| Copyright © 2006, Lauren
N. Sharman Reviews For The McCassey Brothers Book 1: NO WORRIES by Lauren N. Sharman "No Worries is an amazing example of romantic suspense done right. Lauren Sharman has a homerun with this novel. Everything works and there is no slack in the writing. This is one of those books that had me reading from start to finish in one sitting." - Kimberley Spinney, Reviewer, Ecataromance "No Worries is a gripping story from beginning to end. Readers will thoroughly enjoy the wonderful characterizations of regular folks who may be poor in terms of wealth, but who are rich in family and loyalty. Readers. . .are likely to find themselves sucked into the story so thoroughly that not much else will get their attention. So stock up your kitchen with food ahead of time, open a cold one and settle in for a heck of a read." -Lil, Reviewer, Love Romances "I loved No Worries by Lauren N. Sharman, for this author gets better with each book, never taking my attention away. . .I instantly fell in love with the McCassey clan. . . All in all, Lauren N. Sharman did a great job with this book from beginning until the end." -Lena C., Reviewer, Fallen Angel Reviews "No Worries is probably the best love story I have read in years. Ms. Sharman describes Rebel so clearly that he stirs my blood faster than a three second funny car on a quarter mile track. Gypsy turns out to have a spunk all her own, once she gets in with the McCassey family. Together, they guarantee the safety and security of each family member in a down-home country way that screams "no worries." -- Reviewed by MargeAnna Conrad for Novelspot “I loved Rebel and Gypsy. No Worries
by Lauren N. Sharman is a sweet love story in the middle of a suspense
novel. All the elements of a good suspense story are here, someone wants
to kill or harm Gypsy, someone is stirring up trouble for the McCasseys,
and there is drama and action galore. But despite the suspense, the
romance between Rebel and in fact his whole family and Gypsy is so sweet.
Gypsy doesn’t just fall in love with Rebel but with his entire
family and the feeling is mutual. It is easy to fall in love with this
gentle, misjudged giant and his family and Gypsy in spite of all she’s
experience is a loving, yet spunky, soul. The fact that this book is
just the first in a trilogy makes it all the more special. I can’t
wait to read the next installment and watch as the McCasseys grow and
evolve into the wonderful loving people they are meant to be. It will
be an interesting “ride” to see how Ms. Sharman manages
to turn these rough men around and make them fit for society and to
see just what kind of women will love them!” 5 Angels! Reviewed Sample Chapter For
The McCassey Brothers Book 1: NO WORRIES by Lauren N. Sharman
The man was poised for battle. As Gypsy Lance stood frozen, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at not only his enormous size, but the length of the knife sheath on his belt, her first thought was that he was going to kill her. Her second thought was to laugh at the irony. She’d survived twenty-one years of living in the worst neighborhoods in Baltimore City without so much as a scratch. Now, after being a resident of the small western Maryland town of Hagerstown a mere eight hours, she was sure she was about to be raped, and God knew what else, by a man more than twice her size...in the middle of heavily wooded private property that she’d intentionally trespassed on...in a town where no one knew her, and no one would miss her if she disappeared. The thought of turning around and running left her mind the instant the man noticed her. Chances were that those long legs of his would catch her in no time. And just where did she think she would go, anyway? They were in the woods...his woods, and she was hopelessly lost; which was why she was still wandering around at sunset as the early April air was rapidly turning chilly. She’d have to face him; sooner rather than later because his long strides had already closed half the distance between them. Pretend like he doesn’t scare you to death, Gypsy, she thought to herself. Take in everything you can about the man’s appearance, just in case you survive whatever’s about to happen and need to give the police a description of your attacker. As he stepped over fallen trees and trudged effortlessly through ankle-deep brush, Gypsy watched him closely, making mental notes of his approximate age, height and weight, which she guessed to be close to thirty, six-foot-four, and maybe two hundred and forty pounds. She noticed he was wearing what looked like old work boots, a pair of faded, grease-stained blue jeans with holes in both