Southern Love

by Synithia Williams

  With a quick shake of her head she pushed away from the door. She had to get out before she succumbed to the pity party lurking in her subconscious. If she sat in the confined space Mr. Porter called a house, she’d lose her mind. Grabbing a bag off the floor of her bedroom, she rummaged through it until she found a pair of running shorts and a sports bra. In less than five minutes she was changed and out of her front door, jogging down the street.

  The warmth of an early September afternoon caressed her skin. Neighbors sat on porches and kids tossed a football in the street. The hometown scene should have comforted her. Instead it made her anxious as she felt the gazes of her neighbors watching her run. Maybe it was narcissistic, but she guessed they were clucking their tongues about her. Her Aunt Linda and her mom’s neighbor sat on her mom’s porch. She smiled and they waved before huddling together to whisper behind their hands. This scene was repeated on her way out of the neighborhood. Fake smiles and hushed conversations. In the years since she’d left nothing had changed. The citizens of this small town loved a story, and unfortunately her shameful homecoming was the most recent one.

  The tension didn’t leave her shoulders until she was out of her neighborhood and passing through Hangman’s Woods, a nature preserve in the outskirts of town with biking and hiking trails. Bittersweet memories assailed her as she passed though the gravel parking lot and into the entrance of the woods. The familiar comfort that came from the muffled sounds of her feet falling along the path, the rustle of the wind in trees, and birds chirping erased the last vestiges of anxiety from earlier. It was funny that after avoiding Helena for all of her adult life, the comfort she got from these woods was still there.

  The park was the one place she’d found shelter and solitude growing up. The last time she’d come here was right after graduation, heady from the excitement of the coming freedom of leaving behind everyone and everything in Helena that boxed her in. No one looked for her there that night. Only one person knew about her hiding place, and he’d stopped looking for her after she’d fucked up their relationship in true Monroe fashion.

  As if the memory pulled her, she continued toward the path she’d been on that night. She should have learned her lesson about bad men and dramatic relationships after her disastrous screw up in high school, but no matter what, she could be counted on to fall for a loser. Former Atlanta councilman, Mark Reed, was the last in a line of bad choices.

  It was time to take a break from men and reevaluate the belief that she’d held any type of power in her relationships. Psychologists probably had a name for whatever attracted to her to sorry men. Fool for a nice smile-itis or something similar.

  With a determined huff she picked up the pace. When she rounded a bend her steps faltered. Tripping over her feet she fell onto her knees. This could not be happing. It was too cliché for the one person she hoped to avoid during her short stint in town to be in the once place she sought refuge. But sure enough, Devin Jones, the guy she’d loved with all of her teenage heart, stared at her as if she were an apparition.

  She’d avoided seeing him after graduation, then to her utter embarrassment, had to face his disapproving stare twice over the past year. Once at a party when she’d been with Mark, and then at a reception celebrating the marriage of her best friend Tasha Smith to his best friend Jared Patterson. They’d avoided each other during the entire party. His dislike still hurt after all these years, but it wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve it.

  The man looked better every time she saw him. Golden skin over high cheekbones, a straight nose and a full lower lip that used to send her teenage hormones into overdrive. He’d always been tall and thin, but now his body was all man. Wide shoulders, sinewy arms and legs shown off to perfection in an Under Armor running shirt and basketball shorts. Heat from embarrassment and desire ran through her body.

  She quickly tried to stand. A sharp pain shot through her ankle. With a wince, she fell back. Devin shook his head as if to clear it before rushing over to her side.

  “Shayla, are you okay?” His long fingers gently gripped her ankle.

  She nodded and tried to ignore pleasure vibrating through her body just from his touch. “Just embarrassed. I must have tripped on something.”

  He looked at the clear trail before one corner of his mouth lifted. “Those leaves can be pretty cumbersome.”

  Her breath rushed out in a nervous laugh. “Maybe you can sign my petition to have something done about the hazardous leaves in Hangman’s Woods.”

  Eyes the color of whisky, smoky brown with golden tones, met hers. Something stirred in their depths before he cleared his throat and looked at her ankle.

  He pressed gently and she sucked in a breath. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

  “My ankle?”

  He shook his head. “No, the leaves.” He smiled at her. It was the first friendly smile she’d gotten since returning home and warmth filled her chest. “Your ankle, on the other hand, is swelling.”

  She frowned. “Really?” She tried to pull her leg away but he increased the pressure. His touch was firm but gentle. Desire rippled through her as she imagined him pinning her in other ways.

  “Really.” His hand flexed before slightly moving up her leg.

  She squirmed and bit the inside of her cheek. They were close enough that she could see his pulse jumping at the base of his neck and she watched his Adam’s apple move enticingly as he swallowed.

  He stood briskly and held out a hand. “I’ll take you to my office and wrap it up.”

  “There’s no need for that. I don’t live far from here.”

  He shook his head. “By the time you limp home your ankle will be in worse shape.”

