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  Although I have, ugh had, a successful career, a healthy social life, and share a gorgeous apartment with my best friend in a trendy downtown neighborhood, the life I’ve built for myself in the windy city feels lacking.

  This glorious epiphany smacked me upside the head while I was at work, and everything derailed from there. My day started like any other day, and everything was fine...until it wasn’t. For the rest of my life I’ll remember the exact moment my sanity snapped. I was working on a start-up company’s branding I had been assigned to revamp when my overbearing manager, Lindsay, stopped by my desk.

  Color me surprised when she told me I was late on the assignment I was given two days ago. Turns out the project had originally been assigned to her, and she gave it to me last minute. She wasn’t able to give a legitimate reason for doing so, but I know it’s because she’s a phony. For two years I’ve worked under her, and she habitually takes credit for other people’s work. I thought I could grin and bear it in hopes that she’d promote me or retire, but I belatedly realized that would never happen. She’s a vulture who lets others do the work and then proceeds to hover over their success like it’s a dead carcass, ready to snatch it and claim it as her own. As she rambled on I stood up, told her to go fuck herself, and announced I was quitting.

  Now I’m back home, overindulging in my favorite bottle of red, and contemplating my predicament. When I moved to Chicago six years ago, I was filled with a sense of purpose and felt alive, inspired even. I’ve lost those feelings and don’t know what’s missing that’s causing me to feel so incomplete. Lord knows I need to figure my life out, I’m just not sure how.

  Deciding to take action and not sit around moping, I pour the last dredges of wine into my glass. “I’m going to figure this out,” I whisper to myself. My words are soft, a promise. Draining the remaining wine, I say more strongly, “Something will change.”

  One

  August

  “I can do this,” I quietly say to myself as my fingers nervously grip the steering wheel of my rental car. I have no choice. I didn’t pack my bags and hop on a plane to Tennessee for nothing. Thinking back to what brought me here, I strengthen my resolve. Although I can feel my nerves buzzing below my skin, ready to pick back up once I start thinking about the many open questions in my life, a small smile steals over my face. I’m back home. I’m beyond ready to rediscover my sense of purpose, and I think going back to my roots will do the trick.

  After partaking in too much wine the day I quit my job and spending a considerable chunk of time trying to figure out my next move, I decided to hit the refresh button on my life. I need to slow things down and take a break from city life, which is why I’m entering the city limits of Starwood, Tennessee. Not only is Starwood my hometown, but the apple orchard my parents own will be the perfect place to unplug and find myself again.

  As I drive through town I’m bombarded with memories of my childhood: picking apples with my brother, baking pies with my grandma, taking a dip in the creek when the humidity was unbearable, and jumping into a huge pile of colorful leaves with my friends. There are so many wonderful memories here. The closer I get to my family’s property, the stronger my feelings of nostalgia and knowing I’m where I need to be are.

  Finally, I see the entrance to Shady Layne Orchard. My parents’ home sits on fifty acres of lush, green grass and soft, rolling hills. As I follow the gravelly driveway I look at the orchard in the distance. Even though I grew up here, the sight still manages to take my breath away. The trees are tall and stately, dotted with jewel-hued apples and adorned with slender branches reaching up to the sky like dainty lady fingers. Facing the orchard is the old barn we had converted into the cider shop, its white paint chipped and weathered.

  I pull up to the side of the house and grab my phone. I promised I’d send Cade, my best friend and roommate, a text so he’d know I made it home safely.

  Me: Hey CC, I made it to TN! :)

  My phone pings with a response almost immediately. I smile to myself as I think about my protective bestie.

  Cade: Good, I was getting worried. You okay?

  Me: I will be. Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here?

  Cade: Don’t be silly. Go find yourself. I’ll be here if you need me. :)

  Me: You’re seriously the best.

  Cade: Glad you recognize that.

  Me: Haha okay, I gotta go. I’ll stay in touch. Love ya!

  Cade: Love you, too.

  Me: P.S.: I left 3 months’ worth of rent money in the cookie jar. :P

  Cade: It’s staying there. I don’t need it. Now stop stalling. Go see your family.

  Me: Fine, bossy man.

  Cade: You know it. ;)

  Just texting Cade makes me feel better. Feeling lighter, I tuck my phone away and bound into the house.

  “Mama! Papa! Is anyone home?” I shout. I’m greeted with silence, which is unusual. The house is usually buzzing with some sort of activity. I look at the key rack and see a note in my mother’s handwriting tacked to it.

  Mac, your father and I are working the welcome booth at the farmers' market. We’re sorry if we missed you, sweetie. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge. We aired out your room for you so you can take a nap if you need one. We’ll see you soon. We love you!

  I hold onto the note for a few seconds, thinking about what I should do. Should I stay home and take a nap? No, I should take advantage of my renewed energy. Putting the note back down, I turn around and head back outside. Farmers' market it is.