knees, and a jet black T-shirt, the exact same color of the straight hair that fell to his shoulders. When he reached her, he quickly scanned the area then turned to look directly at Gypsy. The pair of intense royal blue eyes staring at her had Gypsy paralyzed with fear, the violent thud of her heart making her entire body to feel as though it was vibrating. She’d always avoided men so that she never had to feel helpless and at the mercy of someone again. Could he hear her heart beating? Had he seen the fear she was trying desperately to hide? He took a step back and raised his hands in the air. “I won’t hurt you.” Oh great, he’d seen it. Was he telling the truth? She supposed that if he’d been planning to harm her, he would’ve tried to do so by now. And the look in those magnificent eyes wasn’t one that threatened violence, it was almost...was that concern she saw? There was only one way to find out. Keeping her eyes trained on him, she took a tentative step back, testing to see if he’d follow. When he didn’t, she released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and relaxed a little. Relieved he didn’t seem to want to hurt her, at least for the moment, Gypsy dug deep and mustered all of her courage, offering a quiet, “Hi.” “Hi, yourself,” he shot back in a voice laced with light sarcasm and just a hint of a southern accent. “Are you lost?” Gypsy didn’t miss the tone of his voice, but chose to ignore it. She nodded, hoping that being friendly would keep him from getting angry. “Actually, I am,” she said, fighting desperately to keep the fear out of her voice. “Can you show me how to get out of these woods?” He shrugged. “Yes, but what are you doing out here? You’re not exactly dressed for a hike.” Gypsy could feel the heat of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks as she crossed her arms to cover numerous small stains on the bib of her overalls. She’d spent the morning cleaning her new apartment, which she’d been lucky to find on such short notice, and hadn’t bothered to change before she left. “I wasn’t hiking,” she told him, surprising herself by throwing back a bit of his sarcasm, “I was taking a walk and got lost.” What she left out of her explanation was that she’d been so preoccupied that she simply hadn’t been paying attention. Walking through the town in a daze worrying about her financial situation, she’d looked up and had no idea where she was. “Look, I’ve been going in circles for hours. If you could just point me in the right direction, I’ll gladly get out of your way.” When he didn’t respond, she took a closer look at him and noticed the look of concern she’d seen in his eyes earlier had been replaced by a stoic, unreadable glare. She took another step back. Why had he turned on her so quickly? Had he decided not to help? Gypsy no longer thought he might hurt her, but if she made him angry, there was probably a good chance he’d refuse to show her the way out. Not wanting to spoil the chance of getting home sometime before dark, she willed her hand to remain steady as she extended it and forced a smile. “I’m Gypsy.” * * * * Rebel McCassey had known by the loud, unmistakable sound of crunching leaves and snapping twigs that whoever was in the woods had no qualms about letting him know they were there. At first he’d thought it was one of his cousins; the land belonged to them, also, and one or two of them were always up there doing something. But he hadn’t heard any voices. And the day any one of them went more than a minute or two without talking would be the day hell froze over. It couldn’t be one of the locals. Everyone knew this was McCassey property, and anyone who didn’t want to get shot for trespassing stayed far away. The sounds moved closer, and Rebel squinted against the fading sunlight, focusing on the person who’d invaded the woods. Surprised his uninvited guest was a young girl, he immediately stepped into plain view to avoid scaring her. But it was too late. She’d stopped dead in her tracks the instant she spotted him, forcing him to approach her. Now that Rebel had seen her up close, he realized she wasn’t as young as he’d first thought. He didn’t know who she was, but her shaking hands and wary look told him she was terrified. He admired the bit of backbone she’d shown by mimicking his sarcasm, but it was obviously an act. No matter how brave she thought she looked, he wasn’t buying it. Rebel didn’t blame her for being afraid, and was sure the way he was staring probably added to her discomfort. But he couldn’t help it. He was more drawn to her than any other woman he’d ever seen. She may have been dressed in ragged and dirty clothes, but she was