Small Town Secret: Mayfield Springs Book 1 Read online

  Chris laughed. "They're a real sweet couple. Just like I remember them."

  I smiled thinking about them. After almost thirty years of marriage, they hadn't changed a bit. They were still as in love as the day they married.

  "I bet my Mom did something embarrassing like insisted on kissing you or something," I said.

  Chris laughed again and swept back his hair with a charming aloofness.

  "She cuddled me, like a lot."

  "Ha yeah...sorry about that. She really likes you."

  As I stood awkwardly in the living room, it seemed that my modest house just wasn't good enough to accommodate a mega star like Chris. It was like the walls were too closed in and the ceiling too low to keep in his sweltering good looks and personality. Even though I'd known him on and off my whole life, I felt as though I was in the presence of a king. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Not even for a second. Not even when I knew I must have looked strange as I stared at him.

  "You ok?" he asked.

  "Yeah..." I finally looked away. "Can I get you a drink or something?"

  "Sure. Coffee would be awesome."

  As I walked into the kitchen, I reflected on how surreal it was to have this global celebrity in my kitchen. Bella's drawings were on the fridge, and I hoped that Chris wouldn't see them. Part of me wanted to explain everything to him, drag him upstairs and show him his daughter. But I couldn't do it. Instead, I went through the motions of spooning coffee beans into the machine.

  "Are the beans cold pressed?" Chris called casually from the next room.

  "Huh?"

  "The coffee beans. Are they cold pressed?"

  "They're from Target?" I replied, confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. The coffee he had back home in Los Angeles was probably brought to him by naked Playboy models. What must he think of me? I couldn't help but feel embarrassed because my life was just so...boring and non-glamorous compared to his.

  I took him his coffee and sat on the floor beside him.

  "I like your movie collection," he said as he perused the shelves of DVDs, and ran his finger over the titles. Some of them he was in, others he wasn't.

  "There are a lot of horror movies here," he said.

  "Yeah...they're my guilty pleasure."

  "Oh... I know a lot about guilty pleasures," he said as he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I felt as though I was going to melt. He was a hundred times hotter than he had been the last time I saw him, and I had to bite my lip to stop myself doing or saying anything I shouldn't.

  "Don't look at me like that," I said, playfully pushing him.

  "Like what?" he said as he came close to me.

  "In that...way. It got you into trouble before, remember?"

  "If I remember correctly, it was you who lead me astray," he smirked.

  I had all sorts of thoughts running through my mind. Part of me wanted to straddle him, wrap my legs around his body and feel his muscles up close to me. Part of me wanted to be bold and undo his belt, unzip his jeans and bend right over his lap, the way I used to. And the other part of me, well, it was just mortified that I was thinking about flirting and more with Chris Taylor... in my giraffe onesie. Aargh - all that worry about what Chris would think of me when he saw me and there I was in the pajamas I'd bought to make Bella laugh.

  "Come and sit here with me for a second?" Chris said patting the cushion beside him.

  I didn't move but stayed where I was on the sitting on the floor as I tried to figure out his motives.

  "I'm not trying to be a sleazy weirdo like Daniel," he said. "I want to talk to you."

  I moved beside him unsure of what he was going to say. But once he spoke I wished he'd said nothing at all.

  "Amy, why are you living in this craphole?" he asked.

  "What... What do you mean?" I said knowing that it was a craphole, but feeling insulted that he had described my home that way.

  "This crumbling old house. For Christ's sake, it's a dump."

  "Hey!" I stood up annoyed. "I try my best. It's not easy around here you know. There aren't many jobs, and not all of us are lucky enough to be movie stars."

  "Calm down," Chris responded. "Please...Look, I'm sorry...Let me start again. I'm not trying to make you feel bad. I'm upset because I care about you. When you graduated from high school, you had all these big plans about how you were going to be an artist. You talked about it all the time. Your creativity was one of the things I loved about you. You could have been a successful artist just like me if you wanted. But you came back here, and I have no idea why."

