the people of Maplesville for patronizing his cabinet-making business for over three decades.

  Sam wasn’t a carpenter by trade, but he’d worked alongside his dad for years in the workshop behind his parents’ home. Now that his dad was no longer here, Sam had taken it upon himself to continue Charlie’s legacy of giving back.

  He spotted the theater director, Taylor Mitchell, standing center stage, surrounded by a group of teens, her hands moving enthusiastically about as she described something to the group. Some of the teens Sam recognized, but there were a few non-locals. The community theater wasn’t strictly limited to those from Maplesville. Ever since Taylor had moved here and taken over the summer productions, they had become so elaborate that they attracted theater hopefuls from around the region.

  “Sam!” Taylor waved at him and pointed to the left side of the stage. “You can put it there. I’ll be over in a minute.”

  By the time he’d leaned the fencing against the wall, Taylor was at his side. She entwined her arm with his and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek.

  “This looks perfect,” she said.

  “Uh, thanks.” Sam hoped his smile didn’t look as uneasy as it felt as he delicately extricated himself from Taylor’s hold.

  This was why, for just a moment, he’d considered backing out on his offer to help with the set. He’d known working with Taylor would be a problem. Too much history there.

  Although, in the grand scheme of things, there actually wasn’t much history between them. He and Taylor had only dated for a few months about a year ago—if one could call him showing up at her place whenever he needed to get laid dating. Some might consider him a bastard for being so callous, but he felt zero guilt about his time with Taylor. He’d been up-front with her from the very beginning. Sam recoiled at the idea of an intense relationship on a good day. Back then, he hadn’t been in the right headspace for even a casual one, but Taylor insisted she was okay with that.

  When it became apparent that she wanted more, Sam tried to break it off. He might be callous, but he wasn’t in the business of breaking hearts. But Taylor had been persistent. And when she’d continued to let him inside for those late-night booty calls, Sam hadn’t turned down the invitation.

  Okay, so maybe he was a bastard.

  He took a couple of steps to the right, creating some distance between himself and Taylor. He lifted a spiral-bound memo pad from his back pocket and pulled the carpenter’s pencil from behind his ear.

  “I got the sketches you emailed, but I’ll need a rundown of the entire set so I can get started.”

  “Well, as you know, we’re doing Porgy and Bess—a musical version, not operatic.”

  Sam shrugged. He didn’t know shit-all difference between a musical and an opera.

  “Does it affect how the set will be built?” he asked.

  “Oh, not at all,” she said. “So, Porgy and Bess takes place in this fictional fishing town called Catfish Row. It’s set in the 1920s. Most of our production will take place in the center of the town.” She wiggled both hands toward the wall behind the stage. “Students from Maplesville High’s Gifted and Talented Program are painting a backdrop that will cover this entire wall, but we still need several 3-D props. The fencing—which is terrific, by the way—and the facade of a small house, including a porch. Oh, and a wooden pier. But it needs to look really distressed.”

  Sam nodded. “I know where I can get some old but sturdy lumber.”

  One of his best friends, Dale Chauvin, had just started work on the home where his girlfriend, Nyree, grew up over in St. Pierre, a couple of towns over. He and Nyree’s brothers were adding a bathroom. He’d get Dale to bring him the clapboard siding they’d removed from the house.

  Sam thought about the lumber that had been sitting in his dad’s old workshop for well over a year, but the air in his lungs evaporated just at the thought of entering that building. He wasn’t ready.

  “So, do you think you’ll have all this done by opening night?” Taylor asked. Before he could answer, she slapped his chest and said, “I’m just teasing. I know you can handle it.” She stepped up onto her tiptoes and gave him another peck on the cheek. “You’re amazing, Sam. Thanks so much for taking this on.”

  Sam fought to hide his grimace. He would have to put an end to Taylor’s flirting before she got the wrong idea.

  As they made their way around the stage, Sam took inventory of everything he would need to build over the next month. The summer musical was scheduled to run for an entire week at the end of July, but Taylor wanted at least one week of full dress rehearsals before opening night.

  He knew he could count on his two best friends, Ian and Dale, to help with the set building if he got into a bind, but for the most part Sam was on his own. It was a good thing he didn’t have to punch a clock at his day job. As a software developer and database specialist, he did most of his work from his home office. He could build the props during the day, and catch up on his various work projects at night. He would be exhausted by the time he was done, but it felt good knowing he’d continue this tradition his dad had started years ago.

  Sam had just sat on the edge of the stage to finish up the list of materials he would need when the doors at the front of the auditorium opened and she walked in.

  Aubrey Laurent.

