My Heart Lingers
(A Hearts of Misty Mesa Story)
BWWM Interracial Romance
Brandi Boddie
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Cover design by For the Muse Design.
My Heart Lingers.
Copyright 2015 by Brandi Boddie.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be resold, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Piracy is illegal. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, dialogue, incidents, and places either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To my angelic ones
Chapter 1
Kyra pulled her rented Chrysler 300 into the driveway of her parents’ home. She had two weeks to get the house ready for sale. Judging by the uncut lawn, weeds growing in the parched rose bushes, and the broken porch swing dangling by one chain, she couldn’t waste a moment.
She turned off the smooth jazz channel playing on the car’s satellite radio and cracked open the windows to keep the interior from frying in the bright Texas sun. The world was quiet around her. Sparrows chirped from the elm tree in the front yard. Other birds sang from the neighbors’ yards.
Kyra got out of the car and scanned the old street of Mulberry Way where she used to live. Houses with big shade trees and cactus gardens lined both sides. The town of Misty Mesa remained small and quiet, even after ten years had passed since she last saw it. She remembered when she was eighteen years old like it was only yesterday.
“Kyra? Kyra Grayson, is that you?” A woman’s familiar voice made her turn. The top half of the petite lady’s head barely cleared the wooden fence.
“Mrs. Banks, how are you doing?” Kyra greeted her old neighbor. Mrs. Banks was a good friend of her mother’s. For as long as Kyra had known her, she styled her thick hair in braids. She still wore it in the same style, but streaks of gray covered sections of what used to be black strands.
“Your mother called me to say you were coming to town.”
“It’s only for a couple weeks to get the house ready for sale.”
“Wait a minute. I’ll be right over.” Mrs. Banks came down from her tiptoes, completely disappearing below the fence. In a few seconds, the older woman walked into the yard. She extended her arms out to Kyra for a hug. “Don’t you look polished in your two-piece suit? Check out those heels. Are they designer?”
Kyra smiled. “I had to go into the office before my flight left Chicago this morning. I didn’t have time to change.”
“Your mother said you were a high-powered lawyer now.”
“I wouldn’t exactly say high-powered. I started working with the firm as an associate three years ago after I graduated law school.” Kyra smoothed the front of her navy jacket in a moment of self-consciousness. She was a bit overdressed for Misty Mesa, population four thousand. While growing up, she never wore anything fancier than a pair of jean shorts and a t-shirt.
Mrs. Banks wore a simple cotton shift over her bedroom slippers. She nodded at Kyra with admiration. “Don’t cut yourself short, young lady. You sure went and got yourself straightened out.”
Kyra concentrated on keeping the pleasant smile on her face. She understood exactly why Mrs. Banks was surprised by her change in wardrobe and demeanor. Before she left town when she was eighteen, she had established a reputation as a rebellious teenager, skipping classes and partying. Given the wild things she used to do in her youth, most of her teachers and adults she knew feared she would turn out to be another statistic on the evening news. Thank goodness she made a U-turn on the road of life in the nick of time.
She owed her parents’ unfailing love and the core values they taught her for that. Unfortunately, heartbreak played a role in her decision to turn a new leaf as well.
“I can’t believe your parents decided to retire in Florida.” Mrs. Banks went right on in her talkative manner. “Seems like only yesterday when they first moved to town. I remember it very well.”
Kyra had her own clear memories of life in Misty Mesa. She only wished they could bring her nostalgia instead of painful regrets. Kyra left town the summer after high school graduation when she learned that her boyfriend Cole McCrea had been accepted into Georgia Tech. She didn’t have the grades to follow him, nor would her physical circumstances have allowed it. She was secretly carrying his child at the time. What’s more, his conservative parents knew of her reputation and didn’t want their son to date a girl who might steer him in the wrong direction. They constantly hinted, even in her presence, that he would do better to find another young lady in college.
But Cole had adored her. He saw through her flashy, attention-getting ways to the caring and sensitive girl on the inside. Though they were so young at the time, Kyra knew even then he had her heart. However, she had been too frightened to tell him about the baby, unsure of what he would think or how his family would react to news of their son getting a black girl pregnant. So she kept it to herself, refusing to see or talk to Cole. She let him leave for Georgia Tech without another word, not even a phone call or a letter to say goodbye. The effect of her choice pained her every time she thought of it.
“Have you seen anybody from your old school?” asked Mrs. Banks.
Kyra shook her head as an ache went through her chest. What was wrong with her? She was in her hometown for less than an hour and already she was rehashing old memories that were better left buried in the past. She hadn’t seen Cole in a decade. No doubt he was working in some highly prestigious corporation on the East Coast, happily dating or engaged to a gorgeous blonde. Maybe he even started a family. He probably didn’t remember Kyra’s name.
“You should look up your friends from back in the day,” Mrs. Banks suggested. “My daughter Gracie is out of town promoting her artwork, but some of the other Crestfield High alumni are still around.”
