Visions of Love (Arden's Glen Romance Book 3) Read online

  Zade looked around at the motley group of guys. He’d met Egan through Mitch—whom he’d gone toe-to-toe with in the hospital last winter. Seems he didn’t take too kindly to learn Zade had once slept with his new girlfriend, Dez. Well, fiancée now. He was actually very happy for them. He never thought he’d see the day when Dez settled down. But they were the real deal, and Mitch was one lucky bastard.

  One of the other guys, Brecken, he was a harder nut to crack. He owned the LettuceWrap café in town and did some charity work out at the kennels. Other than that, he didn’t know a lot about him except that he was quiet. Brooding. Intimidating.

  And, unfortunately, he was also Rosalie’s older brother.

  Zade pushed back his chair and grabbed his beer. “Sorry, man. Rough day at the hospital. Can’t get someone out of my head tonight,” he said, knowing they’d assume he was talking about a patient. “Unfortunately, I have rounds tomorrow morning, so I’m out.”

  He drained his beer and nodded to Mitch. “Hey, can I grab you for a sec?” He followed Mitch into the kitchen and tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin.

  “What can I do ya for, Zade?” Mitch asked, stretching his arm back to relieve the stiffness in his shoulder. Damn. The dude was ripped. Zade did his best to work out and was lean and fit as a result. But his long hours at the hospital prevented him from having quite the physique Mitch must work his ass off for. Guess Dez liked ’em more beefy than intellectual.

  Zade leaned against the kitchen island, adjusting his black-framed glasses. He didn’t need them all the time, just when he was reading. Or looking at his poker hand.

  “Just wanted to say thanks to you and Dez for introducing me to Rosalie at your party,” Zade said, keeping his voice on the lower side so Brecken didn’t overhear their conversation. He glanced into the den where the rest of the guys were starting another round. Brecken was busy shooting the shit with Bruce, the oldest guy in the bunch.

  “Yeah, no problem,” Mitch said, giving nothing else away.

  “So . . . how well do you know her?” Zade asked.

  “Why do you ask?” Mitch shifted and stood a little taller. “You’re not worried I slept with her, are you?” he asked, smirking.

  Anger flared in Zade’s stomach, his jaw clenching in response. He glared at Mitch, never breaking his gaze. “That wasn’t why I asked, no,” he said. “I thought we were past that.”

  “We are. Calm down, dude. I was just messing with you. But it looks like I hit a nerve. You got a thing for Rosalie?” Mitch opened the fridge and grabbed a new beer. “Want one?” he offered.

  “No thanks. I really do have to get up early. We’ve been packed this week with all kinds of accidents. Summer brings out the stupid in people,” he said and laughed. “How’s Ti adjusting?”

  Mitch nodded, pulling a swig of his beer. “As well as he can. It’s been a rough eight months, for sure. But we seemed to have turned a corner with the adoption. I’ve been keeping him busy this summer at the youth center so I can keep him out of any more trouble.”

  “That’s a smart idea. We have volunteer opportunities at the hospital, too, if you need any other distractions. Could be good for him.”

  “Let me think about it. Last winter was hard on him, losing his dad and all. The hospital may bring up too many of those memories. Thanks, by the way. You did a killer job on his surgery. Stomach healed up nicely.”

  “I’m glad he made it,” Zade admitted. “He’s a lucky kid,” he said, shaking his head. If the fence post had moved just an inch over when it pierced Ti’s stomach, or if a piece of it hadn’t lodged itself there, he would’ve bled out.

  “Yeah, he is,” Mitch agreed. “So . . . Rosalie?”

  Zade grinned, trying to figure out what exactly he wanted to ask.

  “Damn,” Mitch whistled. “You already have it bad for her, don’t you? What the hell happened after you walked off with her? Hey, wait—you didn’t sleep with her already, did you?” Mitch asked, suddenly looking a little less impressed and a little more pissed off. “’Cause she’s like a little sister to me. And if you treat her like another one-night stand—”

  “Calm down, Mitch. I know we have a history, and it didn’t exactly start off on the right foot. But just because I had a one-night stand with Dez doesn’t mean I sleep around.”

  “Yeah, let’s not bring up my fiancée’s name in this, okay?” Mitch said, the muscles in his arm flexing as he swung his elbow back like he was casually stretching.

  Zade got the point.

  “Understood,” he said, turning to leave. He had his hand on the back door when Mitch stopped him.

  “Tread lightly, Zade. She comes across as a huge flirt, but she’s young—and pretty inexperienced. Maybe too young for someone as established as you,” he suggested.

  Zade turned his head, meeting Mitch’s pointed gaze.