beyond beautiful. The loose, fiery red curls that had escaped her ponytail had drawn his attention first. Rebel had never seen such a vibrant hair color. It accentuated her pale complexion and delicate features, reminding him of the treasured porcelain doll his great-grandmother had when he was little. He wanted to talk to her, but hesitated. It had been a long day, and he wasn’t in the mood to see the look of disgust women always gave him when they saw the dirt and grease embedded in his hands and under his fingernails. But she stood, hand out, until he gave in and shook it. When he did, he was surprised that the calluses on her hand rivaled his. “Rebel McCassey.” Rebel waited for the look; the one that usually followed someone finding out who he was. But it never came. “McCassey?” she questioned. “Didn’t I see that name in town somewhere?” “You’re not from anywhere around here, are you?” People for miles around knew the McCassey name; members of his family had been causing trouble in Washington County since before the Civil War. Rebel was no exception...though most of the trouble he wound up being involved in was usually started by someone else. “No,” she answered shyly. Well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. After all, she was in no danger from him. He’d never hurt anyone intentionally, at least anyone who didn’t deserve it. So he took her innocence for what it was and answered her question. “My uncles and I own a garage,” he held up his battered, grease stained hands for her to see. “I’m a mechanic.” When Gypsy smiled this time, she seemed a bit more relaxed. “Do you live around here?” “Yeah, you’re standing on my family’s land right now. It’s private property, Gypsy. How the hell did you get all the way back here?” “I didn’t mean to trespass on your land,” she apologized. “I mean, I knew it was private property because I saw the signs. But I was out walking trying to familiarize myself with the town and lost my bearings. I thought taking a shortcut through the woods would get me to my apartment on Franklin Street. I didn’t think it’d be so easy to get lost in such a small town.” She shrugged. “Guess I was wrong.” “Hagerstown is ten square miles in each direction, Gypsy, that isn’t so small.” “It is where I come from.” His interest piqued, he asked, “Which is where?” She seemed a little reluctant to answer, but eventually said, “Baltimore City.” Puzzled, Rebel wondered why this young girl had chosen to move all the way out to Hagerstown. It had the reputation of a backwoods, redneck town, and didn’t offer any of the opportunities you could find in Baltimore. He wanted to ask more questions, but the look she was giving him suggested he change the subject. Now. “Did you say Franklin Street?” She immediately perked up. “Yes, are we far from there?” “About three miles,” he told her, taking a dark-colored baseball hat from his back pocket and placing it on his head backward. “I’ll take you to the edge of the woods. Otherwise, you’ll never find your way out.” The look of relief and thanks she gave him made Rebel feel good about himself; it made him want to do everything he could to help this innocent girl. He motioned for her to follow as he began walking, half-heartedly wondering if there was someone special waiting in the new apartment on Franklin Street for her to come home. Then he pushed the thought from his mind as quickly as it had entered. As the two of them made their way through the woods, Gypsy seemed to gradually loosen up. She moved over to walk by Rebel’s side instead of behind him, and every few minutes asked him a question or two about the town, what there was to do, and what some of the people were like, always pondering his answers before speaking again. To his surprise, Rebel was enjoying Gypsy’s company. It had been a long time since someone had been interested in him as an individual person. Usually, people were only interested in finding out if there was any truth to the bad reputation his infamous last name had earned him. He admitted to himself that he liked the feeling of not being automatically judged because of who he was related to. And although it was unlike him to open up to anyone, he found that he didn’t mind sharing things with Gypsy, something he’d never felt comfortable enough to do with any other woman. At ease with each other, they talked nonstop as they made their way through the thick woods. Once Rebel got the sense Gypsy was beginning to feel comfortable with him, he took a chance and asked about her life in the city and why she moved to Hagerstown. Gypsy caught her lower lip between her teeth and remained silent, almost as if debating whether