Speak From The Heart: a small town romance Read online

  “Well, then I guess I won’t be seeing you around, Emily Post of Chicago.” I press off the railing, placing the beer bottle at my lips and chugging down the last of the refreshing liquid.

  “Guess not,” she says, her voice dropping. For some reason, we both sound disappointed in that declaration.

  + + +

  “And then . . .” I pause for emphasis as my family sits around me at the table. We’re at Town Tavern. Even though it’s a Thursday ritual, I needed a break this Saturday evening and called my elder brother, Tom, who brought his wife, Karyn, out with him. I like her, and as a couple, they are the link between the Carter and the Scott families. Tom and I are the same height and build, but he is opposite me in most everything else. He’s dark where I’m light. He’s also still the class clown while I’m more the serious type.

  I used to know how to have fun, and laugh, and be a good time.

  Thinking of a good time, Sami’s fingers stroke the back of my neck. It feels nice, but I’m not sure I’m going to end this night interested in what she’s offering.

  I have an annoying blonde on my brain.

  And as luck would have it, the focus of my thoughts walks into the bar on the arm of Gabe Carpenter at that very moment. Fucking Gabe Carpenter. I hate that guy for one main reason and a million small ones.

  “Emily Post of Chicago,” my brother announces to the entire bar, which consists of a row of booths on one wall, the bar along the opposite wall, and a string of scattered tables in between.

  What the . . .? My brother’s making a huge fuss of her and gripping her elbow, guiding her to take a seat at our table. I don’t want her at the table, and I definitely do not want AG at our table. Asshole Gabe.

  “Seems appropriate Gabe found her,” I mutter to myself and Sami stops stroking my neck. Karyn meets my eyes, warning me to play nice, although she’s equally confused why my brother is making a big deal of the new girl. The temporary girl. He met her yesterday when she came into the shop with her grandmother’s old radio, and he fawned over her as though he hadn’t seen a pretty woman in years.

  Damn flirt.

  Good thing Karyn would kick his ass if he even thought of straying, which he would never do. While Debbie and I were high school sweethearts like Tom and Karyn, my brother and his wife are the real deal. Sweet. Committed. They have girls in high school and a son in middle school. Tom and I run the repair shop together, and Karyn is a nurse.

  “Jess?” Sami prompts from beside me, and I forgot what I was even talking about. My eyes remain on my brother as he animatedly speaks to Emily and Gabe sitting next to her.

  As Sue and Joe Carpenter’s late-in-life miracle child, he’s something special to them. But he didn’t have a whole lot of other people fooled, except for my ex-wife. Or maybe she’s the one who fooled him.

  I don’t care. I hate them both.

  Still, it’s fitting to see someone like Gabe with someone like Emily.

  They’re made for each other.

  “How’s it hanging, Gabe?” I toss to the end of the table. Real mature, Jess. But seriously—he can eat me.

  “Very well, Jess. And you?”

  “Seems you found yourself another catch,” I say, my meaning clear.

  “Ignore these boys,” Karyn says, leaning over to Emily, hoping to defuse what she knows I won’t be able to contain. “They act like they haven’t seen a pretty thing in years, so let the pissing match begin.”

  “No one’s pissing,” Tom jokes, thinking he’s funny, only I have another retort.

  “He pissed on my parade.”

  “What’s your problem?” Emily snaps from the other end of the table.

  What does she mean? I said he, not she, but hellfire is blazing from her.

  “Why don’t you go back to luring children into your backyard?” It’s a low blow, but I’m still not certain why Katie was drawn to Elizabeth’s garden or the fiery woman sitting opposite me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “How’d you tempt my daughter into your yard?”

  “Katie?” Karyn interjects, looking from me to Emily and back. My sister-in-law knows I’m extra protective of my daughter, and the reasons. “Katie went into her yard?”

  “She’s Elizabeth Parrish’s granddaughter.” I tip my beer bottle in Emily’s direction, and Karyn swings her head back to Emily. Her dark head of curls flap like she’s watching a tennis match.

