Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  Still, he was glad to see her and genuinely curious about what she was doing tied to a tree in the park. He was close enough to hear as she finished her speech.

  “I can’t help but wonder, where will it end? There’s so little green space left in our town. Next thing, they’ll turn the park into a mixed-use complex, like they did in Woodstock. Nothing but condominiums, shops, and parking lots. Kennesaw is next, I have no doubt. Call the planning commission today, or tell them on social media. Let them know they can’t take away our park. Not one bit of it!”

  Some of the crowd clapped, some shook their heads. Cash began clapping himself. Loudly.

  “Bravo, Ms. Diaz, bravo. Well put.”

  The fact that she was protesting the very reason he was here only added to his amusement. But the best part was the stunned expression on her face as she noticed him.

  Chapter 2

  The afterglow of her impassioned speech faded abruptly as the ex-boyfriend from hell stood nearby, a smug smile on his handsome face. Her pulse spiked as the urge to break out of her bonds and run far, far away from him overtook her. She only shifted on her grassy seat, determined to let no one, not even him, dampen her resolve.

  “Cash. What are you doing here? Florida rejected you?”

  It was a jab, she knew. But he deserved it for abandoning her.

  “Nope, I rejected Florida in favor of a better-paying job. I’ve been back in Atlanta for a few years now.”

  “Well, good for you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tree to save.”

  She rested her head against the tree imperiously, dismissing him. She closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, he’d be gone. His snarky laugh a moment later made her give up and glare at him.

  “That’s my Rachel. Still chasing the cause du jour. So, you’re tied to a tree as a form of protest. That’ll show them, won’t it?”

  The steam of anger rose from her skin in waves. Bella’s snicker didn’t help. She gave her sister a sharp glance, and the girl turned away, pretending to look at her phone. Rachel didn’t owe this man any explanation, but she answered so that he might leave her alone.

  “It’s already on the Internet and has people talking. A stupid parking lot is not worth losing this section of the park, not to mention these trees. Or this tree. And I’m not your Rachel, by the way.”

  Annoyingly, he leaned against the tree and tested her bonds. His spicy-citrus scent carried on the breeze, and she couldn’t help but notice at close range how tight his jeans were. An hour tied to the tree and she was already uncomfortable, and now her ex was nearly breathing down her neck. She looked up at him, and he smiled. It was a smile she used to love. Now she wanted to smack it off his face.

  “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? Why is this tree so special?”

  Bella interrupted, moving closer.

  “She thinks that tree has special powers. So does our mom.”

  He turned to face her, his hand out in greeting. “Oh, hey, Bella. Didn’t see you there. How are you?”

  “I’m good. But they really do think it brings good luck or something.”

  They both looked at Rachel. Although she truly believed the tree was special, it was hard to explain why to someone else without sounding like a nutjob.

  “Our parents met under this tree. They fell in love here. And Mom used to bring me here when I was sad. Like the day the guy I thought was the one told me he was leaving to go to college. In Florida.”

  That was a major jab. Cash Bradford deserved that and worse.

  “Touché, Rachel. But I have missed you, and if I recall correctly, I called a month after I left and asked you to visit so we could work things out.”

  The set of her mouth was tight. It was clear she didn’t want to have this conversation any more than he did. Then her dark eyes flashed, shooting sparks of anger that burned his pride.

  “Too little, too late. Besides, we were always complete opposites.”

  “That we were.” He paused, waiting for her ire to ease. When she shifted in her bonds and sighed, he softened his voice. “But we had some good times. Right?”

  Her grimace faded to a grudging smirk.

  “Right, we did.” She paused, then asked, “Why are you here? In the park, I mean.”

  Trapped, he debated internally on what to tell her. She wouldn’t like the truth, but he couldn’t hide what he did for a living.

  “I heard about the new food truck court, so I wanted to check it out.”

  Her eyes narrowed. As flighty as she had been, Rachel always had a keen ability to read people, especially him.

  “And?”

  “And I think it’s a great idea. Especially since I own two food trucks.”

  Her lips clamped tight, and she said nothing. That was worse than her yelling at him. Fortunately, Bella spoke up, breaking the strained silence.

  “Oh, cool. I love food trucks. What kind of food do you serve?”

  “Well, one is—”

  Rachel snapped at Bella, her voice throttled with emotion. “You’re supposed to be helping me, not commiserating with the enemy!”

  Bella’s calm demeanor in the face of her sister’s criticism was not only commendable but amusing. Cash leaned against the tree, watching the spectacle.

  “I am helping you. That doesn’t mean I hate food trucks in general.”

  When Rachel turned away, shaking her head, he answered the question. “One is gourmet southern, and the other has all kinds of tacos, like fifty different kinds.”

  Bella’s eyes went wide. “Wow. That sounds awesome. Rach, Dad would love the taco thing, wouldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know. All I do know is, Cash can park his trucks somewhere else. I won’t let them cut down this tree.”

  Passersby were beginning to gather again, and Rachel turned her attention to them, answering questions. Cash stood back, giving her room. One thing he knew about Rachel Diaz—she changed her mind often, but once she’d committed to something, she went all the way.