  "Have you finished lecturing me?" I barked, sounding angrier than I had intended. How could it be that he'd only been back in Mayfield Springs for a night, and we were arguing already?

  "Amy, if I could see you were happy here, I wouldn't care about the house, but you're not happy are you?"

  I looked to the floor.

  "Hey, look at me," Chris said standing up beside me. He placed his hand under my chin and lifted my gaze to his.

  "You're not happy, are you? When I turned up here tonight, I could see that you'd been crying."

  I closed my eyes and pulled my face away as tears dripped down my cheeks. Chris wiped my cheek gently with his thumb.

  "Don't pull away from me, Amy, please," Chris pleaded. He held my arm and pulled me back in towards him. I could feel a tear dripping off the end of my nose.

  He put his face in close to my hair and said, "I regret every day what I did to you. I took your innocence and betrayed your trust. But I've changed since then. I'm not the selfish swine I was then. I promise never to do anything like that again."

  "You'd better not," I sniffed, wiping my cheek with my sleeve. I was trying my hardest to hate him because I would have loved to have thrown him out of my house for betraying me four years ago. But I knew I was falling hard for him again. His beautiful, piercing blue eyes looked right into me, and I couldn't resist when he placed a hand on the back of my head and pulled me to him. Our lips met for just a second, lightly brushing one another until I pulled away. I knew I shouldn't be getting too close to him again. There was no way I was going to let him break my heart another time.

  As we lingered, our faces close together; I could feel his hot breath on my lips. They tingled with the heat, eager to feel the smoothness of his skin. A tiny voice in my mind was saying, don't do it, Amy. Control yourself. But the voice grew quiet the longer I looked into his eyes.

  I kissed him hard, my fingers tangling in his hair. I'd missed this so much. Not just the touch of a man, but the touch of this man. He knew exactly what to do to make my soul catch fire. My hands pulled at his clothes as I dragged him close to me. I wanted to feel every part of him, wanted to taste every part of his body so desperately.

  He made a slight moaning sound as I slid a tongue into his mouth and he pushed his pelvis towards me. Our bodies were pressing into each other as we held on tight. It wasn't long until he pushed me onto the sofa and he tumbled down onto me.

  "About time we got rid of the giraffe," he said unzipping my pajamas and sliding them down off my shoulders. I wriggled them down over my hips and threw them onto the floor.

  "Mmm," he murmured, pushing his weight back down onto me and nuzzling into my shoulder.

  I wrapped my legs around him, relishing feeling the weight of his body against me.

  He bit my lip playfully, and I squealed, pulling away and laughing.

  "Hey!" I protested.

  His eyes were sparkling as he looked down at me and I loved the way he smiled. I could see the cheeky glint in his eye and knew what he wanted. Looking up at him, I suddenly felt very exposed, but if I was to give myself to anyone, it could only be him.

  "You still look so beautiful," he said, lying down beside me and nuzzling into my neck.

  "I don't feel it," I sighed.

  "Why's that?" he asked, pushing himself up on one elbow. He seemed perplexed and frowned as he looked down at me.

  "You know..."
I began to mumble. "I've put on loads of weight; you can see that can't you?"

  He nodded.

  "And you're not disgusted by it?"

  He seemed hurt by the question. Placing his hand on the side of my face, he held my gaze to his and said, "Amy, I could never be disgusted by you. You're a real woman, a curvaceous work of art. You look even more beautiful than I remember. You're a gorgeous, strong, healthy woman, and there's nothing more attractive than that. Don't ever try to cover yourself up. Your body is who you are, and each curve is an extra place to kiss and caress," he said as he leaned down and kissed my neck.

  Brushing the hair from my face, he kissed my cheek ever so softly. I lay back and relaxed into the feeling of having him beside me and the way he made me feel like a queen. The smell of his cologne was intoxicating, and I was surprised that it was the same one he wore all those years ago. It drifted into me and set my mind back four years in an instant. All those times we held each other for hours and kissed each other a thousand times, I wanted to relive every moment.