  “How did that happen?” Karyn asks.

  That’s the very question I’d like answered.

  “Are you implying I was trying to kidnap your daughter?” Emily’s voice rises, her astonishment at my accusation evident. I might have gone a bit far. She wasn’t kidnapping her, but I can’t seem to let it go.

  “Give her candy? Make her false promises?” It is something Debbie would have done. She’d give her candy, which was a hazard, and make her bogus promises, which she never intended to keep.

  “Are you insane?” Emily stammers. “I’m not a kidnapper.” She stands as she speaks and the entire bar goes quiet, everyone looking at her. Her face pinks, and a glass of wine wobbles before falling over as her leg hit the underside of the table when she stood.

  “Everybody, calm down,” Tom says, rushing to stand and throwing napkins on the liquid spreading across the table. “It isn’t a party until something gets spilled.”

  I don’t move. Emily doesn’t either. Our eyes lock, and we glare at one another.

  God, she’s pissing me off, and I don’t even know why.

  She’s under my skin, which sparks and prickles when she looks at me like that.

  And I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I could lay her out on the table.

  Screw the crowd.

  No, screw her.

  Fuck, I scrub a hand down my face to calm my thoughts. My palm heads to my chin when I open my eyes, and see she’s hoofing past the table.

  “Emily,” Gabe calls after her, but I’m not about to let Gabe Carpenter chase another woman.

  “I have her,” I say, standing tall and blocking his way to the exit. I ignore Sami’s plea for me to sit down. Just to be clear, in case Gabe is suddenly hard of hearing, I repeat myself with emphasis. “I have her.”

  Rule 3

  Ask for forgiveness or you’ll never earn it.

  [Emily]

  “Wait.”

  Gazing over my shoulder, I see the outline of a man. Tall, lanky, and wearing an unseasonably warm leather jacket. His near-shoulder length hair hangs around his face.

  Oh, no. Not him.

  I spin around and walk quicker, my strappy high-heeled sandals only taking me so fast. Nana made me wear a dress to the Mueller’s and the shoes I wore are too flimsy to run in.

  “I said, wait.” He huffs, catching up to me, a warm hand circling my upper arm and forcing me to stop. The electric shock from his touch stills me as though I’ve been zapped into submission. Goddammit, why does this keep happening with him? My body rattles while he seems so unaffected.

  “What do you want?” I bark, whipping around to face him.

  “I . . .” He releases his hand and immediately swipes it through his hair. The locks cascade back into place around his neck after he combs through them. “I wanted to apologize.”

  My hip juts, and I cross my arms, waiting on more. “That’s it?” I say when he doesn’t explain himself.

  “What more do you want?” His jaw clenches—a tic I’ve noticed—but it’s not enough. He can’t tempt me to his dark side with his edgy jaw covered in sexy scruff.

  “Nothing.” I twist away from him but don’t make it more than a step when he stops me again with his hand on my arm.

  “Don’t walk home in the dark.”

  I look around us at the streetlamps placed in intervals along the road and the one stoplight on this sleepy Main Street. A mess of cars fill the diagonal parking spaces.

  “What could possibly happen to me here?” I ask, exasperated and frustrated by his nea
rness. I’d noticed at the barbecue earlier he cleans up nicely. He also smells nice. Still sunshine, still manly, but also fresh.

  “You never know,” he teases, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness. I want to laugh. It can’t be dangerous around here, but his concern shakes me.

  “I’m not going back to the bar,” I state, staring down the street to the Town Tavern, the singular hangout in town. Gabe Carpenter walked over to Nana’s and found me sitting on her front porch, and I took him up on his offer for a drink. He’s a decent-looking man in his khaki pants and polo shirt. Much more my type than the biker image before me. As Nana’s next-door neighbor growing up, Grace and I saw Gabe often enough on our summer visits here. I couldn’t quite say he was a friend, but he was more than an acquaintance, and I was desperate for a reprieve from Nana’s place. I’m overwrought with decisions about what needs to be done.