  I see my parents before they see me. As I amble over to the welcome booth, a fond smile plastered on my face, I take a good look at them. The signs of aging have graced them as gently as newly fallen snow. There are more gray hairs and more wrinkles than I’m used to, but they look like they’re doing well. Finally, my mother catches my eye and runs around the booth to me, her warm arms encasing me in a tight hug.

  “Oh Mac, baby, I missed you so much!” my mother cries excitedly. “It’s so nice to have you back home. You look so beautiful. How long are you stayin’ with us?” I can tell by her expression that she’s hoping it’ll be forever.

  “I’m not sure, Mama. I plan on staying for the rest of summer so, at the very least, you have me until the end of September,” I say, just as another set of arms hugs me from the side.

  “Then two months will have to do, sweetie,” my father says from my left. “We’re just glad you’re back.”

  I feel my eyes water and stay enveloped in my parents’ dual embrace for a few seconds longer. As I pull away, I ask them how much longer they’ll be. After hearing they only have another half hour until their shift ends, I decide to walk around and look at the different booths selling local produce or homemade goods.

  I used to love coming to these with my family when I was a child. I can still remember the feeling of pride when people bought our apples and cider. Maybe I’ll get the chance to do it again since it’s almost that time of year. I take my time walking around and make sure to hang back from large groups of people, careful not to draw too much attention to myself. Then, amid the low hum of soft and polite Southern drawls I didn’t realize I missed, I hear a distinct masculine laugh. I turn slowly, hoping that I’m wrong in who the owner of the engaging sound is. Unfortunately my suspicions are correct as I spy Lawson Westbrook, my older brother’s best friend and the man I idolized growing up. I feel like I’ve seen a ghost as I discreetly gaze at him. He hales from old money and is the walking definition of a true Southern gentleman. On top of that, his innate charm and rugged good looks make him a catch any single woman in town hopes to end up with.

  Thankfully he isn’t facing me so I stare a little longer than is polite. Somehow I managed to avoid seeing him on my infrequent visits back home but God, he looks better than he did six years ago. At thirty-one he’s seven years my senior, and he’s only gotten better looking with age. At well over six feet tall, he stands with the confidence of someone comfortable with his bo
dy, his muscular frame clearly at ease. I drink in his short, golden brown hair and trim facial hair that’s a smidgen darker. I can’t see his eyes, but I know they’re an arresting shade of green that puts spring leaves and budding apples to shame. As I stare at him, an old memory surfaces from when I was eighteen.

  “MacIntosh Layne, you get your bum down here right now before we’re late to your own graduation dinner!” my mother calls.

  As I put the last curl in my hair I yell back down, “I’ll be right there! I’m just grabbing my shoes!” Spraying on some perfume, I take one last look at my reflection before heading down. My new little black dress fits to the middle of my thighs and showcases a demure sweetheart illusion neckline. I wish it was more form-fitting but I have to work with what I have, which is a distinct lack of curves. The dress, though beautiful, covers my lanky body like a sheet. I pray the person I hope finally notices me won’t catch that little detail. My long brown hair looks amazing and bouncy, thanks to my curling iron, and my hazel eyes pop under my long lashes that I enhanced with the help of some mascara. Finally satisfied with my appearance, I grab my shoes and head downstairs.

  My family ends up taking me to my favorite Italian restaurant in town for my graduation dinner. I’m a strange mix of anxious and excited because Lawson, my childhood crush, is here. Now that I’m eighteen and a high school graduate, I hope he’ll see me as a woman. Specifically, I hope he sees me as a woman he’d like to date.

  During dinner, I can’t help but glance at him every chance I get. At one point my brother, Smith, catches me gazing at his friend. I feel the blush staining my cheeks and quickly look away when I catch the funny look he gives me. As dinner continues I’m asked by friends of the family what my plans are for college.

  “I’ll either stay here or go to Chicago,” I say. “I haven’t been able to decide between the graphic design program at Tennessee State or the one at the University of Illinois. I’ll make a decision eventually.”

  My family expresses their wish that I stay in-state, but I don’t tell them what’s going through my head. The truth of it is, if there’s a chance of anything happening with Lawson I’ll be staying in Tennessee.

  As dinner is wrapping up, I see my chance to talk to Lawson alone when he gets up to use the restroom. My brother soon follows, but I think the difference in timing will work in my favor. I wait a moment and excuse myself to the ladies’ room. I’m drawing in a breath of courage as I make it to the hallway but stop in my tracks when I hear the low murmur of male voices.

  “Law, I’m not kidding. I think Mac has a crush on you,” Smith says.

  I feel the blood drain from my face in mortification and wait for Lawson’s reaction.

  “Smith, you’re crazy. Even if it were true, why would you tell me?” asks the object of my affection for so many years.

  “Because if you think she does you better not hurt her feelings.”

  “Man, she’s like one of the guys. Besides, she’s too young for me. I don’t date little girls. I prefer women. I do think you’re wrong though. She sees me as another older brother. Anyway, it’ll never happen. Ever. I can promise you that.”

