chapter one Bethany Jones closed her eyes as the sunshine melted into her skin, tugged at the corners of her matte-pink lips, and seeped into her soul, warming her from the inside out. She breathed in, tasting the scent of freshly printed books and a tangy orange blossom candle on her tongue. "Told you summer in Pine Ridge was nice." Sydney's voice broke through Bee's thoughts like a pebble on a pond. "I never doubted you," Bee said. She turned away from the big front window of the Loving Page bookstore where she'd erected the base of a small-scale sailboat for the last of the summer displays. Sydney artfully arranged a basket of delicate scented soaps-ocean breeze and fresh linen-next to the cash register before stepping back to admire her work. "Does anyone use bar soap anymore?" Bee placed a hand on her hip. "If nothing else, people give them as gifts. And they make the cash wrap smell nice. Seriously, Syd, you've got the incredible smells in here down to a science." Sydney grinned, gazing around the bookstore she'd single-handedly transformed from dusty old shop to town jewel. "We sell so many candles. Obviously, the romance novels are still our bread and butter, but profits have completely shifted since I expanded our candle section." A brief but distinct pang of jealousy hit Bee in the chest. Her dreams didn't reside in a tiny mountain town or a romance-themed bookstore, but she filled with longing as she watched Sydney flourish in a business she worked for and helped make thrive. They'd met at a discount gym during Bee's first year living in New York City and bonded over the subpar equipment and their favorite Zumba instructor. Sydney quickly became Bee's closest, most trusted female friend, and despite their paths drifting over the past few years, they'd never lost touch. And when either of them needed the other, she was always there. "I pulled a specific box of titles I want featured in the window," Sydney said. "If they don't work with my color scheme, I'm vetoing them." Bee winked. With a roll of her eyes and a smirk, Syd turned over her shoulder, disappeared into the back office, and emerged carrying a box the size of a small child. "Here." She dropped the box next to the front door and brushed off her hands. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." Bee peered into the box of books with spines in shades of pale blue, creamy white, and dusty pink. "The Prince Problem," Bee read. "Heart of Stone. Josh and Odie: A Love Story." She lifted her gaze to where Sydney stood adjusting the soaps for the third time. "Male-male romances?" Bee asked. Without turning her attention, Syd said, "Yeah. I mean, some. Queer romance. They cover the whole spectrum. Well . . . you know, not the whole spectrum. But that's my goal." Bee turned back to the box, gazing at the spines with new affection. "Wow. Didn't realize a small town would be so accepting of such inclusive content." "You have a lot of misconceptions about this place," Sydney said. "Of course, we have the requisite bigot, the handful of misogynists, the old folks using terminology that makes your skin crawl. But the majority welcome diversity and inclusion. It's really refreshing." Bee raised a single, skeptical eyebrow. No one town could be that perfect, could it? "Okay," Sydney said. "So it's not Club Trade on a Thursday night. But it's not Mayberry, either." Club Trade on a Thursday night rivaled Mardi Gras. Bee grinned. She'd worked hard to promote the gay nightclub where she'd worked for the last five years, starting as a bartender and working her way up to assistant manager and event host. But as quickly as the warm memories surfaced, doubt and anxiety crept in to taint them. She loved the life she'd created in New York; loved the people, loved the work Club Trade did behind the scenes for the LGBTQ+ community. Loved being surrounded by supportive, like-minded allies, but lately the schedule and demands had begun to weigh on her. The club scene wore her down. She knew she couldn't continue kissing cheeks and hustling bodies in the door for much longer. Every morning, as the sun peeked over the New York City skyline, Bee crept into bed with aching feet and a nagging question in her mind: How long can I keep doing this? She'd saved every penny she'd made over the years, only indulging in the occasional vacation with her best friends, Abe and Jamie, and then a few weeks back, the day after she gave her notice at the club in anticipation of attending design school in London in the fall, her brother, Isaac, called. "Those books will fit with your window aesthetic, right?" Sydney asked. Bee's brain catapulted back to the present. She didn't have the mental wherewithal to dive into her younger brother's issues, or how, because of him, she'd deferred