Mountain Charm Read online

  Angelina couldn’t help but grin. Who would be her fountain of romantic optimism when Maddie moved away?

  “Speaking of dresses, tell Nick he owes me. You looked so beautiful in it, but he would have hated unlacing that corset.”

  Maddie wrinkled her nose. “It was really uncomfortable, but I was willing to deal with it because it made my boobs look so, so good.”

  The girls laughed all the way home, and Angelina savored it, because she knew it could be one of the last times they’d have the chance. Maddie would be busy planning her wedding, and Angelina would be taking care of her mom after her surgery.

  But for tonight, they were just two best friends, giggling like teenagers and talking about boobs and boys.

  When Dylan asked if he could have Angelina all to himself for the weekend, she had no idea how lucky she would get. Celia was spending Saturday at a bluegrass festival in Strawberry Plains. It was only about an hour drive, but Celia and her friend chose to spend the night at a hotel and drive back home on Sunday.

  Angelina didn’t ask the name of the friend, and in return, Celia didn’t ask where Dylan would be sleeping on Saturday night.

  Ignorance was bliss for all involved.

  Angelina and Dylan were cuddled in her bed, pretending to watch a movie. Instead, they alternated kisses with conversation, and Dylan admitted he’d quit his job.

  “But you loved your job.”

  “I love to write, but it wasn’t as if I wanted to work there the rest of my life anyway. I have a few freelance offers. It’ll be fine.”

  “So there’s no article?” Angelina asked.

  “No article.”

  Her face fell as emotion bubbled inside her. Without a story, Dylan had no reason to stay in Maple Ridge.

  Everybody leaves.

  “Hey, I thought you’d be happy about that. You never wanted me to write the feature.”

  “I know, but . . .” Her voice trailed off. She took a deep breath. “So, I guess you’re . . . headed back to Nashville soon.”

  Dylan frowned. “Why would I be going back to Nashville?”

  “There’s no reason for you to stay.”

  Dylan rolled them over, pressing her into the mattress. Angelina snaked her arms around his neck, sighing softly when he rubbed his nose against hers.

  “I think you’re a very good reason to stay. The best reason.”

  Angelina moaned as he dipped his head, trailing his lips along her neck. His breath was warm against her skin, and she pulled him closer, desperate to anchor herself to him and never let him go. Instinctively, she arched against him, and he groaned, capturing her mouth with his once more.

  When they finally pulled away, panting and breathless, Dylan pressed his forehead to hers.

  “If I’m spending the night with you and sleeping in your bed, then you and I need to have a serious conversation.”

  Sighing heavily, Angelina framed his face with her hands. “I’m so tired of serious conversations. For one night, can’t we just do whatever we feel like doing and ignore the rest?”

  He chuckled and rolled over onto his back. Groaning, Angelina turned onto her side and gazed down at the infuriating man lying beside her.

  “Don’t you want me?” Her voice was timid.

  With a hungry look in his eyes that made her tremble, Dylan reached for her, pulling her face down to his. Angelina whimpered into his mouth, clutching his shirt in her hand. She let her fingers slide beneath the fabric, and he whispered a curse when she brushed her nails across his stomach. His low groan gave her courage, and within seconds, his shirt was gone. Feeling brave, she eagerly reached for the zipper of his jeans.

  “Baby,” he murmured, his hand gripping hers. “If you value my sanity at all, you won’t do that.”

  Angelina buried her face against his neck. Why does he have to be a nice guy? Why?

  But deep down, she knew she wouldn’t want him any other way. It wasn’t rejection she felt. It was confusion, and maybe, a little embarrassment. Dylan wanted her—she had no doubt about that—and they had this big house all to themselves for the night.

  What was he waiting for?

  “Do you know how much I care about you?” Dylan whispered against her ear. “Do you know how much it would kill me if you regretted this?”

  “I care about you, too.” The words sounded so wrong. Almost blasphemous. Because she more than cared about him. “And I wouldn’t regret it.”

  Gazing up at her, he smiled and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You told me you’re a virgin.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Why am I a virgin?”

  He nodded and gently brushed his hand against her cheek. “Don’t get me wrong. I love that you are. I’m just curious as to why. I mean, you’ve waited for a reason, and I don’t want to be the jerk that comes along and makes you regret not waiting a little longer.”

  “I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “But why did you wait at all? Were you saving yourself for marriage or . . .”

  She shook her head. “No. I mean, it’s a noble goal, but that isn’t why I’ve waited.”

  “Then why, Angelina?”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Because a very small piece of my heart still believed in the spell. I wanted to wait . . . for him. Just in case.”

  Dylan couldn’t hide his smile. “So you do believe in magic.”

  She shrugged and lowered her head, letting her hand trail across his inked bicep. “I’d forgotten you have a tattoo.”

  Angelina ghosted her fingers along the black ink. The design was two crisscrossed drumsticks with a half-heart in the middle.

  “You must have really loved playing drums,” she said.

  “I did, yeah.”

  “Not anymore?”

  “It was never a real passion. Just more of a phase. My mother was relieved when it finally passed.”