  I can’t take anymore. I spin around, tears in my eyes, and sit at an empty table far enough away that I won’t be seen as I try and regain my composure. I can’t even be angry at Smith because I know he was only looking out for me. What guts me is now I know for certain Lawson still sees me as a little girl. I look down and realize my hands are shaking. Knowing I’ve been gone for too long, I take a fortifying breath and wipe the tears from under my eyes before walking back. So much for a happy graduation day. It looks like I’m moving to Chicago.

  “MacIntosh Layne, darlin’ is that you?” The feminine voice rips me from my flashback quicker than it takes to fry okra. I respond to the voice and, as I turn, I’m relieved to see Lawson hasn’t noticed me yet. Thank heavens for small favors.

  Once I notice the person who spoke to me, a genuine smile makes an appearance. Lawson’s younger sister, Langley, is a year younger than me but someone I’d consider a friend. Turning so my profile is to her brother, I give her my full attention.

  “It is me. How are you doin’, Langley? It’s been forever!” I haven’t seen her in probably three or four years, but she’s bloomed beautifully. God help the eligible bachelors. Good looks definitely run in the Westbrook family, and Langley must undoubtedly be the belle of this town. Taller and curvier than I am with her mother’s inky black hair, she’s a stunner. I can’t help but notice that both of the Westbrook children inherited their father’s striking green eyes.

  “I’m doin’ all right. Just trying to sell some pies. How are you? You look great by the way!” she says with a sweet smile.

  “Thank you, so do you! I mean it. The men must be chasing you around this town,” I say before we both laugh. “I’m okay, but I’m excited to be back in town. Did you make all these?” I take a glance at the pies and assorted baked goods, and everything looks like it was made by a professional. Not only that, it all looks downright delicious. I feel my mouth start to water. Baked goods are my weakness.

  “Sure did! I guess all those failed attempts at baking as a kid paid off. Would you like a sample?” She must see the drool collecting because she’s already placing a plated sample of what I think is cherry pie in my hand.

  I let out an involuntary groan as I take the first bite, the flavors bursting on my tongue. The crust is buttery and flaky, the cherries tart and sweet. “Hell in a handbasket, Langley. This is amazing! I hate to say this, but this is better than my grandma’s pie—God rest her soul—and that’s saying something.”

  “Oh, stop it,” she blushes. She seems a little uncomfortable with the praise but recovers quickly by grabbing a pie. “It’s just a hobby of mine. Here,” she hands me the pie, “this is on me since you’re in town, and it’s been forever since I’ve seen you. I’m not sure how long you’re here for, but we should get together and catch up.”

  “You are too sweet. I can’t take this,” I halfheartedly say. Thankfully she’s persistent. “I’m here for the summer and would love to meet up.”

  We make small talk for a couple minutes before I realize the time. My parents should be done with their shift any minute now. As I apologize for my hasty departure we exchange numbers, and I promise her that we’ll get together soon. With my new pie in hand I head toward the parking lot. This summer should prove to be very interesting. One thing I know for certain is that while I’ll be seeing Langley again, I won’t be seeing her brother. This summer I’ll be avoiding Lawson Westbrook at all costs.

  Lawson

  “Lawson, when are you gonna let me ask your sister out?” Jude asks, his eyes and tone pleading for a chance.

  “Never, man. Ever. Even if I gave my blessing, she’d eat you up and spit you out alive. You know how she is. She won’t date anyone.” I say this in a joking manner, but my coworker knows I’m not kidding. There’s no way this guy is getting near my baby sister.

  “That’s just cause she hasn’t gone out with me yet. I’d change her mind.”

  “The answer is still no,” I say a little more seriously.

  He relents with a defeated sigh. “Fine, I’ll leave it alone. For now. Maybe I’ll ask out the pretty thing talking to her. Do you know who she is?”

  I turn and try to find my sister’s booth. It takes a second to locate her, and once I do my eyes zero in on the woman in question.

  “Not sure, never seen her before. Maybe she’s new in town,” I murmur as we both stare.

  I can’t see her face since she’s standing with her side to us, but judging solely off of her profile, I really like what I see. A lot. Tall and slender, mystery woman has curves in all the right places. Not overly curvy, but definitely not thin, her body is showcased in a tight t-shirt and jeans. My gaze travels up her body starting at her toes, and I decide this is a body I wouldn’t mind getting to know intimately. As I stare, I take in hair that looks long, smooth, and is
the color of rich milk chocolate. I wish I could see her face.

  Before either of us can say anything else, mystery woman wraps up her conversation with my sister. As she turns and walks in the opposite direction, hair swishing and hips swaying gently with each step, I make a decision. Somehow, I’m going to find out who this woman is and introduce myself.

  Thirsty for more?

  I hope you enjoyed this excerpt of my first book, darlin’! If you’d like to see what’s brewing between Mac and Lawson, you can grab Sin and Cider on Amazon or read it for free on KindleUnlimited.

  About the Author

  Kimberly Reese published her first novel in 2017 and has since been hard at work writing more steamy stories. She grew up in a military family and is currently working on her tan in Arizona. When she isn't writing, you can catch her reading, traveling, resisting the urge to adopt more dogs, or spending time with family.

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