The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

gluten-free options as well as organic and farm-to-table food. At first, some people complained. They liked the old design with the old music and familiar meals. Definitely didn’t want marble counters, wooden booths or fancy food. But after a while, they adapted. They changed, and Sunnyside Grille still remains the most popular diner in Rose Bend.”

Again, he turned her, so they both surveyed the sprawl of the town and the breathtaking view of Monument Mountain and Mount Everett soaring above it.

“We have a new nondenominational church and a synagogue. The resource center hosts several advocacy programs for our LGBTQ community, to provide support for their mental and physical health, and help them lead successful lives in an often intolerant world. We have a Puerto Rican mayor.” He nodded. “What I want you to see, Sydney, is that yes, we’re still the same in the way that you’re still the same person who left here. But just like you’ve grown and changed, so have we. Just give us a chance to show you. To welcome you.”

Several beats of silence passed between them, and he was about to release her and continue on their walk when her quiet voice halted him.

“What if the woman is still hurt?”

He barely caught that low whisper. It throbbed with old wounds. But he did catch it. And he lowered his head, bracing his jaw against the side of her head, her curls tickling his chin, mouth and cheek. Vanilla filled his nose, and he subtly inhaled the scent.

“That’s okay. Because she’s not too old to be healed. And she’ll find healing right here in the very place she ran from.”

Like you did.

But he ignored that taunting voice. Her situation and his were different. There was no redemption or miracle cure for him. The best part of him was buried in the cemetery behind St. John’s.

He shifted from behind her, taking her hand again. This time she didn’t hesitate to enfold her fingers around his. That tiny show of trust shouldn’t have struck him in the chest like a fist. Shouldn’t have had him battling the need to tunnel his fingers through those thick, sexy curls to tip her head back and brush her lips with a kiss of thankfulness.

He shoved those feelings deep. Like he did lately with most things he didn’t want to dwell on. Pretended they didn’t exist.

They walked in companionable silence for the few minutes it took to reach the edge of downtown. At the last stoplight, the businesses fell away to a vast open field that the long-ago founders of Rose Bend had agreed wouldn’t be spoiled by construction. The Glen. In the spring and winter, the town’s annual festivals were held there. And in the summer, The Glen’s rich green grass became the grounds for one of the Northeast’s largest motorcycle rides and rallies. Men, women and families traveled from all over the country to this part of the Berkshires to celebrate the freedom of the road with concerts, games and special events all centered around Rose Bend’s very special guests.

Since the town’s businesses benefited from the flood of visitors and proceeds from the event went to the This Is Home foster care youth home, Rose Bend went all out to welcome them. From special prices at the hotels to the Sunnyside Grille temporarily changing their menu to include the Hog and Cog breakfast and the On Any Sunday dinner plate.

But The Glen was the heart of it all.

As mayor, Cole had made the rally a focal point of his platform. And standing here with Sydney by his side as they surveyed the transformation of the wide field, pride slid through him like sun-warmed molasses.

“Damn,” Sydney breathed, dropping his hand and stepping farther onto the carpet of fragrant green. “This is nothing like how I remembered.” She shook her head, spreading her arms wide. “When did it get so...more? No, wait.” She whirled around, pinning him with a narrowed stare. “You. You’re the more. All of this...” She swept her arm out, indicating the rows of vendor booths, the huge stage with state-of-the-art equipment, the large barrel grills ready to be manned, the play area complete with slides, rides, bouncy houses and toys to entertain children of all ages. “It’s because of you.”

“Not just me,” he corrected, sliding his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “It was most definitely a team implementing the ideas and a town that got behind it. But yes—” he nodded “—I challenged all of us to think bigger, be more inclusive. I researched what Daytona, Myrtle Beach and Sturgis offer and how we could do the same but also provide some things they don’t. Not that Rose Bend is trying to compete with those rides, but there’s something special about this town, so we should offer the people who travel here that ‘special.’ Family. A home away from home. A diverse and inclusive community. Show them that even though they’re here for two weeks out of the year, for that time Rose Bend is theirs as much as it is ours. So yes, we have the daily rides and the concerts with both famous and local acts, but now they can also bring themselves to us by selling their art, jewelry, clothes. We have a place for their children to safely play. We enlarged the camping ground, provided the best facilities and security. And I think we’ve accomplished it.”

When she didn’t reply, he ducked his chin and met her intense scrutiny, which didn’t match the almost sweet smile curving one half of her mouth. Again, he forced himself to focus on her eyes.

“What?” he asked.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how you skated around my question earlier. The one about why you ran for mayor,” she continued before he could ask what part of their conversation she was referring to. “I see right through you, Coltrane Dennison. This,” she said, twirling a hand in the direction of the booths, the stage, “is why