The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine (19 page)

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Authors: Kate Angell

BOOK: The Cottage on Pumpkin and Vine
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“Oh, long enough,” Amelia Rose said with a wink. “Let's have a sit in the kitchen, shall we? There's no one else here, we can kick back and visit a minute.”
“Well, I really need to go start—” Sidney began.
“Just relax, take a breath,” Amelia Rose said. “You can't start a business day with so much tension.”
“You can tell I have tension?”
“I could build a house with the rocks your skin is stretched over, dear,” Amelia Rose replied. “Come unwind for a second.”
They walked back into the large, old-fashioned kitchen, and Sidney's mouth watered at the aromas of soup bubbling on the stove and what smelled like cookies baking. Oh, she missed home cooking. And she missed cookies. She didn't indulge much since Nana died, and only when she made them herself. Store-bought was a joke.
“Dark chocolate chips and walnuts,” Sidney said on a sigh as she sat down at a massive old oak table, doing everything she could not to drool.
“You have a good nose,” Amelia Rose said.
“It's my favorite,” Sidney said.
Amelia Rose checked the oven just long enough for the aroma to waft out in full force, then closed the door and picked up a large spoon to stir the soup.
“My nana had a bakery when I was growing up,” Sidney said. “I worked with her there, and my favorite thing was to make the cookies.”
“She taught you the old ways,” Amelia Rose said, sitting down with two steaming mugs she'd never seen her make.
“Only from scratch,” Sidney said. “Nothing else compares.”
“Agreed.”
“What's this?” Sidney asked, already sipping. “Mmm. Oh, wow.”
“Spiced tea,” she said. “My special recipe.”
“It's amazing,” Sidney said.
“Your accent,” Amelia Rose said. “It's not Boston. There's a hint of it, but something else. Something—”
“Southern,” Sidney finished for her, smiling. “South Carolina. But I've been in Boston for most of a decade, so I guess it's all blended up.”
“Ah, I should have recognized that one,” Amelia Rose said. “My groundskeeper is from there, too. So, you left after your nana died?”
Sidney's brows moved together. “How'd you know that?”
“Because I get the feeling you would've stayed in that bakery otherwise,” she answered.
Huh. “Yes, ma'am, probably so.” Sidney said. “But she wanted me to get out of town, do something else. Something smarter. And I just couldn't stomach the small-town crap anymore, so—”
Jesus, Sidney, dial back trashing her world, will you?
“So—I left.”
“Law school?” she asked. Sidney gave her another surprised look, and the older woman laughed, eyes twinkling. “No mystery. Your assistant told me when she called.”
“Oh.” Sidney chuckled.
“Although you do have that look about you,” Amelia Rose added.
“Dressed up and desperate?”
Who
was
she? Laughing and talking like one of those people capable of that? Where was the awkward saying-everything-at-the-wrong-time, too-abrupt woman she lived with every day?
Amelia Rose laid her hand on Sidney's as she smiled with her, and a feeling like a warm blanket soaked in honey flowed over her. The older woman's eyes, sharp in spite of the soft lines that fanned from them with her smile, met Sidney's.
“Can I try something?” she asked, an odd lilt to her speech, as well. Like an accent that didn't really belong to anything or anyone but her.
“Um,” Sidney said. “Like what?”
Reaching into a basket that Sidney would swear wasn't there before, she pulled out a tiny bottle of a golden liquid.
“It's just an essential oil,” Amelia Rose said, popping the tiny cork off and pouring two drops onto a nearby burning candle. “Give me your palm.”
“Oh no,” Sidney said on a laugh, pulling her hand back. “No thanks. I'm not interested in that stuff.”
“There's no ‘stuff,' ” Amelia Rose said.
“You're a fortune-teller,” Sidney said. “I already heard.”
“I'm a truth teller,” Amelia Rose replied. “Fortune or not.” She winked at her. “And if you want that, I can provide, but that's not all I do.” Her hands had been soft against Sidney's. Soothing. “I also know a bit about natural healing.”
