Tomorrow: Kingsley series book 1

by Haylee Thorne

  Deciding to take action and not sit around moping, I pour the last dredges of wine into my glass. “I’m going to figure this out,” I whisper to myself. My words are soft, a promise. Draining the remaining wine, I say more strongly, “Something needs to change.”

  “I can do this,” I quietly say to myself as my fingers nervously grip the steering wheel of my rental car. I have no choice. I didn’t pack my bags and hop on a plane to Tennessee for nothing. Thinking back to what brought me here, I steel my resolve. Although I can feel my nerves buzzing below my skin, ready to pick back up once I start thinking about the many open questions in my life, a small smile steals over my face. I’m back home. I’m beyond ready to rediscover my sense of purpose and I think going back to my roots will do the trick.

  After partaking in too much wine the day I quit my job and spending a considerable chunk of time trying to figure out my next move, I decided to hit the refresh button on my life. I need to slow things down and take a break from city life, which is why I’m entering the city limits of Starwood, Tennessee. Not only is Starwood my hometown, but the apple orchard my parents own will be the perfect place to unplug and find myself again.

  As I drive through town I’m bombarded with memories of my childhood: picking apples with my brother, baking pies with my grandma, taking a dip in the creek when the humidity was unbearable, jumping in a huge pile of colorful leaves with my friends, there were so many wonderful memories here. The closer I get to my family’s property, the stronger the sense of nostalgia and knowing I’m where I need to be.

  Finally, I see the entrance to Shady Layne Orchard. My parents’ home sits on fifty acres of lush, green grass and soft, rolling hills. As I follow the gravelly driveway I look at the orchard in the distance. Even though I grew up here, the sight still manages to take my breath away. The trees are tall and stately, dotted with jewel-hued apples and adorned with slender branches reaching up to the sky like dainty lady fingers. Facing the orchard is the old barn we had converted into the cider shop, its white paint chipped and weathered.

  I pull up to the side of the house and grab my phone. I promised I’d send Cade, my best friend and roommate, a text so he’d know I made it home safely.

  Me: Hey CC, I made it to TN! :)

  Almost immediately, my phone pings with a response. I smile to myself as I think about my protective bestie.

  Cade: Good, I was getting worried. You okay?

  Me: I will be. Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here??

  Cade: Don’t be silly. Go find yourself. I’ll be here if you need me. :)

  Me: You’re seriously the best.

  Cade: Glad you recognize that.

  Me: Haha okay, I gotta go. I’ll stay in touch. Love ya!

  Cade: Love you, too.

  Me: P.S.: I left 3 month’s worth of rent money in the cookie jar. :P

  Cade: It’s staying there. I don’t need it. Now stop stalling. Go see your family.

  Me: Fine, bossy man.

  Cade: You know it. ;)

  Just texting Cade makes me feel better. Feeling lighter, I tuck my phone away and bound into the house.

  “Mama! Papa! Is anyone home?” I shout. I’m greeted with silence, which is unusual. The house is usually buzzing with some sort of activity. I look at the key rack and see a note in my mom’s handwriting tacked to it.

  Mac, your father and I are working the welcome booth at the farmer’s market. We’re sorry if we missed you, sweetie. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. We aired out your room for you so you can take a nap if you need one. We’ll see you soon! Love, Mom and Pop

  I hold onto the note for a few seconds, thinking about what I should do. Should I stay home and take a nap? No, I should take advantage of my renewed energy. Putting the note back down, I turn around and head back outside. Farmer’s market it is.

  I see my parents before they see me. As I amble over to the welcome booth, a fond smile plastered on my face, I take a good look at them. The signs of aging have graced them as gently as newly fallen snow. There are more gray hairs and more wrinkles than I’m used to but they look like they’re doing well. Finally, my mom catches my eye and runs around the booth to me, her warm arms encasing me in a tight hug.

  “Oh Mac, baby, I missed you so much!” my mother cries excitedly. “It’s so nice to have you back home. You look so beautiful. How long are you stayin’ with us?” I can tell by her expression that she’s hoping it’ll be forever.