  "I mean it," he stroked my face with his fingers and turned my head to face him. "You don't look the same, but you look better - just gorgeous."

  "You don't mean that," I said, pulling away coyly. "I've seen you on TV. You've dated models and actresses. I'm just some dumb waitress."

  He sat up suddenly as though something was terribly wrong.

  "Don't you dare say that."

  "Uh?" I was shocked at his sudden change in tone.

  "Don't you ever say you're just a dumb waitress. Can't you see you're better than that?"

  "But I'm not, Chris. That's what I am. A waitress who lives in a dump of a house with no furniture."

  "Amy," Chris said, an edge of frustration in his voice. " I just wish you could see how amazing you really are. And if you must know those actresses and models, most of them are completely superficial. You're right you're absolutely nothing like them, and I wouldn't want you to be either."

  I sat up and reached out a hand to his face. "I didn't mean to upset you," I said gently.

  "You didn't it's just... I've missed you," and he leaned down and kissed me, this time softly.

  Then a noise interrupted us. Crying. It was Bella, and she was looking for me. I pulled away in a panic.

  Chris pulled away too and looked at me with questions and concern showing in his eyes."What was..?" he started to ask.

  I didn't let him finish.

  "Sorry, Chris, but you'll have to let yourself out of the house. I have to see to my daughter."

  CHAPTER 8

  AMY

  I looked terrible in everything I tried on. Looking in the mirror, I huffed and pinched at my hips and tried not to cry as I put on on dress after dress that didn't fit properly. My shape was just so different since I'd had Bella. I had these wide hips and large breasts that I'd never had before. I'd been fighting my changed shape, but maybe I needed to learn to love it. Maybe the only issue was that I hadn't been able to afford any nice clothes since Bella was born, so I just felt ugly in everything I put on.

  Chris still found me attractive, and that thought made my heart soar. There was something about the way he kissed me that made me believe he meant all those things he'd said. Was it possible that he was finally tired of those slender minxes I'd seen him with on TV?

  It was the night of Cassie's rehearsal dinner and even though I was excited to see her and to meet the other bridesmaids, I had no interest in seeing her fiancé. Chris, on the other hand, whether it was sensible or not, right now, I'd do anything to have his arms around me again.

  Last night was just divine. Feeling Chris' lips against mine for the first time in four years was the most incredible feeling. And I hoped that it wouldn't be the last. But I needed to be careful; I couldn't afford to have my heart broken again. I needed to ensure that I didn't get too attached, and I couldn't let Bella's heart be broken either.

  Bella...at some point I was going to have to tell him. After last night, he knew I had a daughter, but the look on his face showed he had no idea about her before that moment. I thought Cassie might have mentioned her, but then what was going on in my life was probably low on the priority list for both of them.

  I sighed thinking about what Chris had done to me four years ago. When the wife no one knew about turned up in town, he made a pretty speedy getaway. How he thought he'd get away with having a relationship with me when he was already married, I have no idea.

  Chris wrote me a letter after he returned to Hollywood. I kept it for ages before burning it one night when I was feeling particularly fragile. In it, he told me that he had never been in love with Stacey. His marriage to her had been one of convenience: she needed a green card, he needed to be seen with someone who had connections, and he never believed that she would have a problem with him seeing other girls as long as he was discreet.

  I never knew that I was the 'bit on the side'; he never told me the truth about his marriage; and whether he truly loved me or not, he still tossed me aside to pursue his 'connections' and his career.

  Apart from sending me that letter which I hadn't responded to; in four years he hadn't come looking for me once. And now here he was back in my life again and looking like he wanted a relationship. If I was going to get involved with Chris again, I needed to be realistic that it would be a bit of fun for the few days he was here but probably nothing beyond that. I just didn't fit into his world.

  "Mommy?" a little voice came from behind me.

  "Hello, sweetie," I said, kneeling on the floor beside my little girl. "What have you got there?"