  All the air rushed out of his lungs. Even though he’d been preparing himself for this moment ever since he heard she’d returned to Maplesville two weeks ago, it still felt as if he’d been clubbed in the chest with a two-by-four.

  What else had he expected after seeing her face for the first time in a decade?

  No, that wasn’t true. He’d seen her face a few times over the years—not that he’d searched for it. But in a town as small as Maplesville, it was hard to avoid news when one of its own did something on a national scale. Even when that person left town shrouded in scandal.

  There had been a watch party at
the high school when she made her national debut a few years ago, singing backup for a rising R&B star on the Grammy Awards. He didn’t attend. He also forbade Ian and Dale to talk about it in his presence. Truth be told, Sam could have gone the rest of his life without ever seeing Aubrey’s face again.

  Her niece, Felicity, who attended the Intro to Coding class Sam taught every other Saturday morning at the local library, led Aubrey down the center aisle. They were heading straight for him. He wanted to move, but he was rooted where he sat.

  Halfway down the aisle, Aubrey’s eyes connected with his, and she stopped.

  It was as if time hit a brick wall.

  Sam didn’t know how many seconds passed as they continued to stare at each other. The chatter surrounding him ceased as all of his focus zeroed in on Aubrey.

  The moment she resumed her trek toward the stage, Sam pushed himself up and went in search of Taylor. He found her exactly where he’d hoped she wouldn’t be, near the piano. That was naturally where Aubrey was headed. If there was anything music-related, Aubrey would find her way to it.

  “Hey, Taylor,” Sam called. “I need to get going.” He held up the notepad. “I think I have enough info here to get started, but if I need to clarify anything else I’ll give you a call.”

  “No problem, Sam,” Taylor said with a smile as bright as the midday sun.

  He could sense Aubrey’s approach. His skin started to tingle, as if a million stickpins were poking at his flesh.

  Sam caught her straight, dark-brown hair from the corner of his eye and something in his brain snapped. That’s the only way he could describe what happened. He’d obviously lost his mind, because without thinking he took Taylor by the wrist, pulled her to him, and kissed her dead on the mouth. A full-on, opened-mouth kiss, complete with tongue.

  “I’ll call you later,” he said loud enough for anyone within a ten-foot radius to hear. Taylor stared at him with wide-eyed amazement, and Sam immediately felt like the person that the scum of the earth looked down on.

  He released Taylor then turned and walked right past Aubrey, not bothering to acknowledge her. But he didn’t miss the look on her face as he walked by.

  Surprise. Resentment.

  Hurt.

  Yeah, there was no doubt about it. He was definitely a bastard.

  * * *

  The crowd at The Corral was pretty tame for a Friday night, though that had become more common lately. The bar, a long-standing institution in Maplesville, had seen a steady decline in patronage as competition increased from the influx of chain restaurants that had made their way into town. Sam knew it wasn’t good for business, but he preferred the smaller crowd. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with people tonight, especially the people who felt compelled to come over and voice their sympathy over him losing his dad.

  It had been three months. He was sure everyone in town had given him their I’m so sorry for your loss, but every time he stepped outside he discovered there were still more sorry people.

  “You need another ginger ale?” Ian Landry asked, tapping Sam on the arm so he could let him out of the booth Ian had commandeered before Sam and Dale had arrived at The Corral.

  Sam finished off the last of his soda before handing the glass to Ian. “Extra ice,” he said.

  The urge to ask that the bartender pour a little Jack Daniels in the glass was so strong that Sam’s hand instantly started to shake, but he balled his fist on the tabletop and sucked in a deep breath. It wasn’t as if Ian would go along with it anyway.

  Sam was ashamed to even think about how, after his dad’s diagnosis, he’d allowed himself to get so close to the edge of the cliff. He was lucky as hell he hadn’t fallen off.

  But he’d gotten close.

  He never would have guessed how easy it was to go from casual drinker to alcoholic, but it had been amazingly easy. Two shots of whiskey in the morning did wonders to dull the pain, and drinking himself into oblivion at night was the perfect way to block out bad news from the doctors.

  Ian and Dale managed to pull Sam back from the edge. It was a daily struggle not to go down that road again, but he’d remained completely sober for almost six months now.

  Yet even losing his dad after a two-year battle with ALS hadn’t given him the urge to drink as much as seeing Aubrey had today. Just conjuring her name made Sam want to dive behind the bar and drink whatever he could get his hands on straight from the bottle.

  His eyelids slid closed and her gorgeous face immediately popped into his head. Those deep-set, warm brown eyes and those full lips that used to drive him crazy. Skin as dark, rich and creamy as the Guinness Irish Stout he would kill to be drinking right now.

  “Shit,” he whispered.

  “What the hell is going on with you tonight?” Dale asked.