to reveal anything about herself. Several long seconds passed before she answered. “My mom died when I was ten, and because my father hadn’t been around in years, I was put into the Child Welfare System and raised in a handful of different foster homes.” Rebel didn’t know what he’d been expecting her to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. Because he had a hard time hiding his surprise, the only response he could come up with was, “That must’ve been hard on you.” It made him sad to think about this beautiful, gentle girl not having a place to call home, so Rebel pretended not to hear the pain in her voice when she said, “I got used to it. I had to. There was no other choice.” He wondered why she’d lived in foster homes when she had a father, but didn’t want to pry. Lord knew there were plenty of things in his past he didn’t want anyone asking questions about. “Are you still close with any of your foster parents?” She shook her head. “I never was. Most of the families I stayed with only took in kids for the money given to them by the state.” “What about your friends?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to miss them living way out here?” Gypsy sighed. “To tell you the truth, as far as good-hearted, honest people I can call friends...there aren’t any. It’s hard to get close to people when you grow up in foster care because everyone’s shuffled around so much.” She raised her head and looked at him. “I guess that makes me sound pretty pathetic, huh?” He smiled down at her, thinking of how close he and his brothers and cousins had always been. He knew he was lucky to be part of a big family, even if he sometimes felt they were more trouble then they were worth. Gypsy wasn’t pathetic, but he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was lonely. “Not at all.” He was unsure of what to say next, but was interested and wanted to keep her talking. “Did you just get out of foster care?” “No, my last foster family asked me to move out when I turned eighteen so they could make room for someone else. I packed my bags that night and slept in the bus station. The next day, I ran into a girl who’d stayed in the same foster home as me a few years earlier. She and two other girls were looking for another roommate. That’s where I’ve been living for the past three years.” “You’re twenty-one now?” “I will be...at eleven sixteen tonight.” Rebel couldn’t remember the last time he’d given a damn about a woman’s feelings, especially those of one he didn’t know. Taken aback by the protective emotions her story had stirred inside him, he suddenly wanted to gather her in his arms, tell her he was sorry for all she’d been through, and that everything was going to be okay. But a quick reality check forced him to keep his distance. He had a feeling that Gypsy’s uneasiness when they first met was more than simply being afraid of a strange man. Her reaction had been one of terror, and he knew he’d have to walk on eggshells until she began to trust him. Instead of offering comfort and reassurance, he settled for standing three feet away and wishing her a happy birthday. The smile she tried to give him was the saddest he’d ever seen, so he changed the subject. “How’d you get all the calluses on your hands?” Gypsy blushed again and jammed her hands into the front pockets of her overalls. “Working. Since I started living on my own, I’ve been cleaning houses during the day and waiting tables at night.” Rebel fell silent. He tried to imagine what life had been like for Gypsy the past eleven years. The people he knew who grew up without the love of a family had ended up bitter and hardened, but she seemed genuinely unaffected...at least on the outside. She snuck a quick glance at Rebel. “I told you too much, didn’t I?” He turned in her direction but didn’t get the chance to answer. “It’s just that no one’s ever really been interested in me, and I got carried away,” she continued. “Please say I haven’t scared you off by telling my entire life story.” His voice was low and reassuring when he said, “I’m not going anywhere.” She nodded and they fell into step together, continuing their walk in companionable silence until they came to a stream. Rebel crossed first, pushing off with his right leg and effortlessly landing on the other side. Then he reached out to her. “Give me your hand.” * * * * Gypsy shook her head slightly, staring at his hand as if she would break if he touched her. “No thanks, I can do it.” Even though her limited experience with men had proven that they only did nice things for women when they wanted something in return, Gypsy felt that Rebel was trustworthy, and his offer to help was