“I'm not sick,” Sidney said.
“Not that kind of healing,” she said. “It's just a natural way to put you at ease. Before you have to go do—whatever it is you have to do.”
Sidney met her eyes, which looked almost the same gray as her hair.
“Which you already know?”
Amelia Rose shrugged. “Only if you want me to.”
Sidney fidgeted on the bench. “What will this cost me?”
Amelia Rose shook her head. “You're my guest. It's on the house.”
Hesitantly, Sidney pushed a hand forward, watching it as if it belonged to someone else. What was she doing? She didn't have time for this hooey. She needed to be finding Orchid's uncle, find the owner, and wrap up everything today. It was just a lease dispute. Surely she could manage something that minor without screwing it up.
Yeah, not even she could buy that. Not in person. Face-to-face.
And as soon as Amelia Rose took her hand in both of hers, she didn't care.
Chapter 5
S
idney never felt more relaxed, or at ease. Hell, she hadn't felt this good after a full day's treatment at the massage and spa place everyone at work always went on about. The one she splurged on for one day, and ended up weirded out by an overly enthusiastic masseuse.
One drop of whatever the hell that was in her palm, and she knew she wanted to buy it by the barrel. Amelia Rose's hands rubbing her hand and fingers—kind of like a hand massage times infinity—because Amelia Rose's voice was like soft butter dripping over the whole thing. Calming her nerves. Giving her confidence.
Butter.
That was the smell.
Between the cookies and the smell of butter, and whatever was in that soup, Sidney was floating on a comfy high of no stress. Damn, who knew all she had to do was sniff food to chill out?
“So you aren't actually reading my palm,” Sidney said, her eyes fluttering closed as Amelia Rose worked her fingers.
“No,” Amelia Rose said. “I don't need to.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you let it all go like you just did,” she said, “I can see what I need. Most people don't relax that fast.”
“You're saying I'm easy?” Sidney asked.
Amelia Rose chuckled. “I'm saying I wish everyone was.”
“So—theoretically,” Sidney said, tilting her head. “What did you see? Since I'm so easy.”
“Well,” Amelia Rose began. “It's not like watching a movie, doing it this way.”
Ah, here comes the bullshit disclaimer.
“It's more like a sense.”
“Uh-huh,” Sidney said. “And what sense is that?”
“First of all, something very familiar,” Amelia Rose said, her brows coming together like she was puzzled. “Like we both know the same thing. That's new.”
“Hmm,” Sidney said, wondering if she could pay for her to do the other hand. She didn't buy the hokey “seeing” part, but the relaxation with the touch and the aromatherapy was worth just about anything.
“Your past will become your future.”
Sidney's eyes shot open. “Pardon?”
“Is that disturbing to you?” Amelia Rose asked.
“Um,” Sidney said, gently pulling her hand away. “Well, I've already been there, so driving in circles really isn't my thing.”
“I can get a lot more detailed with other methods,” Amelia Rose said.
“That's okay,” Sidney said on a short laugh, taking a long sip of her tea and letting the heat go all the way to her toes. “I think I'm good.”
“All right,” Amelia Rose said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Well, get settled in, you find Mr. Teasdale, and lunch will be ready at noon.”
Sidney blinked. “How'd you know I was seeing Mr. Teasdale?” She shook her head. “I thought it wasn't like watching a movie.” She held up a hand. “On second thought, I don't want to know.”
Amelia Rose smiled and pushed to her feet as the back door swung open. The man who'd been working outside strode in, pulling his sunglasses off, his mouth open to pose a question. A question that died on his lips as soon as his eyes landed on Sidney.
“Sidney, this is my groundskeeper and overseer, Sawyer Finn,” Amelia Rose said.
She kept talking. There were words about South Carolina and having things in common floating somewhere in the room, but Sidney was pretty sure he didn't hear any more than she did.
Sawyer Finn.
“Caleb,” she breathed, the word not cracking a sound.