Kyra managed a little smile. Her family’s neighbor was only trying to be helpful in welcoming her back to Misty Mesa. She shouldn’t feel so prickly. “It would be nice to catch up with them, Mrs. Banks, but I only have two weeks to get the house in shape for the realtor. I’ll be leaving afterwards.”
“Ah, too bad. Well, the husband and I are next door if you need anything. Maybe we can have dinner together before you go.”
“That would be very nice. Let’s plan for it. Thank you.” At least she’d have one positive thing to look forward to during her time home.
Kyra grabbed her two suitcases from the trunk of the car and wheeled them towards the front porch. She considered all the work she’d have to complete in the upcoming days. There were final appraisals to schedule and cleanings to conduct. She muttered as she was forced to step over one of the porch swing’s chains haphazardly tossed on the steps. Didn’t the last people who lived here know anything about maintaining a home?
Her parents rented out their house once they moved to Florida, but weren’t exactly stringent when it came to enforcing rules on their tenants. The last tenant who occupied the house had been lax on cleaning and maintaining the fixtures, according to her mother when she told Kyra over the phone.
Kyra used her key to open the door. She didn’t know what took her by surprise more, the empty space of the
living room or the trash littering the floor. It looked like the last occupants had a party and didn’t bother to pick up after themselves before taking off. She wrinkled her nose. The room smelled like old Chinese takeout and beer.
Kyra continued on into the kitchen, where the floor was streaked with muddy footprints the tenants made in the course of moving out. She made a note to stop at the store later for cleaning supplies. She needed to make a run to get groceries, too. If she was going to be in town for a while, the fridge needed to be stocked with something other than ketchup packets and a half-empty bottle of flat soda. Getting this house in shape was going to take plenty of work. Too much work to have time to think about Cole McCrea, wherever he was.
***
The grocery store in town got a great upgrade in Kyra’s absence. Taken over by new management, it boasted a new and expanded salad bar and a line of organic foods. Kyra pushed her cart slowly along the produce section, deciding on what vegetables to stock in the refrigerator. She was going to be too busy to prepare her meals from scratch every night, so shortcuts were needed. She reached for a bag of precut carrots and celery just as a shorter man stretched his hand towards the same bag.
“Sorry. Go ahead.” He put his hand down and adjusted his glasses. “You look familiar.”
“Hi, Ron. It’s me, Kyra. We went to high school together.”
He blinked behind his glasses. “That’s right. We were lab partners in anatomy class. The teacher made us dissect a cat.”
“Yeah.” Kyra made a face. “Not exactly the best memory to recall when you’re shopping for tonight’s dinner.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.” He laughed nervously. His eyes shifted up again. “So you’re back in town?”
She explained her purpose for returning to her old stomping grounds. “My parents wanted me to handle the last minute legal work for selling the house. That, and making sure the house is presentable to buyers.”
Ron nodded along. She could tell he was barely listening. He shuffled on his feet in a dance of impatience. One hand held the handle of a cart brimming with snack foods, ingredients for sandwiches, and two large cases of bottled water. Maybe she was keeping him from someplace, but wasn’t he the one who initiated the conversation? “You look different,” he remarked.
Before leaving the house, Kyra changed out of her business suit and into a pair of yoga pants, sandals, and a t-shirt she got from an R&B festival. When Ron said she looked different, did he mean covered up, as opposed to how she wore skin-revealing clothing in her teens? His eyes focused on her stomach briefly before he looked up at her face. He was recalling her condition from the last time she was in town, when she was carrying Cole’s child.
Kyra moved to grab a bag of celery and carrots and tossed it into her cart. “I need to stop at another store before it closes.”
Ron nodded eagerly. “I should get going, too. I’m shopping for the kids’ meals at the youth arts center. I’m one of the cooks.”
“When did the town get a youth arts center?”
“A little over two years ago. Cole set it up on his family’s ranch. Well, it’s his ranch now.”
Kyra’s hands remained hovered over the handle of her cart. Her heart began beating fast. “Cole’s home from Georgia?”
“Yep.” Ron pushed his loaded grocery cart away from the produce section. “Good luck with the house. I’ll tell Cole I saw you.” He shifted his eyes again, looking down at the space between his feet and the cart before he wheeled it away.
Kyra stood in the produce aisle, staring after the small man as he hurried along to find a checkout clerk. Only when an elderly woman gently tapped her on the shoulder did she realize she was holding up the line to get to the carrots. She apologized and hastened to push her cart down an empty aisle.
Her mind spun. Cole was back in Misty Mesa, too. Excitement and anxiety built within her, both battling to become the dominant emotion. She wanted to see him. What did he look like these days? Did his blue eyes still have sparks of kindness and intelligence? Did he still have that sexy, easygoing smile?