genuine. She’d taken a giant step today by opening up to him, but wasn’t ready to let him help her. Not yet. Rebel withdrew his hand and backed off at Gypsy’s reluctance. Relieved, Gypsy took a deep breath and crouched down, preparing to jump over the stream. Then the rock she was standing on shifted and she lost her balance. “Oh!” she shouted, and began flailing her arms to keep from falling. Rebel sprang forward and caught her around the waist as she started to fall, pulling her safely across the water. As momentum propelled them backward, Rebel wrapped his arms tightly around Gypsy to keep her in front of him, using his body to break her fall. When they landed in a pile of brush beside the stream, Gypsy immediately pulled out of his grasp and got to her feet. “Thanks,” she said, brushing herself off, “I can’t swim.” Rebel stood. “Well, I doubt you would’ve drowned in two feet of water, but you’re welcome anyway.” “Oh.” When she caught herself giggling, she paused at the pleasant sound, wondering how long it had been since she’d been happy enough to laugh. “Right.” When they were both brushed clean, Gypsy walked a few feet away and sat down on a large boulder. “Do you mind if I sit for a minute? I’ve got so much hair in my face I can hardly see.” “Take as long as you need.” She undid what was left of her ponytail, lowered her head upside down to shake her hair, then flipped it right side up. Watching her slow, graceful movements, Rebel sat down beside her. As she turned to face him, the breeze caused a stray, red curl to fall in front of her face. “What about you, Rebel, have you lived in Hagerstown long?” “All my life.” “How many years is that?” “Thirty.” “Do you have a lot of family here?” Rebel swallowed hard, giving Gypsy the feeling she’d hit on a touchy subject. “Almost everyone I’m related to lives here. The rest of the family’s scattered around the county. But I have to warn you, Gypsy, we’re not very popular. Your reputation could be ruined just for talking to me.” She shrugged. “You’ve heard my story. If that isn’t something for people to gossip about, what is? How do you know your reputation won’t be ruined by talking to me?” He grinned and raised his hand, brushing at her stray curl. “People have always looked down on me because of the family I was born into. You won’t be able to ruin the bad reputation I’ve been trying to outrun my entire life, Gypsy.” Then he winked at her. “But thanks for your concern.” “You’re welcome.” “Aw, what the hell,” Rebel said. “If you’re going to be living here, you’ll hear about my family’s history sooner or later. I might as well tell you the truth before you’re subjected to whatever warped stories are floating around town.” Rebel scanned the ground and leaned over to pick a small tree limb. After inspecting it, he reached into his back pocket, took out a pocketknife, and opened it. Just as he began shaving off the bark, he turned to Gypsy and winked. “You want me to tell you a story?” With a bright smile, Gypsy nodded. Just the way he’d asked her that question made her heart flutter. She’d never even been very interested in talking to a man before, but she just couldn’t get enough of Rebel McCassey. “My great-great-great grandfather, Patrick McCassey, won the very land we’re sitting on in 1832 during a poker game at The Well, a saloon that used to be where the town hall now stands. “There’s ten acres in all, so that’s what we call it, Ten Acres. This is good land, but it’s never been used for anything but hunting. There’s a one-room cabin in the middle of the property where my cousins and I stay in the fall during deer season.” She listened in awe as he told her of his family’s troubled past, even forgetting to breathe occasionally when the tales became too intriguing. “Wow,” she said, wide-eyed, “horse thieves, army deserters, killers. That stuff is fascinating! But I have to admit, some of those recent stories made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Does your family history have anything to do with how you got your name?” The left corner of his mouth lifted into a lopsided grin. “Actually, it does. After so many years of giving birth to future criminals, the women in my family started naming some of their children after American outlaws. I have uncles and cousins named for Frank and Jesse James, Billy the Kid and Cole and Jim Younger. “My eyes are blue now, but they were the color of Confederate gray when I was born. That’s how I got the name Rebel.” “I love it,” she told him. “Do you have a middle name?” He cocked his left eyebrow. “Do you?” “Amelia,” she said shyly. “Raider.” “Wow, what a great name!” Rebel turned his attention back to