  He turned to Bella, who was snapping photos again.

  “Is she going to stay here all night?”

  “No. She’ll go home at dark but will be here at dawn tomorrow. She’s kind of obsessed about this.”

  “Good. I would have worried about her being here at night. Tell her I’ll be back to check on her tomorrow.”

  She smiled, and he walked away, hating himself for having to break Rachel’s heart a second time.

  Chapter 3

  Rachel entered her parents’ house and headed to her bedroom. Her back ached something fierce, and she needed a hot shower. Her mother, Trista, called from the kitchen.

  “I’ve made tea and zucchini bread.”

  As much as she couldn’t wait to douse herself in hot water, drinking some in the form of tea sounded divine. She threw her backpack on the bed and walked to the kitchen.

  Trista stood at the counter, pouring tea into two cups. Her light brown curls, streaked with grey, fell to her shoulders. Fine-boned and slim, she wore a long skirt and peasant top, which was practically a uniform for her. Comfort came before style, but she still managed to look perfectly put together.

  “Where’s Dad?”

  Rachel slumped into a chair, reaching for a slice of zucchini bread. She was hungry, and the stress of the day and seeing Cash had drained her. When Trista placed the cup of herbal tea in front of her, she sipped gratefully.

  “He had to close tonight. Danni had to leave early.”

  “Oh. Sorry I couldn’t cover the shift.”

  Trista stirred her tea, having added a few drops of honey to it. She waved a hand and shook her head.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. We know this is important to you, even though it probably won’t make a difference in what the city does.”

  The tea had warmed Rachel, calming the fluttering of her stomach, which had started the minute she saw Cash. Now, the thought of losing her fight to save the tree made it worse.

&
nbsp; “Maybe not, but I have to try.”

  “I know.”

  They ate for a minute in silence. She had wanted to go to bed and forget about today, but now that she had relaxed, it all played back in her mind.

  “Mom, guess who showed up at the park today?”

  “The police? A news crew?”

  “No. Cash Bradford.”

  Her furrowed brow spoke volumes. “Wow. So, he’s back in Georgia?”

  “Apparently, he’s been back for a few years. Didn’t bother to look me up, though.”

  “Well, you did tell him you never wanted to see him again.”

  “I did. And I meant it.”

  Trista looked at her expectantly. Even Rachel had heard the hesitancy in her own voice.

  “Then. You meant it then. And now?”

  Sipping tea gave her a moment to stall. How could she feel so many emotions at once? This morning, she had left on a mission—save the tree. Now, her world was all jumbled up, and the future was uncertain. It was just like him to show up looking hotter than he had a right to and advocating the very thing she was protesting.

  “I guess it was the shock of seeing him again. And finding out he has two food trucks, so he wants them to cut down the trees and expand the parking lot. Once again, we’re on opposite sides of the fence. So, it doesn’t matter if there’s a trace of feelings for him or how damn good he looks.”

  With that, she drained her cup and stood. Trista simply looked at her with understanding eyes. Which irritated her anew, the way her mother always saw past her defenses. But she hugged her and said goodnight.

  Later, as she lay in the dark, the past played like a movie in her mind. She and Cash had lived in an apartment across town, their sanctuary in which to hide from the world. They loved, they played, they fought. It was often frustrating, and sometimes exhilarating, but it was never boring.

  When he decided to attend culinary school in Florida, she understood, but that didn’t ease the pain of losing him. He would be living with his parents to save money, and her parents needed her help at the gift shop, so she couldn’t simply leave. Her life was here. So he packed up and left, choosing his new life over being with her.

  Fast forward to today, and what had she accomplished in all that time? At least he had a business and ambition. She loved helping her parents, and living with them had allowed her to build up a nice savings. But she had yet to find her path in life, and at twenty-eight, she was a bit old to be aimless.

  She hadn’t moved on with her life since their breakup. Seeing him again had made that abundantly clear.

  As she drifted into an exhausted slumber, her final thought was that she did have a goal—to save the tree, no matter what it cost. Otherwise, the wish she made on it so long ago might die along with the old oak.

  Wednesday morning dawned chilly and overcast. Cash wondered if Rachel was serious about continuing her stunt in the park. What if it rained? As stubborn as she was sometimes, he wouldn’t be surprised to see her sitting there in a raincoat, getting soaked.

  Even if she did manage to gain some local attention, it was unlikely to sway the Kennesaw’s Planning Commission from their plans. He knew how slowly the wheels turned when it came to local government. He’d had to jump through numerous hoops when he was setting up his trucks and, even now, had to be careful not to violate any rules.

  He knew more about this particular situation than anyone—he’d formed a group on social media of local food truck owners, and together they had campaigned for a place to gather their trucks. It had been his brainchild, and through hard work and persistence, they had won.

  But Rachel…

  Could he stop this train he had put in motion to please one woman? Why should he?