  “I’m not sure, Mama. I plan on staying for the rest of summer so, at the very least, you have me until the end of September,” I say, just as another set of arms hugs me from the side.

  “Then two months will have to do, sweetie,” my dad says from my left. “We’re just glad you’re back.”

  I feel my eyes water and stay enveloped in my parents’ dual embrace for a few seconds longer. As I pull away, I ask them how much longer they’ll be. After hearing they only have another half hour until their shift ends, I decide to walk around and look at the different booths selling local produce or homemade goods.

  As I child, I used to love coming to these with my family. I can still remember the feeling of pride when people bought our apples and cider. Maybe I’ll get the chance to do it again since it’s almost that time of year. I take my time walking around and make sure to hang back from large groups of people, careful not to draw too much attention to myself. Then, amid the low hum of soft and polite southern drawls I didn’t realize I missed, I hear a distinct masculine laugh. I turn slowly, hoping that I’m wrong in who the owner of the engaging sound is. Unfortunately my suspicions are correct as I spy Lawson Westbrook, my older brother’s best friend and the man I idolized growing up. I feel like I’ve seen a ghost as I discreetly gaze at him. He hales from old money and was born and bred a true Southern gentleman. On top of that, his innate charm and rugged good looks make him a catch any single woman in town would hope to end up with.

  Thankfully he isn’t facing me so I stare a little longer than is polite. Somehow I managed to avoid seeing him on my infrequent visits back home but God, he looks better than he did six years ago. At thirty-one he’s seven years my senior and he’s only gotten better looking with age. At well over six feet tall, he stands with the confidence of someone comfortable with his body, his muscular frame clearly at ease. I drink in his short, golden brown hair and trim facial hair that’s just a smidge darker. I can’t see his eyes but I know they’re an arresting shade of green that puts spring leaves and budding apples to shame. As I stare at him, an old memory surfaces from when I was eighteen.

  “MacIntosh Layne, you get your bum down here right now before we’re late to your own graduation dinner!” my mom calls.

  As I put the last curl in my hair I yell back down, “I’ll be right there! I’m just grabbing my shoes!” Spraying on some perfume, I take one last look at my reflection before heading down. My new little black dress fits to the middle of my thighs and showcases a demure sweetheart illusion neckline. I wish it was more form-fitting but I have to work with what I have, which is a distinct lack of curves. The dress, though beautiful, covers my lanky body like a sheet. I pray the person I hope finally notices me won’t catch that little detail. My long brown hair looks amazing and bouncy, thanks to my curling iron, and my hazel eyes pop under my long lashes that I enhanced with the help of some mascara. Finally satisfied with my appearance, I grab my shoes and head downstairs.

  My family ends up taking me to my favorite Italian restaurant in town for my graduation dinner. I’m a strange mix of anxious and excited because Lawson, my childhood crush, is here. Now that I’m eighteen and a high school graduate, I hope he’ll see me as a woman. Specifically, I hope he sees me as a woman he’d like to date.

  During dinner, I can’t help but glance at him every chance I get. At one point my brother, Smith, catches me gazing at his friend. I feel the blush staining my cheeks and quickly look away, but not before I catch the funny look he gives me. As dinner continues I�
�m asked by friends of the family what my plans are for college.

  “I’ll either stay here or go to Chicago,” I say. “I haven’t been able to decide between the graphic design program at Tennessee State or the one at the University of Illinois. I’ll make a decision eventually.” My family expresses their wish that I stay in-state but I don’t tell them what’s going through my head. The truth of it is, if there’s a chance of anything happening with Lawson I’ll be staying in Tennessee.

  As dinner is wrapping up, I see my chance to talk to Lawson alone when he gets up to use the restroom. My brother soon follows but I think the difference in timing will work in my favor. I wait a moment and excuse myself to the ladies’ room. I’m drawing in a breath of courage as I make it to the hallway but stop in my tracks when I hear the low murmur of male voices.