Caleb. Looking at her. Those dark eyes making her feet sprout roots into the rug. The blond hair was a little darker, the face was a little scruffier, the lips—they were the same.
He blinked, something—almost painful crossing his face.
“Squeak,” he whispered.
And yet she started as if he'd yelled it through a megaphone. It was still a joke. He remembered what he did, even down to the nickname he had for her.
“Who?” Amelia Rose said. “You two know each other?”
Sidney shook her head, propelling her feet into motion. “No,” she managed, her voice sounding odd to her ears. “Don't know him at all.” Getting to her feet, she prayed her knees would hold her. “Excuse me, I need to go. I have—”
She couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't finish the thought. All the newly drunk and happy muscles proceeded to braid themselves tightly back together as she clickety-clacked her way out of the house, her heels moving faster than her brain.
“Sidney!” she heard him call behind her, but she kept going.
She yanked her shoes off and carried them, covering the cobblestone inches quickly in her bare feet. Got in her car and begged it to start. To hell with staying there. She'd sleep in her car in a parking lot somewhere before she—
shit
. Her overnight bag. And her coat. They were still sitting happily inside that house, probably drunk on cookie fumes, too.
Looking in the rearview mirror through hot tears she despised, she saw him standing in the front yard as she pulled away, watching her leave.
How ironic that was.
* * *
“Shit,” Sawyer said through his teeth, turning as the car veered out of sight. He raked his fingers through his hair and wished he was wearing his cap so he could throw it.
“Well, that explains a few things,” Amelia Rose began behind him. “Want to tell me—”
“No,” he said. “I don't.”
What were the odds? What were the damn odds that Sidney Jensen would show up here, hundreds of miles away from Derby, South Carolina, at this particular cottage? Looking at him with those eyes—those damn eyes that stripped him down every day of high school, that gazed up at him from her knees and made him think of all kinds of naughty things. That made him want to be better, be more, be
hers
. That gave him the courage to ask her to tutor him, to get to know more than just the body he already fantasized about. The eyes that ripped his heart out on that football field.
* * *
He couldn't care less what that chick had to say up on that podium. Or what his father had to say to them after that. He didn't hear any of it. All that was important in his world was how Sidney's fingers felt intertwined with his. The feel of her skin, the metal of her class ring under his fingers, the pulse at her wrist racing against his. How her thumb started moving, too. And how hard his dick was getting.
Everything about Sidney Jensen turned him on, and the kicker was that she had no idea. She actually believed that shit about being invisible. Good God, she had no clue just how wrecked she made him on a daily basis. How just watching her walk down the hall did him in. Watching her organize her locker like it was life and death. Watching those fucking sexy, full lips as she talked and the little crease above her nose when she concentrated. All the little things that got him through each day, and now it was about to be over. All his chances were about to go up in smoke. She was the only reason he'd stayed in school, that he'd stayed in town as long as he did, and now he was going. Somewhere. Anywhere. It didn't matter where. She'd be going off to college, and there was nothing to hang around for anymore.
Sawyer Finn.
That was a pretty cool idea.
“We have to stand,” Sidney whispered, leaning over closer.
“So let's stand,” he said with a grin, pulling her up with him.
He didn't let go, and she didn't, either. God, that was amazing.
“. . . presenting the senior class of . . .”
And then everyone was moving their tassels over. Shit, it was over. It was over. The night, the year, he'd wasted it. He could have asked her out a hundred times, kissed her a thousand. Touched her. Wound his fingers up in that hair and—shit, he needed to quit before the baggy graduation gown didn't hide it.
But he hadn't. Hadn't wanted to bring her into his world. His world that his own mother didn't want. That she ditched. His world that consisted of frozen dinners and barbs and insults and notes to do his homework, because his father wasn't going to be home.
And now the time was running out, and she was standing next to him, her hand warm in his, and people were throwing their caps and yelling and hollering, and she wasn't. She was looking up at him. With those eyes that said this was it. This was his chance.
And he took it.