  “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “Don’t be foolish. You’re hurt.” He reached down, placed his hands beneath her arms and lifted her. The movement was so swift her head swam. She placed her hands on his chest to balance herself. His thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, making her nipples harden against his chest. It would be so easy to lean closer, wrap her arms around his shoulders. But this was Devin, the last man who would welcome her flirtation. And didn’t she just vow to take a break from men? It was one thing to walk into a relationship not knowing the man would break your heart. Completely self destructive when you knew the man had the power to crush you.

  As if sensing danger, he quickly stepped back and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Can you walk?”

  She took a small step and grimaced. “Yeah.”

  With a sigh he lifted her into his arms. “It’ll be faster if I carry you.”

  Her heart went into overdrive. He smelled good, a mixture of sweat and him that made her want to bury her face in the crook of his neck. If he had any clue how much he affected her, he’d drop her on the spot.

  Despite her internal warning, she went with her natural instincts and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “And more fun.”

  He glared at her. “Save your flirtations for someone else. I’m only helping because I’m a doctor and can’t leave you limping in the woods. ”

  Once again her natural inclination was self-destructive. How could she forget that Devin Jones hated her?

  Chapter 2

  Devin ran through every curse word he knew as he carried Shayla to his truck. He’d known she was back in town. Half his patients were buzzing about what happened to her in Atlanta and were eager to fill him in. Helena was small, so he’d mentally prepared himself to see her. He’d expected it to be at the grocery store, if she came with her mom to a doctor’s appointment, or at some community event. He’d even imagined seeing her in Columbia now that her friend Tasha was married to his friend Jared. For each of those scenarios he’d thought out how he would react. How he would treat her with the cool indifference his best friend Malcolm had down to a science. He would participate in an
y necessary small talk, comment on the weather, and move along as if she wasn’t the woman who’d shredded his heart years ago.

  But for all that preparation, he hadn’t come up with a response to seeing her trip over her own feet after one glance at him. His concern pushed aside all thoughts of acting indifferent. Not surprising. He could never stay indifferent when it came to Shayla.

  When they reached his truck, he unceremoniously dumped her in the passenger seat and slammed the door. He should’ve let her limp home, but as a doctor he couldn’t leave her injured in the middle of the trail. Plus, Hangman’s Woods wasn’t the safe place it had been in the nineties. With dusk approaching, most hikers left as unruly teens and other folks with ill intentions began hanging along the trails.

  He jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “You shouldn’t be running in the woods this late in the day,” he said as he drove out of the lot.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts, pushing the swells higher above her sports bra. He gripped the steering wheel and jerked his eyes away. Focus on the road.

  “I’ve wandered those trails too many times to count. I won’t get lost,” she said.

  “I know, but you haven’t been here in years. Once it gets dark all types of whack jobs start hanging there. Hikers don’t even camp anymore after a family was robbed two years ago.”

  “Oh,” she said. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t make a next time. Just stay off the trails close to dusk. I’d hate for you to get hurt.”

  Her lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “I’m surprised you care.”

  He sighed. “I’ve always cared, Shayla. I stopped offering my advice because you never listened.”

  “You’re the only person I’ve ever listened to,” she murmured.

  He thought back to Homecoming and the night she’d broken his heart. “You didn’t always listen.”

  She stiffened before turning to look out the window. It was a low blow, and hurts from the past weren’t worth stirring up, but he needed to remind them both why they’d never worked out.

  “You know, high school was years ago, can we just say we were young and dumb and move on?” she said still facing the window.

  He relaxed his hands on the wheel. “Agreed.”

  They rode in silence the remaining minutes it took for him to drive to his office. It was a red brick building across from the small county hospital. He pulled into the side parking lot then helped Shayla out of the truck.

  “You really bought a truck. You always said you would. It’s nice,” she said.

  Taken aback that she remembered, he could only mumble his thanks. That was the thing about Shayla, she remembered everything. He couldn’t count the number of times he would mention something he wanted to do and somehow she’d make it happen. Back in high school she’d surprise him with the latest CD he wanted, or do something simple like show up with a can of pineapple just because she knew it was his favorite. She was both caring and selfish. A paradox he never could understand.

  When he placed her arm around his shoulder, her intoxicating scent floated over him, reminding him of cinnamon. He closed his eyes briefly before helping her limp toward the side entrance.

  He pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. They didn’t speak as he helped her through the darkened interior toward an exam room. He unwrapped her arm from his shoulder so she could go into the room first. Her eyes met his and his throat constricted. Shayla Monroe had the looks and body that would fit perfectly in any rap video. Exotic dark eyes that slanted at the ends, full breasts and a butt that even the most devout man couldn’t help but imagine palming. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. When they were younger she’d worn the thick tresses loose, where they curled around her shoulders. He used to love the way it would brush his face when she braided his hair in high school.