enrollment at the London School of Arts and Design and settled on a weekend in Pine Ridge instead of moving to the United Kingdom. She loved Sydney and missed her since she'd moved from New York, but Taylor's bar didn't have quite the same vibe as the dives and pubs of East London. "Absolutely," Bee asked. "They're perfect. And did you say you have white fabric?" "Yep." Sydney turned toward the tiny back office. "White tulle from a Christmas display. Will that work?" Bee envisioned billowing sails on her boat behind a hand-painted sign that read, Sail Away with Romance. Just because she'd describe her current relationship status as hopelessly single didn't mean she had stopped believing in love. At least, not altogether. She followed Sydney into the back office. "Ugh," Sydney said. "Crap." Bee followed Sydney's gaze to a shelf at least four feet above both their heads. "Ladder?" "I only have a stepladder," Sydney said. "My old extension ladder busted, and I haven't had a chance to get a new one yet." "There's a hardware store just down the street, right? Let's go get you a new one." "Hey, I have an idea!" Sydney turned toward Bee with bright, shining brown eyes. "I know someone who can help us." Bee's gaze narrowed. "But don't you need the extension ladder?" "It's not really in my budget at the moment." Sydney brushed past her with a toss of her hand. "Come on, I could use a break anyway." Bee stepped out into the summer sun and soaked it in again, delighting in the brief, quiet moment of small-town life. Downtown was quiet, peaceful, serene. She'd been in town only two days, but already, the charm of Pine Ridge had made its mark. "Don't fight it," Sydney said. Bee opened her eyes to find Sydney grinning smugly. She flipped the sign in the front window to Be Back Soon, locked the door, and joined Bee on the sun-dappled sidewalk. "I dunno why," Bee said, "but when I think of the Adirondacks, I think snow. Summer up here is very different." Sydney beamed as if she'd designed the season herself, before unlocking the passenger-side door of her pickup truck. "I've only told you this a thousand times. Can't believe how long it's taken me to get you up here." Bee bit her lip, the typical excuses hot on her tongue. The demands of her life in New York City consumed her, and for most of her adult life, she'd welcomed those demands with open arms: friends who requested advice, friends of friends who needed a couch to crash on, cousins of friends of friends who heard she had the best vintage-shop recommendations, hosted the best parties, knew the coolest drag queens. Call my friend Bee; she's amazing, and she knows everyone. Everything about her carefully curated life felt safe and controlled and planned. Everything except for her family. Isaac's phone call found her heading to work from the apartment above the club that she rented at a great discount. Ugh, okay, listen. Don't hate me. And don't panic. I'm in the hospital. I'm a little banged up, but I'm gonna be fine. I just . . . need some money. She'd emptied her bank account for him, and all at once her whole world felt like a prison. Enter Pine Ridge. "I'm a terrible friend," Bee said as they climbed into the truck. "Just don't forget, in another lifetime you'd also have dragged your feet on spending a whole weekend in the mountains." A smile spread across Sydney's face as the truck roared to life. "Yep," Sydney said. "Another lifetime." They pulled away from the Loving Page and drove through downtown, Sydney maneuvering the narrow roads with ease. She wore New Balance sneakers caked with mud and gray sweat shorts with a big white T-shirt Bee was sure belonged to her hunky mechanic husband, Sam. Another lifetime. Pine Ridge, New York, certainly had the vibe of a different era. But something about it had lured Sydney, caught her, reeled her in. Perhaps the hot husband she'd met the first night she arrived in town a few years back? Bee gazed out the window as the jasmine-colored forest blurred by and wondered if it might have been something else. "You're sure this person can help us?" Bee said. "Absolutely. He's tall, and he's usually got nothing to do but roam around town and bother people who actually have jobs." Bee snorted a laugh. She'd worked nonstop since she turned sixteen years old. Aimless drifting didn't often find its way into her vocabulary. "Plus," Sydney said, grinning at Bee with stars in her eyes. "He's supercute." Bee laughed louder. "Oh God, please. I've had enough big-city drifters in my lifetime. I don't need a small-town drifter for comparison." The devious smile sat on Sydney's lips as they made their way around sharp turns and meandering bends in the country roads, eventually turning onto an unpaved drive laden with potholes and dips that forced the pickup