Anxiety won out and quelled her curiosity. Even if Cole looked exactly the same, she’d never find out about it because she wasn’t going to search the town for him. There was a reason he never contacted her again after leaving to go to college. He took her hint and moved on with his life. She had her own life to think about, anyway. There was a law firm, a small but nice one-bedroom apartment, and professional colleagues in Chicago waiting for her return.
Kyra resumed filling her cart with groceries, resolving to remain focused. She was in Misty Mesa for one purpose and one purpose only. It didn’t involve Cole. She stopped talking to him, and he released her from his life. It was futile wishful thinking to fantasize about a pleasant reunion. Kyra ruined her chances with him a long time ago, if she ever had a chance to begin with.
Chapter 2
Cole sat in his office and stared at the spreadsheet on his computer screen. The list of requirements to get his youth arts center accredited for the county was growing every day. If he wanted things done properly, he was going to need the aid of an attorney. The problem was, they commanded a hefty price for their services.
It took most of what he inherited from his parents to transform a portion of the family ranch into a recreational place for the young people of Misty Mesa. The money left over went to getting the various programs up and running. As the center director, he refused to take a salary. Better for the money to go into paying the employees who kept the center running: the horseback riding instructors, folk musicians, cooks, artists, and administrative staff. He earned enough from the work he did on his ranch when he wasn’t at the center.
Cole grumbled as he scrolled down the spreadsheet. Unfortunately, the lawyers in town regarded his ranch and youth center as a profitable business. A number of them were transplants from larger cities, unable to cut it in Houston or Shreveport, so they moved out to the small Texas towns to make a fast buck from who they assumed were simple country folk. Given the size of Cole’s ranch, they also assumed he could easily part with tens of thousands of dollars to retain their services.
No deal. Cole was clear on his intentions from the beginning. The money the center generated was to go into the community and improve the lives of children, not to fill the already bulging pockets of law firms so they could treat their associates to filet mignon and three-martini lunches every week.
He closed the program on his computer. If he wanted the center to get accredited, he’d have to break down eventually and hire somebody, but whom? He talked to people at almost every one of the firms downtown, and had his doubts if any would take the time to do a thorough job. He didn’t trust their wheeler-dealer ways.
He looked up from his computer when a knock came from the door. It was eight o’ clock, an hour past the center’s closing time. He locked the front doors and the ranch’s main gate for the night. It had to be one of the center’s employees. “Door’s open,” he said.
Ron, the center’s head cook, entered. He raised his glasses and wiped sweat from his face. “Hey, boss, sorry to bother you, but I’m going to need a hand with all the food I bought from the store.”
“No problem. I’ll be right there.” Cole shut down his laptop and got up from the desk chair. He had enough eye strain from staring at spreadsheets for one day. He turned out the lights and locked the door to his office behind him.
He followed Ron down the hall of the youth center. The floors and walls of the building were made of wood paneling, fashioned to resemble an old-fashioned cowboy bunkhouse. The kids loved it, especially the saddle mounts and pairs of longhorn cattle horns decorating the main rooms where they gathered to learn and do projects. “What did you get from the store this week?”
Ron took two steps for his every one. “I bought more of those snack packs we ran out of. You’d think the kids would appreciate all the fresh beef and chicken we supply on the ranch, but they love those chips and candy
just as much, if not more.”
“Kids will be kids.” Cole smiled. He enjoyed having children on the ranch. They brought life and laughter to an otherwise quiet place. “You left here at five-thirty to get groceries, didn’t you?”
“I did, but I ended up talking to someone in the store.”
Cole laughed as they went into the center’s kitchen. “Come on. You’re not gonna tell me you got sidetracked by chatting up a pretty woman while she was shopping for cantaloupes.”
“Actually, she was shopping for vegetables. The situation wasn’t like how you think it was. I used to know her in high school.”
Cole hoisted a pack of water bottles on his shoulder. “So she was a pretty woman?”
“Yes.” Ron scratched behind his ear. “I don’t know if I should say anything else.”
“You have to now.” Cole liked to joke with his friend, given Ron’s shyness around the opposite sex. “So is she your type, small with big hair?”
“Ha. Ha.” Ron’s eyes hooded with sarcasm. “No, I’d say she’s more your type.”
Cole set the water bottles inside the large refrigerator. “Is that right? What do you know about my preferences in women?” One of the things he prided himself on was not mixing business with pleasure. He never brought any of his dates out to the commercial side of the ranch, especially not where the youth center was located.
Ron kept scratching his ear to the point where it turned red. In fact, his whole face was changing color to catch up. “I saw Kyra Grayson at the store.”
Cole’s humor disappeared, replaced by surprise. He never thought he would hear her name again. As soon as Ron uttered it, he pictured her beautiful face. Kyra’s dark brown skin glowed with bronze undertones. Her eyes were the color of amber. He closed his eyes for a split second, thinking of her full pink lips, how they formed an attractive smile, and how they once parted for him to taste the soft sweetness of her mouth.
My Heart Lingers (A Hearts of Misty Mesa Story): BWWM Interracial Romance Page 1