  “Fine. I’ll walk you home.”

  “Why? Don’t you need to get back to your girlfriend?” I snap. Sue Carpenter let it slip that Jess was divorced, and I noticed that dark-haired woman with her long nails scratching at his neck. I suppose they fit. Her, all big hair and tight tube top, and . . . I stop my train of thoughts when I realize I’m being petty because of the attraction I feel toward him.

  Repulsion, you mean. You can’t stand him.

  “She’s not my girlfriend, and I’m walking you home,” he grumbles.

  “Date?” I interrogate.

  “It’s not like that. Let’s just walk.”

  I should continue questioning him, but I know what not like that means. Still, she was touching him, so his suggestion to walk with me confounds me even more than his warning not to walk home alone, and my brows lift.

  “Why?” I repeat.

  “Because I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  Now I laugh.

  “What? You think I can’t?” His voice rises, irritation lacing the edges.

  “You’ve done everything to prove to me you aren’t.” I tip my chin like he did to me yesterday, when he dismissed me like I’m beneath him. I’ll have him know I’m an educated, successful woman. Not just an electrical technician who runs a harbor town repair business. A hot electrical technician who runs his own business. Dammit, I can’t even muster a real comparison that does make me better than him.

  “Alright, forgive me again.” He licks his lips, and my sight follows the trail of his tongue. He also does an exaggerated twirl of his wrist and then bows before me like I’m a queen. He’s an ass.

  Righting himself, he waves forward a hand, indicating I should walk before him, and I do. I’m stumped by this whole interaction. I can’t keep up with his diverse personalities, and I feel too bone weary to try.

  Jess falls in line next to me and we take several steps in heavy silence. The late evening around us is quiet. The water of the large lake laps off in the distance.

  “Do you really think I’d kidnap a child?” I ask, astonished by the accusation.

  “I don’t know why I said that.” He swipes his hand through his loose locks again, and they cascade back in place when he releases them. He’s so not my type, but I’m still so attracted to him. Well, at least his looks—definitely not his attitude—and it’s strange to me. Why am I reacting like this?

  Grace would tease me it’s because I haven’t gotten laid in a while.

  Because perhaps all your suits and ties haven’t been worth the trouble.

  After another step, I realize my feet are killing me. These strappy shoes aren’t made for walking, and without thought, I reach for Jess’s arm for support. Bending at the waist to slip off one, I lower my bare foot and then remove the other.

  “What the . . .?” He pauses when he sees what I’m doing. “You’re going to hurt your feet.”

  “They already ache. Besides, I can’t keep up with your longer stride in these.” Understandably, he’s rushing our walk to get me home and return to his friends. However, I’m not about to race him in my high heels.

  Holding the ankle straps looped in my fingers, he surprises me by tugging them free from my fingertips and dangling them from his. It’s quite a sight. Tall man in leather holding delicate, heeled sandals. He’s no Prince Charming, and I’m not Cinderella. I own these shoes. I earned them on my own.

  We continue in silence a few more paces when he opens his mouth and quickly shuts it. We’ve slowed quite a bit even with the removal of my shoes. I consider it might be nice to loop my arm in his, might be romantic to stroll these dark quiet streets in this quaint sleepy town, but this isn’t a date. There’s nothing romantic about this man.

  “Katie is . . . special,” he interjects on my thoughts. “Not just because she’s my daughter, but because she doesn’t speak. I’m protective of her because of that.”

  “That makes sense. You’re her father.”

  Looking over at me, he scowls when our eyes meet and then he continues speaking. “I’m not telling you about her for your sympathy. We don’t need pity.”

  My mouth pops open but he pierces me with a silencing gaze.

  “She seems to have taken an immediate liking to you, and she won’t voice to me why. But she isn’t going to talk to you either, no matter how hard you try.” There’s a warning in his words.

  Don’t get involved.

  “I’m sensing you don’t like me very much.” I state the obvious.

  “It isn’t you.”