truck to amble and rock. "Tell me he lives in a tent," Bee said as the trees around them grew more densely packed. Sydney remained silent, her grin speaking volumes. One last turn and the massive home appeared before them. "Wow," Bee said. "Okay, so. Not a tent." Mountain dream home was more like it. Soaring, dark wood beams and towering windows from ground to sky displayed a glittering lake beyond, which anyone approaching could see clear from the other side of the house. The whole scene belonged on the cover of Log Cabin Monthly. Bee forced her mouth shut as she climbed out of the truck and hurried after Sydney to the looming front door. "This place is insane," she whispered. "Is this guy a reclusive billionaire or something?" "Former football player," Sydney said. "And he's not a recluse. Remember I told you about that annual bake-off? The one Jared's fiancZe entered? The guy who lives here was a judge, and after spending a few weeks in Pine Ridge, he loved it so much he decided to stay." Bee tilted her head, waiting for Sydney to acknowledge the familiar story. "Someone happened to find themselves in Pine Ridge and ended up loving it so much they moved here? Gee, where've I heard that one before?" "I'm telling you," Sydney said. She raised her hand and knocked on the door. "This place has something special." Around them, birds chirped merrily, the trees rustled in the breeze, and tiny, hidden creatures snapped twigs in the distance. But inside the house, nothing stirred. Sydney knocked again. Silence. "Hm," she said. "His car's here." "Forget it," Bee offered. "There's gotta be somebody in town who has an extension ladder, right? Or someone taller than five foot four?" Sydney worried her bottom lip and peered through the towering front windows into the exposed living room. "Yeah, but . . ." A sneaking suspicion crept into Bee's brain. "This isn't a setup, is it, Sydney darling?" Syd's cheeks bloomed with color. She avoided Bee's stare. "Because," Bee continued, "you can put the juiciest slab of Pine Ridge man meat in front of me, and I'm not biting." "Ew." Sydney grimaced. "Was that intentionally off-putting?" "Oh, come on. You stock nothing but romance novels in your store. I thought you'd have heard everything by now." Sydney rolled her eyes and meandered off the front porch. "I stock the best romance. None of my authors would dare write anything so nasty. Come on, maybe he's out back." They circumvented the house and picked their way down a sloping green lawn toward the lake, glorious and sparkling in the midday summer sun. Maybe Bee would never move to the tiny mountain town, but she began to see why other people did. Thirty feet from a rickety dock floated a barn-red canoe, untethered and drifting lazily on the placid surface of the lake. "That sucks," Bee said. "What?" "His boat came untied, right? He's gonna have to . . . I dunno. Swim out there and get it?" Bee's legs trembled at the thought. Sydney placed two fingers in her mouth and whistled, the shrill bleat slicing across the water. Like a prairie dog rustled from his hole, a shirtless, tousle-haired man popped up from the boat. "Hey!" Sydney waved an arm over her head. "Got a sec?" Shirtless ran a hand through his dark hair, snagged a paddle from the depths of the boat, and crossed the water in one swift, sharp line. The closer he got, the drier Bee's mouth became. The man was cut. Tight abs twisted and flexed as he dipped the paddle into the water-left and right and back again-drawing her gaze to the smooth planes of his chest and shoulders. The guy had muscles she didn't know existed. An elaborate, tribal turtle tattoo covered his smooth, brown skin from shoulder to elbow. The boat sped toward the dock, and Bee's heart crawled into her throat as she envisioned the old heap splintering into a thousand pieces as it slammed against the shore. But in one swift motion, Shirtless leaped out of the canoe and onto the dock, pausing the forward motion and sending the vessel bobbing back into the body of the lake. "What's up?" He lumbered toward them, a crooked smile hanging on his curvy lips. Black mesh gym shorts hung on his muscular frame, and it took everything in Bee not to gawk. She'd been around all kinds of beautiful men in her life, but Shirtless tickled something different inside of her. "Denny, this is my friend Bee. Bee, Denny." His dark eyes lighted on her, flickered across her chest and back up to her face. Despite the fact that she wore a crew-neck tank top and loose-fitting, tie-dyed lounge pants, her skin prickled as if he saw clear through her clothes. He, on the other hand, showed no signs of any such shame despite being distinctly more naked. Excerpted from Bold Love by Lauren Accardo All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