  “Law, I’m not kidding. I think Mac has a crush on you,” Smith says.

  I feel the blood drain from my face in mortification and wait for Lawson’s reaction.

  “Smith, you’re crazy. Even if it were true, why would you tell me?” asks the object of my affection for so many years.

  “Because if that’s the case you better not hurt her feelings.”

  “Man, she’s like one of the guys. Besides, she’s too young for me. I don’t date little girls, man. I prefer women. I do think you’re wrong though. She sees me as another older brother. Anyways, man, it’ll never happen. Ever. I can promise you that.”

  I can’t take anymore. I spin around, tears in my eyes, and sit at an empty table far enough away that I won’t be seen and where I can gain my composure. I can’t even be angry at Smith because I know he was only looking out for me. What guts me is now I know for certain Lawson still sees me as a little girl. I look down and realize my hands are shaking. Knowing I’ve been gone for too long I take a fortifying breath and wipe the tears from under my eyes before walking back. So much for a happy graduation day. It looks like I’m moving to Chicago.

  “MacIntosh Layne, darlin’ is that you?” The feminine voice rips me from my flashback quicker than it takes to fry okra. I respond to the voice and, as I turn, I’m relieved to see that Lawson hasn’t noticed me. Thank heavens for small favors.

  Once I notice the person who spoke to me, a genuine smile makes an appearance. Lawson’s younger sister, Langley, is a year younger than me but someone I’d consider a friend. Turning so my profile is to her brother, I give her my full attention.

  “It is me. How are you doin’, Langley? It’s been years!” I haven’t seen her in probably three or four years and she’s bloomed beautifully. God help the eligible bachelors. Good looks definitely run in the Westbrook family and Langley must undoubtedly be the belle of this town. Taller and curvier than I am with her mother’s inky black hair, she’s a stunner. I can’t help but notice that both of the Westbrook children inherited their father’s striking green eyes.

  “I’m doin’ alright, just trying to sell some pies. How are you? You look great by the way!” she says with a sweet smile.

  “Thank you, so do you! I mean it. The men must be chasing you around this town,” I say, and we both laugh. “I’m okay but I’m excited to be back in town. Did you make all these?” I take a glance at the pies and assorted baked goods and everything looks like it was made by a professional. Not only that, everything looks downright delicious. I feel my mouth start to water. Baked goods are my weakness.

  “Sure did! I guess all those failed attempts at baking as a child paid off. Would you like a sample?” She must see the drool collecting because she’s already placing a sample of what I think is cherry pie in my hand.

  I let out an involuntary groan as I take the first bite, the flavors bursting on my tongue. The crust is buttery and flakey, the cherries tart and sweet. “Hell in a handbasket, Langley. This is amazing! I hate to say this but this is better than my grandma’s pie, God rest her soul, and that’s saying something.”

  “Oh stop it,” she blushes. She seems a little uncomfortable with the praise but recovers quickly by grabbing a pie. “It’s just a hobby of mine. Here,” she hands me the pie, “since you’re in town and it’s been forever since I’ve seen you this is on me. I’m not sure how long you’re here for but we should get together and catch up.”

  “You are too sweet but I can’t take this,” I halfheartedly say. Thankfully she’s persistent. “I’m here for the summer and would love to meet up.”

  We make small talk for a couple minutes before I realize the time. My parents should be done with their shift any minute now. As I apologize for my hasty departure we exchange numbers and I promise her that we’ll get together soon. With my new pie in hand, I head toward the parking lot. This summer should prove to be very interesting. One thing I know for certain is that while I’ll be seeing Langley again, I won’t be seeing her brother. This summer, I’ll be avoiding Lawson Westbrook at all costs.

  Lawson

  “Lawson, when are you gonna let me ask your sister out?” Jude asks, his eyes and tone pleading for a chance.

  “Never, man. Ever. Even if I gave my blessing, she’d eat you up and spit you out alive. You know how she is. She won’t date anyone.” I say this in a joking manner but my coworker knows I’m not kidding. There’s no way this guy is getting near my baby sister.