  I laugh bitterly. “It isn’t me, it’s you, right?” How many times have I heard that?

  “We had fun, Em. It isn’t you, it’s me.” And then the next girl would be the right girl. She’d be the one.

  “Not exactly,” he replies but offers nothing else.

  We soon arrive at Nana’s because of her proximity to town.

  “So, I guess this is me,” I tease, reaching out for my shoes, but he doesn’t relinquish them. He steps closer to me and our fingers brush. I’ve decided to just let the current flow. It’s all one-sided anyway.

  Turning his head toward Nana’s home, he mutters, “Lots of work to do on this place.” Now, he’s stating the obvious. “Can’t get it all done in a weekend.”

  How did he know I was only here until tomorrow? I’ve been thinking I might need to take an emergency vacation. I can’t leave this place like it is, or Nana like she is. I need to talk to my sister before I can make a decision, though.

  “Might have to change my plans and stay a week. But only one week, and then I’m outta here.” I give him my best gangster voice, but he doesn’t crack a smile. He’s so . . . hard-edged, and he still hasn’t answered my question. What is it he doesn’t like about me?

  “One week, you say?” His voice drifts as his attention remains on Nana’s sagging front porch.

  “I’m efficient,” I state, defending myself, though the job before me is rather daunting.

  “Guess I might see you around then.” He turns toward me, modifying his statement from earlier in the evening where he clearly said he wouldn’t see me, as if he hoped he wouldn’t ever see me again.

  Well, too bad for him. “Yep. See you.”

  My voice drifts as I realize how close we stand to one another, staring into each other’s eyes. My chest almost presses against his jacket. My fingers twitch to reach out for him. The soft noises of the night suddenly sound like a symphony. The darkness feels like a tender blanket and my skin prickles under the weight of it.

  Will he kiss me?

  I take a giant step back with the thought. What a ridiculous idea.

  We aren’t on some date, I remind myself. Jess’s brows pinch as I move away from him and he imitates the chin tip I gave him earlier. Without a word, he spins on his booted heels and heads down Nana’s block, only I notice he doesn’t turn left in the direction of town and the bar.

  I also realize too late he’s walked off with my favorite silver sandals.

  + + +

  “He is the most miserable man,” I tell my sister Grace when I finally call her th
at night. “He’s surly and brooding and just . . . gah.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Grace says, her voice dreamy. My sister has the fairy-tale life—went to college and fell in love with the first man she met. His plan was the military while she wanted to be a lawyer, but she ended her education with a dual degree in PoliSci and history along with a diamond ring on her finger. Immediately, she had a baby, then another one, one more, and score number four. Now, baby five is on the way and her husband Mark jokes that his basketball team will be complete. Five boys.

  I’m not jealous. I’m not.

  I always thought I’d have kids. Someday. It wasn’t something I spoke of often, especially considering it isn’t necessarily date conversation. Still, I’d been holding out for a happily ever after with the hope one day a baby would come.

  For another moment, I consider Jess. He’s a single father, something else my sister found intriguing.

  “That means he’s lonely for adult company and looking for companionship.”

  What is she, a fortune teller?

  “I don’t want to talk about him,” I say, although I’ve already been speaking about him for the past ten minutes. His broody edge. His jaw tick. That stupid bandana.

  Definitely not a prince charming.

  At thirty-four, I’m thinking less and less of fairy tales coming true for me anyway. My happily ever after rests in my career.

  Does it really, Emily?

  I’ve been passed over for story after story in the last decade. I mean, I’ve been writing articles—but not the ones I want. The special interest ones. The personal tales. The romantic sort. Instead, I write newsworthy information on the trivial. Union strikes. Local fundraisers. City crime.

  Not that these things aren’t important on some level, but it isn’t what I thought I’d be covering some ten years after I started. I work for City’s Edge, a newspaper dedicated to the suburban side of the third-largest city in the United States. My boss was a mentor of sorts when I began, but as the years have rolled on I’ve begun to question his ethics. He always passes me up for another writer.