  “We on the same page then?” Mitch asked.

  “If by on the same page you mean stop at nothing to win over her trust and her heart, then, yeah, we’re on the same page,” he said. “But I’m not playing around, Mitch. Rosalie’s not some random chick I want a one-night stand with—”

  “That’s good,” Brecken said from the kitchen entrance. “’Cause if she was, I’d have to kill you.”

  ZADE TOSSED AND turned all night, unable to get Rosalie off his mind, or the threat Brecken made against him. Sure, he’d patted him on the back and said he was kidding, but he squeezed Zade’s shoulder a little too tightly when he told him that Rosalie was off limits.

  Not that he had any intention of listening to Brecken. Rosalie was a beautiful, confident, successful woman—she could damn well make up her own mind without her big brother’s interference. He just needed to get her to go out with him once—so he could show her how they were meant to be together. The clock was ticking, though, and he needed to make a decision about a possible move within the next two weeks. They weren’t going to hold the chief surgeon position open for him forever. It was the job he’d busted his ass for before leaving North Central in Texas to come help take care of his ailing mother two years ago. Her unexpected death over Christmas still numbed him and his sister, Zada.

  Zade checked his watch. It was four in the morning. There was no way he was going back to bed now. He threw on some running clothes and laced up his sneakers. He’d found that the only way through the pain was to simply push past the point of exhaustion. Something he was unfortunately a master at. He texted his sister. It was early, but more often than not she was restless too—unable to get back into the normal pattern of a life past surviving the death of their mother.

  Zade: U up?

  Zada: Have to ask?

  Zade: Wanna go for a run?

  Zada: Meet you in 5.

  It was awfully convenient to have his younger sister living in the same downtown loft condos he was in. He supposed he should’ve bought a house by now, but the low-maintenance penthouse suited him. And it was just a few blocks from the hospital—which was both a blessing and a curse. Someday, he’d do the big country house. The white picket fence and children running barefoot in the yard. Damn if it didn’t bring Rosalie’s face to mind when he thought of his future. Of moving through the pain and finding his way back to love again.

  Zada would know what to do. She always had the best advice when it came to the opposite sex. Not that she was very good at dating these days, either. But she had a hell of a better track record than Zade. Work had been his mistress for far too many nights since arriving in Arden’s Glen. And she paled in comparison to the intriguing and complex puzzle that was Rosalie.

  “SO, THEN WHAT happened?” Celeste asked, leaning forward with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Well, then I ran into LuLu’s and had a mini panic attack,” Rosalie admitted, laughing. She reached over and gently smoothed her hand over the top of Dylan’s head, sighing at the soft brown hair that met her fingers. She was simply one of the most beautiful babies Rosalie had ever seen. It almost made
her envision having kids someday.

  Not someday soon.

  But someday.

  This was the closest Rosalie had ever come to feeling that tug. Her own adoptive parents had meant the world to her and had raised her like their own. But she still had flashbacks from early memories of her real mother that she should’ve been too young to remember. A dirty apartment. Cigarettes. Long, black hair. Laughter. And tears. Floods and floods of tears.

  She wasn’t sure if she was having memories or visions, but they knifed her all the same. How could Rosalie bring a child into the world when she didn’t even know where she came from? Records had been sealed. Maybe it was for the best. Some things were best left in the past where they belonged.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Dez said. “My God! You practically tried to seduce Mitch! Why would you suddenly be so flustered around Zade?”

  They could laugh at the memory now, but it had been really embarrassing for Rosalie at the time. Last winter she’d been crushing on Mitch Michaelson while, unbeknownst to her, he and Dez had already been quickly and passionately tumbling into love.

  “Probably because I knew deep inside that he wasn’t interested or available,” she admitted. “And,” she paused to take a sip of the sweet tea she was enjoying on Celeste’s back porch, “there’s something so intense about Zade that goes beyond how smart he is—do you know what I mean?” She looked to her friends for validation.

  “Oh, there’s something intense about him, all right,” Dez said. “It’s called tall, dark, and dreamy.” She leaned over, looking Rosalie right in the eyes. “And Mitch tells me he was asking about you at their poker game last night. Seems Brecken didn’t take too kindly to it.”

  Dez sat back, nodding her head when Rosalie looked at her with disbelief.

  “Stop,” Rosalie said. “He did not.”

  Celeste laughed, but then grew serious. “Yeah, but be careful, okay? I know his sister, Zada. They’re only about a year apart and are practically best friends. Especially since their mother died last winter—”

  “Wait, what?” Rosalie said, her heart aching for reasons she didn’t understand. “His mother passed away?”