  Sam’s eyes popped open. He looked across the table at one of his best friends on the planet, a man who knew nearly everything about him, but he couldn’t voice what he was feeling right now.

  Dale, who would have been making quarterbacks shit their pants in the NFL if not for a bad hit during his final game as a star middle linebacker in college, just stared at him, his eyes narrowing in a way that told Sam he was about to meddle. He was in no mood to deal with a meddling Dale.

  He knew one way to derail the conversation.

  “How’s everything going with Nyree’s new salon?” Sam toyed with the soggy edge of his napkin.

  A smile broke out over his friend’s face. Dale’s girlfriend, Nyree Grant, had opened a salon and spa in the old Whitmer House on Silver Oak Drive, which Dale had helped renovate.

  “Nyree’s kicking ass and taking names, though that shouldn’t be a surprise,” Dale said.

  “You two haven’t gone off and gotten married like that one over there did, have you?” Sam nodded toward Ian, who’d just returned with their drinks. Sam got out of the booth so his friend could slide back in.

  A few months ago, Ian and his then girlfriend had gotten married while attending a cupcake bake-off competition in Vegas. His new wife, Sonny, who’d come to Maplesville last year intending it to only be a pit stop on her way to bigger and better things, was now the town’s premier baker.

  Dale shook his head. “It’s too soon to start talking about marriage. When we do, I can promise it won’t be a quickie Vegas wedding. Nyree’s friends will demand the real deal so they can all be honor matrons.”

  “Matrons of honor,” Ian said. “And it’s only the married friends who hold that title. The rest are bridesmaids.”

  Sam and Dale both stared at their friend with their mouths open.

  “What?” Ian asked. “You guys don’t watch Say Yes To The Dress?”

  “I’m starting to hate you,” Sam said.

  Ian burst out laughing. He was such an asshole.

  Dale snapped his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot. Harding Construction just won a bid for a new strip mall on a stretch of Highway 421 between Gauthier and Maplesville. Is Sonny still looking at that storefront not too far from where your bike shop will be for her bakery? Or do you think she’d consider a different location?”

  “Neither,” Ian said. “With the baby coming, we decided it’s not the best time for us both to open up new businesses.”

  Sam nearly choked on the ginger ale he’d just sipped. “Dammit, man. You want to stop dropping these bombshells on us like this?”

  “What?” Ian said again, his face the picture of innocence. But the grin that edged up the corner of his mouth proved the jerk knew exactly what he was doing by casually unleashing such major news.

  Once the initial shock wore off, they all shared high-fives and toasted to Ian’s impending fatherhood with their non-alcoholic beverages. But Sam’s good mood didn’t last long. Because at that moment, the front door of The Corral opened, and Chandra Reynolds walked through it, along with her best friend in high school, Aubrey, who looked even more amazing than she had at the school auditorium earlier today. With just a quick glance Sam could see how the da
rk red lipstick brought attention to her lips, and how those tight denim jeans did the same for her hips.

  “Great,” Sam groused.

  “What’s up?” Dale looked over his shoulder in the direction where Sam was looking and nearly fell out of the booth. “Holy shit. Is that who I think it is?”

  Ian leaned over to get a better view. “Oh, man. I heard she was back in town, but I just brushed it off as a rumor.”

  “Nah, she’s back,” Sam said, his lips thinning with disgust.

  “Do you know why she came back after all this time?” Dale asked. “I mean, it’s been ten years since that…uh…thing happened.”

  Sam glared at him. His friends knew better than to mention the incident involving Aubrey that rocked Maplesville just before she left. It was not to be mentioned. Ever.

  But Sam wasn’t naive enough to think that it wasn’t being discussed by others now that she was back. The scandal she’d caused had kept tongues wagging for months after she’d hightailed it to California. She hadn’t had to deal with the fallout. Sam, on the other hand, had been subjected to stares of pity, or worse, people laughing at him behind his back, for the entire summer after high school graduation.

  Dammit. Why in the hell had she brought her ass back here?

  He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. As far as Aubrey was concerned, the only thing he cared about was when she would be leaving town.

  “So, have you talked to her since she’s been back?” Dale asked.

  “Hell no,” Sam said. Nor was he planning to.

  Earlier, Sam had been paralyzed with panic when he discovered they would both be working down at the community center. But he doubted it would be difficult to avoid her. He figured after this afternoon, when he’d tongue-kissed Taylor in front of her, Aubrey wouldn’t be in a rush to talk to him either.

  God, he needed to apologize to Taylor for practically mauling her in the auditorium today. He also needed to set the record straight. He didn’t want her getting the wrong idea about their relationship status. Basically that there was no relationship, and there would never be one.