the branch. “Yeah,” he said sarcastically, “real great.” “You’re lucky you can trace your heritage back so many years. My mom ran away from home at fifteen and never talked about her family. My father only came around a couple of times, and I don’t know much more about him other than his name. If I was part of a big family like yours, I’d consider myself the luckiest person in the world.” “I’ve never considered myself lucky before. At least not in the way you’re referring to. Being surrounded by my relatives while growing up definitely had its advantages, but it’s not as great as it sounds. McCassey’s are nothing but trouble. We have been for generations. Not many decent people want anything to do with us.” Rebel neither admitted nor denied his involvement in any of the trouble he said his family had caused, but Gypsy had a hard time believing he was as bad as he made himself out to be. “If people don’t like you, how does your garage stay in business?” He chuckled. “No McCassey’s were ever good enough to step foot in anyone’s house, but we are good enough to crawl under their cars and fix them. That just shows the high opinion everyone has of us.” Sad because Rebel really seemed to be bothered by who he was, she gently laid a hand on his knee. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’d like to be your friend.” “My friend? I’d like that, Gypsy, but it’s not a good idea. If you get mixed up with me, no one else will want anything to do with you. You should go home and forget you ever met me.” “Rebel, can I explain something to you?” “Go ahead,” he said, folding his knife and replacing it in his pocket. “I’m new in town, don’t
have any family, and have been poor my entire life. Gypsy knew it was probably hard for Rebel to tell her about his family, making her feel guilty for not being totally honest with him. But she couldn’t tell him everything. Not yet. Not until she was sure he would keep her secrets; the secrets that had almost...and would someday...destroy her. * * * * Rebel remained quiet as he seemed to be considering what she’d said. “Reb,” he said suddenly. Confused, she looked at him. “Excuse me?” “My friends call me Reb.” “If that’s your way of telling me its okay for us to be friends, then I accept.” Gypsy was so happy, that before she realized what she was doing, she’d kissed him on the cheek, surprising them both. She had never initiated so much as a conversation with a member of the opposite sex, let alone a kiss. But Reb had a surprisingly powerful affect on her emotions. He stood abruptly, tossed the limb to the ground, and adjusted his hat. “Come on,” he motioned for her to get up, “it’ll be dark soon and you need to get home.” Another half hour into their walk, while Gypsy was telling Rebel about the job she’d found at The Tea Cup Diner in town, a sudden movement fifty yards away caught Rebel’s attention. Stopping in his tracks, he extended his forearm to stop Gypsy and put a finger to his lips. “Shhh.” They stood silently for a moment, then Rebel whispered, “My brother, Judd, is coming at us from that cluster of maples over there. Don’t be afraid. His line of bull is all an act, he won’t hurt you.” Gypsy looked up at Reb and held his gaze just long enough to let him know she believed him. She hoped he understood, because there was no time to explain. In the next second, Judd was upon them. “Well, well, well, little brother. Where’d you find this cute little piece of ass?” Judd reached out to touch her hair, but Rebel smacked his hand away and stepped in front of Gypsy, putting himself between her and his brother. “Lay off, Judd. What the hell are you doing out here?” Judd looked at Rebel and laughed. “This is my land just as much as it is yours. So I could ask you the same thing.” “You could, but you won’t get an answer. Beat it.” Amazed at how much the brothers looked alike, Gypsy watched them closely as they stared each other down. They were exactly the same height, and both men were noticeably muscular in their torso and forearms. Even their amazing, royal blue eye color was the same. The only difference was that where Rebel’s hair was straight and so dark it looked black, Judd’s was a thick, rich brown mop of little-too-long untamed curls. Judd glanced at Gypsy, smirked, and looked back to his brother. “I got me a date, and I’m headed to the cabin. So unless you two are planning to use it, I’ll be on my way.” Rebel took what seemed like a protective step toward Gypsy. “Yeah, you do that.” “It was nice meeting you, honey,” Judd said as he took a pack of Marlboro’s from his jacket pocket. “What’d you say your name was?” Rebel grabbed the cigarettes from his brother. “She