  She might be misguided, she might be superstitious, but she was also the only woman to ever light a fire in his soul. Since their breakup, he’d dated, but none of the encounters came close to what he and Rachel had together. Even with all their fighting. He knew the moment he saw her again the spark had definitely not died. In fact, it burst into flames, and he had no idea how to put those flames out.

  There had to be a way to make everyone happy. He wouldn’t rest until he figured it out.

  Georgia weather in mid-April could change in an instant, and so far, it wasn’t shaping up to be a pretty day. Clouds threatened rain, but only a deluge could keep Rachel from her task.

  Since Bella had to work the morning shift at their family business, Blue Tiger Imports, their father, Luke Diaz, volunteered to accompany Rachel at the park. To his credit, he didn’t comment on what she was doing or ask why, and it unnerved her. She had been prepared to defend herself—everyone else seemed to think she was foolish. She still wasn’t fully awake anyway and was glad for the silence as they drove to the park. They’d have plenty of time to talk later.

  When they arrived, Luke gathered the rope, a cooler, and his art supplies, and they walked to the old tree. A cool breeze rustled the leaves, still the bright green of new foliage. Rachel zipped up her purple windbreaker jacket and placed an old towel on the ground at the base of the trunk. Downing the last of her cappuccino, she sat with her back against the bark.

  Luke looked at her, his dark eyes edged with a hint of amusement. He was a handsome man, graying at the temples with dark, wavy hair that brushed his collar. He had the rope in hand and blinked at her, his uncertainty obvious.

  “What, Dad? I know this is weird, but it’s for a good cause. Look—people are gathering already.”

  He glanced around, then looked back at her.

  “A few joggers are not a gathering. And yes, it’s weird. But I’ll support you no matter what. You know that.”

  She did. She also knew he and her mother had attended several protests in their lives. But that was long ago, and they had settled into a comfortable suburban lifestyle. Still, it soothed her to have him here.

  “I know. So, let’s do this.”

  He wound the rope around the tree, crossing over her body several times. He tied it tighter than Bella had, his large hands easily managing the rope. Rachel grunted, and he popped his head around the tree to look her over.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, it’s good. Nice and tight.”

  She sat back and sighed, glancing around at the park. There were a few early joggers, but it would be hours before any crowds gathered. She hoped they would show, responding to the social media posts Bella had prescheduled throughout the day. They already had thousands of views of the two videos they posted, and tons of comments on their photo posts, both positive and negative.

  At least they were gaining some attention.

  A few minutes later, Luke set up his easel and began a charcoal sketch. She couldn’t see what he was drawing as he was facing her. He kept glancing at her and the tree, and a sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach.

  He laughed, probably at her alarmed expression.

  “Don’t worry, RayRay—I’m not including you in my sketch.”

  His use of her childhood nickname had a calming effect, and she laughed too.

  “I’m tied to a tree to gain the public’s attention, but somehow that’s different from you drawing a portrait of me.”

  He winked. “The public is not personal. And you’re a beautiful subject, by the way. I have drawn you, your sister, and your mother, many times. I keep those for myself.”

  He had been a talented and prolific artist at one time, and several of his works still hung in their gift shop. Now and then one would sell, paintings of mostly landscapes or local landmarks and buildings. He’d even attended fairs and festivals, setting up a booth to sell his work.

  “It’s a grand old tree,” he observed. “The markings give it character.”

  She turned her head to see several hearts with initials in them carved into the bark. Others had used marking pens or paint to write a name or draw a symbol.

  “I guess we’re not the only ones who have faith in the Love or Money Tree
.”

  He chuckled, this time a low, throaty sound. “Well, it certainly brought me love. Money, not so much. Yet.”

  “Bella was the one who drew a money symbol on the tree when she made a wish. If anyone’s going to make it come true, she will.”

  He nodded, then went to examine the tree, walking around it. When he resumed his sketching, he murmured, “I’d forgotten so much about this tree.”

  Rachel waved to a couple power-walking their way along the nearby path, and they waved back. She heard them giggle as they passed and realized how ridiculous it must look to them—a man painting a portrait of a woman tied to a tree. If they told their friends about it, maybe it would help bring attention to her cause.

  She looked back at her father, still working on his masterpiece.

  “How could you forget? If it wasn’t for this tree, you wouldn’t have met Mom. Heck, I wouldn’t even be sitting here!”

  He didn’t answer but wiped his hands on a towel. He retrieved two bottles of water from the cooler, handed one to her, and sat on the grass a few feet away.

  “You’re right. If fate hadn’t played a part, who knows where we’d all be?”

  Her arms were bound down to the elbow, but she managed to bring the bottle to her lips. After a few sips of water to quench her sudden thirst, she made a request.

  “Tell me again. I need to hear it.”

  Chapter 4

  She saw the glimmer of dusty pink on his bronzed cheeks and knew he still enjoyed telling this tale as much as she loved hearing it. He crossed his legs, leaned back, and began with the same words as always.

  “It was back in the eighties, when I was home from college on a break. So was your mother, writing in her journal in the exact spot where you’re sitting. I was over there”—he pointed to an empty, grassy area nearby—“throwing a Frisbee to my dog, Spartan.”