Letting go of Sidney's hand, he took her face in both of his, and the gasp that escaped her lips just about sent him over the edge as he covered that incredible mouth with his own.
Everyone else disappeared as he tasted her. Lips that tasted like strawberries and excitement. Lips that he'd fantasized about forever, that were just as hungry for him, as they parted for him and took him in. Her hands landing on his chest. Fingers curling into his gown. Fuck, he was toast. Pulling her to him, he took. Took all she was giving. Gave all he had. Ignored the hell out of the noise and snickers and comments of the others next to them, he didn't care.
“Sidney,” he finally breathed against her mouth.
“Caleb,” she said on a shuddering breath. God, she was beautiful.
“Come with me.”
Those damn blue eyes shot open in shock. “Wh-what?”
“Come with me tonight,” he said. Knowing it was crazy. Knowing she'd say no. Praying she'd say yes.
“What?” she repeated, her lips swollen and puffy from his kiss. Damn, he liked that. “Tonight—where? What are you—”
“I'm out of here,” he said.
Her eyes filled with tears, socking him in the gut. She cared. Damn it. “Where are you going?” she asked.
“I don't know.”
“For how long?” she asked, the words falling off at the end. Even in all the chaos, he could still hear her every word.
“I don't know,” he repeated. “But you could come. Right now.”
“Now?” Her eyes went huge.
He took two breaths and decided to throw it out there.
“Now,” he said. “Right now. While everything's crazy.”
“But—”
“For tonight or for forever, Sidney,” he said, hearing his own words and feeling the excitement and terror they charged him with. “Your choice.”
The adrenaline rushed through his veins. It was insane. It was terrifying. But it was the time to do it. Before things like logic and reality settled in. Before he had to endure another insult or jab or disappointed look. Or just absolute invisibility. Sidney had no idea what being invisible really was.
“Caleb, I can't,” she breathed. “My nana's here, she's—she'll be down here on the field any second now. And your dad—”
“My dad won't even know I'm gone,” he said, hearing the sourness in his tone and choking it back. “I'm good. You have family, so give her fifteen minutes of picture taking, and then meet me behind the field house,” he said, his mind whirling. His hands twitching with the need to touch her again.
She laughed. Not at him, but just like he was crazy. Like they couldn't do that. Be that irresponsible. She was never irresponsible. She'd never even ridden on his bike, because her nana told her not to. It was against the rules. But shit, she was thinking about it. He could see it in her eyes.
“Fifteen minutes,” she repeated, like she was calculating the time.
“Here,” he said, pulling off his class ring. He grabbed her hand and pressed it into her palm, folding her fingers over it. “To show you I'm serious. That I'll be waiting for you.”
Her breaths were choppy as she opened her hand and then closed it, holding her fist to her chest after she pulled hers off, too.
“You don't have to do that,” he said.
She pressed it into his hand. “Kiss me again,” she whispered.
How he heard the words, he had no idea, but he had her in his arms before she could change her mind. Lifting her off her feet. Making her laugh just before he held the back of her head and kissed her for all he was worth.
* * *
Sawyer stood with his hands on the scratched metal of his truck's side rails, feeling the tightening in his chest. In the breaths he took in. That was the memory he'd chosen to carry with him all these years. Sidney laughing. Sidney with her arms wrapped around his head, kissing him back with all she had, breathing fast, wanting him, carefree for once in her life. Not the one of her crying, arms wrapped around herself, fist held tight around his ring, thinking he'd left her behind. Not the gut-wrenching guilty one of watching the only person he ever loved finally give up after an hour in the dark alone and walk away.
And now—now, he'd watched her leave again. Upset again. Because of him. Again.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, gripping the metal tighter. Pushing that look from his mind.
He never thought he'd see her again. Certainly not sitting in Amelia Rose's kitchen, his place of business, looking up at him with the same beautiful eyes and over a decade's worth of accusation.
He could go after her. Find her. Explain.
Apologize.
Or he could keep moving these stupid-ass gnomes.

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