  Angelina giggled. “The drumsticks I understand, but why the half-heart?”

  “It was symbolic.”

  “Of?”

  Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know. It could mean a lot of things, I guess.”

  She wasn’t letting him off that easy. “It must have meant something to you.”

  Dylan sighed. “My mom seemed to think it symbolized my feelings about my dad. He left me incomplete, or some bullshit like that.”

  “You don’t agree with her?”

  “My father was the last thing on my mind when I picked the design. I just thought it looked cool and represented my life at the time. You know, like maybe I was this imperfect and unfinished beating heart. I was nineteen years old. Still growing up and trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life.”

  With a smile, Angelina gently traced the outline of the heart with her fingertip. “I love that.”

  Dylan shuddered as her hand traveled down his arm and along his chest.

  “What’s this?” she asked, running her finger along a spot just above his navel.

  “I had chicken pox when I was ten.” Dylan held his breath when she dipped her head to press a soft kiss against the scar. “Can you heal it?”

  Angelina smiled against his skin. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried healing old wounds. I wouldn’t want to, anyway. It’s part of who you are. Some scars are good, I think. They remind you of where you’ve been.”

  Her voice was soft and quiet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she had any scars of her own.

  “Did you ever have chicken pox?”

  Angelina laughed. “No. Anytime we had an epidemic at school, mom would conjure some kind of potion to protect me. Magic sometimes has its advantages. I have a tattoo, though.”

  Suddenly, he sat up in bed and reached for her, pulling her into his lap so they were nose-to-nose.

  “Show me,” he murmured roughly.

  She grinned and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Are you trying to distract me from wanting to have se
x?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Then showing you mine is probably a very bad idea. I’d have to be naked for you to really get the full effect.”

  Dylan groaned and buried his face against her neck. They held each other close until Angelina finally whispered against his ear.

  “Why do you want to wait?”

  He lifted his head and found himself staring into her confused blue eyes.

  “Because I love you,” he said simply. “I want to wait because I love you.”

  Angelina gasped.

  “You love me?”

  Dylan rubbed his nose against hers. “You know I do. You just don’t believe it in your heart. Not yet. And that’s why I want to wait.”

  He kissed her deeply, and Angelina moaned into his mouth. Tightening her arms around his neck, she pressed herself against him, desperate to have him closer as she savored his sweet words.

  “I love you,” he whispered, letting his lips linger against her cheek.

  Angelina wanted to say it back, but the words hung in her throat, suffocating her. Dylan placed his hands on each side of her face, forcing her to look into his eyes.

  “Don’t say it, Angelina. Not tonight.”

  Her eyes flashed with confusion. “You don’t want me to say it?”

  “Oh, I want you to say it. I just want you to mean it. I want you to be sure. I don’t want there to be an ounce of fear or doubt in your heart when you say those words to me.”

  She pressed her forehead to his.

  “There won’t be,” she promised him.

  The morning of her mom’s surgery was rainy and cool—a perfect complement to Angelina’s mood. Celia, in her white hospital gown, was her usual serene self as they sat in the pre-op room. Dylan had insisted on coming along, and Celia had agreed, knowing Angelina would need support today.

  “How can you be so calm about this?” Angelina asked.

  Dylan slid his hand along the nape of her neck and caressed the skin there. Her anxiety was at a fever pitch, and he was doing everything in his power to keep her calm.

  “Because worrying won’t change a thing,” Celia said quietly. “You know that better than anyone. We just have to let the surgeon do his job.”

  Angelina needed a little grain of hope to hang onto before they wheeled her mother back to surgery. Now that Dylan was aware of her mom’s visions, she didn’t hesitate to ask her next question.

  “What have you seen?” she asked nervously.

  Before Celia could answer, Dr. Campbell walked into the room with the surgeon.

  As the introductions were made, Dylan kept a tight grip on Angelina’s trembling hand. He seriously considered asking the doctor for something to relax her, because he had no idea how he was going to keep her calm during her mom’s two-hour surgery. The doctors talked to them about anesthesia and recovery exercises, but it was all white noise to Dylan. All he could concentrate on was the woman he loved, quivering at his side.

  When the nurse announced it was time, Angelina carefully hugged her mom, promising her they would be waiting when she woke up. When it was Dylan’s turn, Celia pulled him close.

  “I’m trusting you to take care of her,” Celia whispered in his ear.

  Dylan nodded numbly.

  For the next two hours, he did everything he could to keep Angelina’s mind off the surgery, but it was pointless. They were sitting in a hospital, surrounded by sick kids and crying families, and there was no way to ignore any of it. He watched helplessly as Angelina paced the room like a caged lion. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet, and there was nothing he could do.

  It killed him.

  After an hour had passed, Dylan finally took her by the hand.

  “Let’s get some fresh air.”

  Angelina shook her head. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Just out those doors,” he said, pointing toward the sliding glass. “We won’t go far, I promise.”