  "It's a drawing. I did it for you."

  "Oh that's lovely sweetheart, let me see."

  I took the sheet of paper from between her tiny fingers. As always with Bella's artwork, I had no idea what I was looking at in her painting.

  "It's brilliant! What is it?" I asked.

  "A dinosaur princess," she replied proudly.

  "Wow! You're quite the artist Bella," I said.

  She smiled as though it was the best thing I'd ever told her.

  "In fact, you've done such a good painting; I think you deserve some ice cream."

  "Yay!" she shrieked, running out of the room towards the stairs.

  "Honey, don't run down the stairs you'll hurt yourself," I called out after her.

  She gave me a cheeky one-eyed look through the gap in the banister and giggled before holding onto it as tightly as she could, taking one step down at a time.

  "That's it. Good girl. I'll be down in a minute."

  That girl melts my heart. Sometimes Bella is just so cute I want to bake her into a cake and eat her up. Still having no idea what to wear, I slipped on my dirty sweatpants and made my way downstairs to get Bella's ice cream. As I scooped out the mint chocolate chip, I noticed that Bella was uncharacteristically quiet. I looked up to see what she was doing and found her staring straight at me with a quizzical expression on her face.

  "Everything ok?" I asked, placing the bowls down on the table with a clunk. "You want chocolate sauce?"

  She nodded her head but said nothing.

  "You've gone very quiet sweetie. What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she said, digging her spoon into her ice cream.

  "Now, Mommy doesn't like it when you tell lies, does she?"

  "Nope," she shook her head as she placed the spoon in her mouth.

  "So... are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

  In a rather grown up fashion, she placed her spoon back in her bowl and pushed it away from her, imitating my mannerisms. It took me aback while amusing me at the same time.

  "Sophie," she announced gravely.

  "What about her?"

  Bella met Sophie at playgroup. They grew close over a mutual love of Barbies and in some ways, they were just like Cassie and me at the same age.

  "Sophie wants to know where my daddy is."

  The words hit me in the gut. I always knew the day would come when she would start asking questi
ons. I never for one minute, though, thought it would come so soon.

  "Well..." I started, realizing that I hadn't thought through what to say when I was asked this question. "Why don't you tell her that er..." I trailed off and started to dig into my ice cream instead of answering the question.

  "Your daddy," I began again, as I fidgeted with the lid on the chocolate sauce bottle. "Your daddy is a very important man, and because of that, he has to work all over the country, and he can't come to see us."

  "Oh... Then why can't we go with him?" she asked.

  Again her innocent words penetrated me deep down. There were tears in my eyes, but I held them back.

  "Because Mommy needs to be here with Grandma and Grandpa," I responded, thinking it was time to change the subject.

  "Ok Bella, we can talk about this later on when we have more time," I said brightly. "Right now though I have to get you ready to see Grandma."

  "I love Grandma," she said with a smile. "She loves me so much. She comes here every day to put me to bed."

  Again, her words cut through me. It seemed as though the more I tried to look after Bella and provide for her, the less like a good mother I felt. I wished I had better working hours and could spend more time with her. As I cleared the table I made a vow to myself. Things have got to change.

  After putting Bella into her pajamas and settling her in front of the TV, I went back upstairs to try on more dresses that used to fit and apply makeup I hadn't worn in years. What happened to me? I thought as I looked around my dim and dismal bedroom. Bella deserves better than this. I deserve better than this.

  For a moment, I wondered if I should move home with my parents. It wasn't as if they didn't want me to move in with them. In fact, most weeks Mom dropped subtle hints about how much Bella would enjoy the garden or how I could have more fun cooking in a larger kitchen. But my independent nature gets the better of me at times. I wanted to live my life, out of the shadow of my parents and so I'd been stubborn and dug my heels in. "No Mom," I'd said. "We'll be out of here soon. Just as soon as I save up enough money." Except there never was enough money. In fact, there was barely enough to cover the bills, let alone create a savings account.