  Shayla shifted and he blinked. Damn, not even ten minutes in her company and he was reduced to staring. Without a word, he lifted her onto the exam table. He spun away to flip on a light and get a bandage from one of the cabinets.

  He brought the bandage to the table and lifted her ankle. It had swollen slightly over her shoe. He slipped off her sneaker and the sock and gently applied pressure to her ankle. She stiffened but didn’t jerk away. He moved her foot from side to side then up and down. Satisfied it wasn’t broken; he placed it back on the table.

  “You’ll live. I doubt it’s even sprained. I’ll wrap it and you’ll need to take is easy for a few days.” He said. When he met her eyes she was smiling with her head cocked to the side. “What?”

  “I can’t believe you’re a doctor. I mean, I knew that was your plan, but to actually see you here with your own practice, taking care of me. It’s great. I’m proud of you.”

  Tiny pinpricks of heat crept up his cheeks and he looked away. He was used to receiving praise for being the only black doctor in their small town, but it affected him more coming from Shayla.

  He began to deftly wrap her ankle with the bandage. “I’m fortunate to do something I love.” He lifted his chin in her direction. “What about you? Why are you back in Helena? If memory serves me correctly, you were never coming back to this place.”

  Her eyes became guarded as she stiffened. “You know why I’m back.”

  He finished with her ankle before turning to lean his back against the exam table. “I know why people say you’re back. I want you to tell me the real reason.”

  “So you can lecture me?”

  “No,” he said. He didn’t need to know the real reason. It didn’t matter what she did with her life. He pushed away from the table. “I was just making conversation. Forget it.” He said walking to the door.

  “I lost my job … for sleeping with a client.”

  He paused. He kept his back to her as he lowered his eyes. He didn’t want to know. The idea of Shayla in another man’s bed caused feelings he didn’t want to explore to swell in his chest. And jealousy over her relationships was a waste of time.

  He turned back to her. “It’s none of my business.”

  She swung her legs to the side of the table. “Apparently it’s everyone’s business. You’ve heard the rumors, so you might as well hear the entire story. Yes, he was a member of the Atlanta city council. Yes, my firm handled his campaign. Yes, I … slept with him. But not for as long as the papers reported.”

  A vision of the arrogant blonde guy insisting that he was free to talk with Shayla when he’d seen her in Atlanta a year ago came to mind. He’d been in Atlanta for a party Jared and Malcolm put together for their mother’s engagement. The happy celebration quickly turned sour when Jared and Tasha got into an argument and he’d been enlisted to take her from the party to a friend. If he would have known the friend was Shayla, he would have let Tasha and Jared fight it out. At the time he hadn’t seen Shayla since high school, but it didn’t stop his body from reacting the way it had when he was seventeen whenever she was around. But when the man walked up to her and caressed her arm with his wedding ring clear for everyone to see, he’d pushed his desire aside and remembered that Shayla was only out for herself.

  “Was he the guy I saw you with in Atlanta?”

  She raised her chin and met his eyes. “Yes, but we weren’t together at the time.”

  He shook his head. “If you knew his position, why were you seeing him?”

  She shrugged a shoulder. Dark lashes lowered over her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Irritation snapped within him. “Bullshit, you know. Why were you with him?”

  Her eyes widened, anger sparked within their dark centers. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

  She was right, but he couldn’t help himself. Once again she picked the wrong guy. A part of him knew this push for answe
rs was because he never asked for them when it was his heart she’d broken. He wouldn’t think about how unappealing years of old jealousy looked on a man. “No, you don’t. But you owe yourself one. Shayla, why do you choose these guys?”

  She looked away. “Sometimes they choose me.”

  “Admit it. You enjoyed the excitement, the rush of doing something forbidden. Regardless of the consequences, you wanted what made you happy.”

  Her lips curled into a sneer as contempt filled her eyes. “That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? Easy to believe I only care about myself. Not that I avoided his advances for years. Or that I didn’t believe it when he said their marriage was in trouble until she filed for divorce. It doesn’t matter I didn’t agree to one date with him until after they separated. Forget that he swore he loved me, but quickly changed his tune when he realized it would be easier for him to run for senate with his wife of ten years than me.”

  Pain and humiliation were clear in her eyes, yet she held her head high. A part of him believed her. There were men who lied about their marriages to sleep with other women. But he clearly remembered how Shayla’s need to have fun — regardless of the consequences — did a TKO on his heart years ago.

  He tried to relax and lower the tension between them, but couldn’t keep from saying, “In the end he was still a married man.”

  “Well now I know to scratch married men off my list,” she said mockingly as her fingers played with the gold heart pendant resting on her chest.

  He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “There’s no need to joke. His lying doesn’t excuse what you did.”

  “Why do you insist on seeing the bad in me?”

  “I don’t insist on it. I just don’t believe in sugar coating things to make them sound better.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t changed at all. You still try to rationalize everything. Never take into account emotions, or feelings — ”