didn’t. And you know better than to smoke around all this dry brush. Get the hell out of here.” Judd gave Gypsy one last, long look and turned to Rebel. “This isn’t over.” Then he walked away cursing under his breath. Rebel watched Judd until he was out of sight then focused his attention on Gypsy. “Are you okay?” “Fine,” she said, trying to understand what just happened. “Why is he so angry with you?” “Because I was born. Judd and I are only ten months apart. He’s older. The two of us have been beating on each other since we were strong enough to make fists, but it doesn’t mean anything. Just a little sibling rivalry is all.” “That’s all? It looked to me like you two were ready to kill each other.” “Trust me, Gypsy, that was nothing.” “But—” “But nothing,” he said curtly. “Shit like that happens all the time; if not with Judd, then someone else.” Without warning, Rebel grabbed her shoulders and yelled, “Dammit, Gypsy, do you see what I mean now? Hanging around me will bring you nothing but trouble.” She looked at him, blinking in confusion at the sudden change in his demeanor. “Come on, Rebel, that was nothing more than a brotherly fight. I’ll admit it was scary at first, since I didn’t know what was going on. But everything’s fine. It was no big deal.” He shook his head. “It was just a brotherly fight this time. And it was no big deal this time. But you won’t be able to avoid trouble or danger by hanging around me, Gypsy. Just like I can’t.” Unafraid, Gypsy stared at Rebel as he lectured her. The emotions on his face and in his voice may have been anger, but his eyes showed something different. The concern she’d seen in them earlier had returned. Gypsy wished she knew why this man she’d only known a few hours cared about her so much. But it didn’t really matter. She was tired of being alone and not having anyone to share things with. And it wasn’t like she had so many friends in her life that there wasn’t room for another. Rebel let go of Gypsy’s shoulders as quickly as he’d grabbed them. “I’m sorry,” he said, offering an apology she wanted to tell him was unnecessary. “I don’t know why I did that.” She reached out and brushed his large, rough hand with hers. “I do. It was because you’re right. I understand now that being around you can definitely be dangerous. But I don’t care about your family’s reputation, Reb, or how much trouble you personally have gotten into. None of this changes my mind. I want to be your friend.” He shrugged and put his hands out at his side. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. But you seem to know what it feels like to be judged for things you have no control over, just like I do. So if you’re willing to accept me, bad blood and all, then who am I to turn down your friendship? Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She smiled again, her bright green eyes sparkling in the twilight. They continued walking and reached the edge of the woods a few minutes after their run-in with Judd. Rebel stopped and pointed in the direction of the rising moon. “Franklin Street is just over that hill.” Gypsy frowned. “Aren’t you coming?” “I can’t.” “Why not?” “I have to get to the garage. I drive a tow truck when I’m not fixing cars, and I’m on duty tonight.” “Well,” she said, still frowning, “thanks for walking me out of the woods. Will I see you soon?” He shrugged, giving Gypsy the impression he was trying to avoid encouraging her. When he had been silent just a moment too long, she decided to speak up. “Did I do something wrong? Is there a reason you don’t want to see me?” “Not at all, Gypsy. But I’m pretty busy. Sunday’s are my only day off.” She didn’t believe for a second that was the only reason they couldn’t see each other. Crossing her arms, she tilted her head and stared at him. “You don’t believe me, do you?” Gypsy did nothing more than shake her head slightly. Rebel nodded. “The truth is that I’d like very much to see you again. But honestly, the less time you spend around me, the better off you’ll be.” Not caring that the disappointment in her heart was probably written all over her face, Gypsy continued to stare. When Rebel finally said, “You’re going to be working at The Tea Cup, right?” Gypsy felt her sadness melt away. “All breakfast and lunch shifts Monday through Friday,” she said excitedly, “I’ll be there from five-thirty in the morning until three in the afternoon.” “The garage is right across the street,” he told her. “I go in for breakfast every now and then. Maybe I’ll see you there.” It wasn’t much, but it gave her hope that she might see him once in a while. “I’ll save you a table.” She turned and left the woods without looking back. |