Chasing His Forever
Sweet Somethings Book One
Rory Reynolds
Chasing His Forever
(Sweet Somethings Book One)
Rory Reynolds © 2020
Created with Vellum
Juliebean, love you most.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Also by Rory Reynolds
About the Author
1 Lani
“That man is head over heels for you, Margo,” Ana teases.
Margo shoots her a dirty look. “He is not! He’s a bit of a grumbly jerk.”
Ana snorts. “Then why does he buy sweets by the dozens from your bakery even though the diner is known for its own desserts? Besides, he’s not a jerk… unrequited love will make anyone grumpy.”
Margo’s cheeks heat in embarrassment. I decide to save her from the crosshairs of Ana’s stubborn insistence that Amos wants more than her strawberry cream cupcakes and mini apple pies. “So, did anyone actually read the book this week?”
Prue gives me an ‘are you kidding me look.’ “You know we didn’t. Why do you insist on calling this a book club? All we do is drink wine and eat leftover treats that Margo brings.”
“I read the book,” Ana smirks, holding up the book with a broken spine, dogeared pages, and what looks like food stains. I cringe at the abuse. I lovingly touch my pristine copy.
“Did you like it?” I ask, hopefully.
“It was alright.” She shrugs. “I expected it to be hotter than it was considering the half-naked man on the cover.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head.
“What?” Ana grumbles. “Don’t you dare judge me, Lani Smith! You know it was disappointing.”
I’d argue if I could, but she’s right. It definitely didn’t hold up to the reviews. “It was.”
Prue pops open another bottle of wine. “Now that that’s taken care of let’s drink up.”
After two more glasses of wine and enough of Margo’s baking to put an elephant in a sugar coma, the party breaks up. We don’t even talk about a new book for next week. It seems all pretense of this being a ‘book club’ is out the window. Ah well, not everyone is suited to be a bookworm.
“You guys want a ride home?” Margo asks. She hardly ever drinks and, like always, offers to be the designated driver for the rest of us.
Both Prue and Ana jump at the offer, but I think the fresh air will do me some good. I had a great time with my friends, but the melancholy that’s taken over the last month creeps back in. I wish I could put a finger on why sadness keeps creeping up on me. I’m usually upbeat and happy all the time. It’s disconcerting to be anything else but my perky self.
“I think I’ll walk.”
Margo furrows her brow. “Are you sure? It’s late…”
Prue snorts. “It’s not like we live in the city. This is Sugarhill, the worst that could happen is Mrs. Overland’s dog attacks her with his stinky dog breath.”
“It’s only a few blocks. I’ll be fine.” I give each of my friends a hug before locking up the store. I take a minute to admire the display in the front window. Sweet Reads is my pride and joy. After college, I thought for sure I would move home and take over Sugarhill’s little library, but then my grandmother passed and left me a sizeable inheritance. Her letter that accompanied the money told me to follow my dreams and to never settle.
So, I took that money and invested in opening Sugarhill’s first-ever bookstore. Within the first year, I was already in the black. The townsfolk were so excited that they wouldn’t have to order their books online, and business has been excellent. Plus, as a general rule of thumb, Sugarhill takes care of their own. We’ve kept the big box stores out of our community, preferring to keep our businesses local whenever we can.
I drop my keys into my bag and start the walk home. The night is peaceful. Stars shine bright in the sky, and the cicadas sing their songs broken only by the random dog barking. Before I know it, I’m home. I climb up the two flights of stairs to my little apartment. My cat, Mr. Grey—yes, I named him after a very popular book boyfriend, don’t judge—weaves in and out of my legs, nearly tripping me.
“You act like I’ve been gone for years instead of just a few hours.”
Mr. Grey answers with a pathetic meow before taking off towards the kitchen. I shake my head because I know exactly what he’s complaining about. By the time I enter the little nook that serves as both my kitchen and dining room, Mr. Grey is already pawing at his tipped over bowl. His cat food is strewn all over the floor, and he’s meowing like he’s telling me all about what happened.
“It’s your own fault, purr bucket. If you wouldn’t tip the darn bowl over, then you wouldn’t have floor kibble.”
He turns his back to me, flicking his tail in agitation. He does this any time I’m not home on time—punishment for not coming home when I usually do. I flip the bowl over and scoop the food back into it. Mr. Grey shoves my fingers away, sticking his head in the dish like he’s starving. He’s not. He’s a fat cat and quite happy with it.
I give him a little scratch behind the ears before heading to my bedroom. I quickly change into my favorite pajamas before flopping onto the bed. Despite my brain being on overdrive, I’m asleep within moments.
2 Torin
It’s been a long twenty-four hours. You’d think in a town as small as Sugarhill, there wouldn’t be much need for emergency services, but that’s not the case. The town’s budget only allows for three of us, and only two of us are fulltime. Thankfully we have a handful of loyal volunteers who never hesitate to help when we