  “That’s just cause she hasn’t gone out with me yet. I’d change her mind.”

  “The answer is still no,” I say a little more seriously.

  With a defeated sigh he relents. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Maybe I’ll ask out the pretty thing talking to her right now. Do you know who she is?”

  I turn and try to find my sister’s booth. It takes a second to locate her and once I do my eyes zero in on the woman in question.

  “Not sure, never seen her before. Maybe she’s new in town,” I murmur as we both stare.

  I can’t see her face since she’s standing with her side to us, but judging solely off of her profile I really like what I see. A lot. Tall and slender, mystery woman has curves in all the right places. Not overly curvy, but definitely not thin, her body is showcased in a tight t-shirt and jeans. Starting at her toes, my gaze travels up her body and I decide this is a body I wouldn’t mind getting to know intimately. As I stare I take in hair that looks long, smooth, and is the color of rich milk chocolate. I wish I could see her face.

  Before either of us can say anything else, mystery woman wraps up her conversation with my sister. As she turns and walks in the opposite direction, hair swishing and hips swaying gently with each step, I make a decision. Somehow, I’m going to find out who this woman is and introduce myself.

  A tangled up romance.

  Ellie

  Has realized becoming a stay at home writer has proven to be more challenging than rewarding. Living on the outskirts of the city with no potential job on the horizon, Ellie is left with too much time on her hands and not enough money. When a spot opens up at the strip club down the street where her roommate works, She jumps at the opportunity. Plus, she is in desperate need of some writing inspiration. What could possibly go wrong?

  Kason

  Has dated the wrong type of women his entire life. Being a cop, he’s seen what goes on in the background of the clubs. After what happened years ago, he swore he would never get involved with a stripper ever again. Until he meets Ellie.

  Will Ellie be able to keep Kason and her job a secret? Will Kason run away from his past, or accept it and let Ellie in?

  Will danger find them tangled in their sheets and secrets?

  I put my third cup of coffee down as I stare at the blank word document in front of me.

  “UGHHHHHH.”

  I hear Ariel’s keys as she unlocks the door. She was used to my nightly rages by now. Sounding more like a mother than a best friend, she calls out from the entryway.

  “You know, I could hear you from the stairwell this time, Els.” She liked to call me Els, which apparently for her is short for Ellie. I’ve never been called by a nick
name so I kind of liked it. It came with my fresh start.

  “Still glad I moved in with you?” I flash my wide smile as if I were the Joker’s baby himself. I check the clock and it’s almost 3am. Caffeine overload. I’m getting delirious. She rolls her eyes, so I take that as a yes.

  I have gotten used to our little lifestyle quickly. Ariel works at the strip club down the street and was the only stripper to work open to close shifts. She has long hours, but it shows in her bank account. I thought it would be weird living with a stripper, as I had always imagined them being a little dirty--no pun intended.

  I found out about this quaint two-bedroom apartment above Joe’s Donut Shoppe on Craigslist. She was begging for a new roommate who needed to move in quickly and had to be a female.

  I needed a quick escape from the city after my last relationship ended in tears in front of The Daily News live broadcast. I had written sports articles for them for two years before they finally gave me my big break covering a live story at the football stadium. Turns out my boyfriend at the time was cheating on me with one of the cheerleaders. I saw them all over each other, and as soon as the camera man gave me the signal I completely lost it on live television.

  Not only did I embarrass the company, but I was the laughingstock around the workplace. I was put on probation from my boss, but it only took five minutes of torture before I gathered my things in my shared cubicle and left without notice. I couldn’t face the entire city anymore so I packed up my bags and never looked back. I never needed a car in the city so I took the bus route, which is how I ended up here in Beamtown, Pennsylvania. That was the last stop before they turned back around towards the city. I got my phone out and checked Craigslist and Ariel was the only listing looking for a roommate. It was either fate or I would be sleeping with a psychopath, either way it was better than sleeping on the street.