  She nodded, and he led her outside. They found a bench close by, and Dylan pulled her close to his side. Angelina went willingly, resting against him as he enveloped her in his arms. He kissed her hair and wished he could promise that everything was going to be fine, but he didn’t dare, because he didn’t know.

  And the not knowing was the toughest part of all.

  “Angelina, stop hovering. I’m fine.”

  It wasn’t the first time Angelina had heard those words, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

  “You look uncomfortable,” Angelina mumbled, reaching behind her mom and adjusting the pillow. Finally satisfied, she settled herself on the couch next to her. The two of them were watching some cooking show on television. That, combined with the smell of garlic streaming from the kitchen, made Angelina’s stomach growl for the first time in days.

  It had been one week since her mom’s surgery. Dr. Campbell had deemed the operation a success and sent them home three days later with illustrated instructions and enough medications to open a small pharmacy. Thankfully, Celia’s surgical drain had been removed before she had been discharged, so that was a relief.

  Maddie took care of the store while Angelina focused on her mother’s recovery. She helped Celia with her arm exercises, made sure she took her medication when needed, and refused to let her mom lift a finger. Celia was tired most of the time, which was to be expected, but Angelina could tell she was growing restless. She tried her best to keep her mom entertained, but Celia wasn’t used to sitting around the house.

  “Something smells good,” Celia said.

  “Dylan’s making spaghetti for lunch.”

  Her mom grinned. “That boy should just move in.”

  Angelina smiled, because it was true. He practically lived there already, doing everything in his power to take care of the two of them.

  “David is coming over this afternoon,” Celia said. “I want you and Dylan to get out of this house for a while, and I want no argument from either of you. Dr. Campbell warned you about focusing on my recovery and neglecting to take care of yourself. It’s been a week. I want the two of you to go into town, check on the store, and do something besides sit here with me.”

  Her mother’s voice was firm, and Angelina knew better than to argue.

  “Do you think she’s okay?”

  Dylan squeezed her hand as they walked along the sidewalk. “I think she’ll be fine, and if she isn’t, David will call us.”

  Angelina nodded and tried to focus on anything but the anxiety bubbling in her stomach. Dylan did his best to distract her as he pointed toward the windows of the shops in town, and she smiled and pretended everything was right in the world.

  “I know what you need,” Dylan said, pulling her toward a picnic table just outside of Fay’s Bakery. She sat down, and he leaned close, kissing her forehead. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  He walked into the shop, and Angelina closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh mountain air. Her nerves were shot, and while she understood that worry was a useless emotion, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy each and every time she saw her mom’s tired face. In many ways, surgery was the easy part. Next would come the punishing chemo, and with that, Celia’s body would have to tolerate the crippling nausea and enormous fatigue. Angelina prayed she would be strong enough to help her mom endure all of it.

  The tinkling of the bakery door resonated in her ears, and Angelina opened her eyes. She couldn’t help but smile as Dylan walked back to the picnic table, holding two cupcakes in his hands.

  “How did you know I love Fay’s strawberry cupcakes?”

  “Wild guess,” Dylan said as he sat down, straddling the bench.

  Angelina turned toward him, their knees brushing against each other as they sat as close as possible. He kissed her softly before handing her a cupcake.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For taking such good care of me and my mom.”

  Dylan smiled. “Thank you for letting me. I’m just thankful bot
h of you had an appetite this afternoon.”

  “Me, too.”

  While they ate their cupcakes, Dylan told Angelina about a call he’d received from a Knoxville newspaper, offering him some freelance work.

  “It’s just mainly fluff pieces,” he said with a shrug. “But at least I won’t have to travel as much.”

  “But you like to travel.”

  “I do, but now is not the time. I’ll travel later. Right now, I need to be here.”

  Angelina sighed. She hated the thoughts of him giving up anything just to stay in Maple Ridge and take care of her.

  “Hey,” he whispered, tilting her face toward his. “I want to be here. There’s no place else I’d rather be. Never doubt that.”

  His voice rang with sincerity, and she smiled before leaning in, kissing him tenderly. When she pulled away, she rested her hand against his chest.

  “Your heart’s racing.”

  “Your fault.”

  Angelina giggled.

  “I’ve missed your laugh, baby.”

  “I’ve missed laughing.”

  Dylan kissed her forehead. “Why don’t we go see Maddie? Talking about the wedding is sure to brighten your mood.”

  “You brighten my mood every single day. Never doubt that.”

  Dylan smiled.

  Over the next few weeks, their lives slowly returned to a somewhat normal routine. Celia began her treatments, and as Dr. Campbell predicted, the chemo combined with the medications kept her sick most of the time. Despite her desire to spend every moment by her mom’s side, Angelina had reluctantly returned to work at the shop. David Murray had offered to stay with Celia, and he would check in with Angelina throughout the day. Dylan began his freelance work with the newspaper in Knoxville and found a tiny apartment in town. Maddie was knee-deep in wedding plans, and with the ceremony only a week away, she kept Angelina distracted with her maid of honor responsibilities.

  The distraction worked, until the evening Angelina returned home to find Celia slumped over the sofa, retching into a garbage can.