  Celeste nodded. “Stroke, I believe. I don’t know if you know this, but Zade was a very successful surgeon in Dallas. He moved here about two years ago to help Zada take care of their mother,” she said, adjusting her daughter in her arms as she nursed contentedly, half asleep and making adorable squeaky noises.

  Rosalie laughed. “She’s a noisy little eater!” she said adoringly. “So, did their mom always live here then?” she asked, curious. “I don’t remember the Zampogna name being a familiar one while growing up, though there are certainly a lot of families I still don’t know from around here.”

  “I don’t think so. Mitch said their mother moved here about five years ago when her husband died. She didn’t have any family left in New York where they were living at the time, so she came down south to live with Zada,” Dez said.

  Rosalie nodded. She looked toward Celeste, something still puzzling her.

  “So, why did you say be careful? Not that it’s really an issue,” Rosalie clarified. She planned to steer clear of Zade. He smelled like trouble—too good looking, too flirty, too intense.

  “Why wouldn’t it be an issue?” Dez asked, putting her hand on Rosalie’s arm. “Weren’t you the one who said I could find someone to set you up with last Christmas?” she teased.

  “Well, yeah. That was before, though,” Rosalie admitted.

  “Before what?” Dez pushed. “Rosalie, you are young, gorgeous, funny, smart . . . This isn’t because he’s a doctor, is it?”

  Rosalie bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to admit it might be a small part of the issue. What would a man like Zade see in her? Unless it was the same thing her married high-school gym teacher had seen in her. She sighed, not wanting to relive one of her most shameful and embarrassing mishaps.

  “No, that’s not it,” she said carefully. “Well, it’s not the only thing. I’ve had a rocky past when it comes to men,” she admitted, taking a long sip of her tea and enjoying the rich southern sweetness.

  “I don’t want to be a curiosity or distraction for anyone ever again,” she started. She ran her finger along the rim of her glass, lost in painful memories. “Celeste knows how this story goes, so I’ll keep it short. High school gym teacher. Equipment room sex. Not once. Not twice. You get the picture. It was completely inappropriate, but I craved the attention at the time—even though I knew in my heart that it was a terrible decision. So, I’m trying to make better choices these days.”

  Dez grinned. “Zade is definitely a better choice, Rosalie. And it sounds like the feelings may be mutual, even if you seem to be ducking them for some reason.”

  “Zade’s definitely a better choice,” she admitted, grinning as she remembered the feel of her hands resting against his firm chest, his “boyfriend material” within her grasp. “But he’s also someone I would never want to hurt. And, I have some exciting news I haven’t shared with anyone yet,” she said.

  Celeste pulled Dylan into her arms, lifting her tank top back up. She gently rocked the baby, cooing softly into her hair. It made Rosalie long for something so deeply she didn’t understand it.

  “So, what’s the news?” Celeste asked, standing so she could put Dylan into the Pack ’n Play under the umbrella on the porch. She arched her back and stretched, a satisfied smile on her face as she looked down at the sleepy infant, smitten.

  “Remember how I mentioned that a cable TV show had emailed me with some questions about my radio show? They were really interested in my interview with Inez—the one where I channeled her grandfather, Javier Vega, and spoke to him on the other side. That’s when we found out about some of Arden’s Glen’s history and the love story between Javier’s great grandfather and Arden Bisette, who the town was named after,” she said. “Though, I only touched the iceberg of that story since the focus was mostly on Inez and the youth center. Anyway, they heard it and loved it.”

  “That’s wonderful! Do they want to do a documentary on Arden’s Glen or something?” Dez asked.

  “No, even better. They’re considering giving me my own TV show! They would select towns with unusual histories or unsolved mysteries, and I would get to interview the residents, find out the local lore, talk to those who’ve crossed over, and try to get the bottom of whatever questions the townspeople have about its origins. It actually really excites me, but—”

  “But what?” Celeste asked, her eyes huge. “That sounds like an amazing opportunity!”

  “But . . . I have my work with you. And Brecken. I can’t let him down. Not to mention my radio show, which I actually love,” she said with a heavy sigh. “And despite the way I feel sometimes in Arden’s Glen with my—abilities—it’s still the only home I’ve ever known.”

  “So why does that have to change?” Dez asked, scooping up some hummus on a healthy slice of naan. Rosalie looked at her and winked. She was the only one besides Mitch who knew that Dez was pregnant—one of the perks of her “abilities.” Sometimes, even when she wasn’t snooping, the energy was so strong there was no denying it. And Dez’s energy screamed “baby” the day Rosalie had talked to her at Ti’s adoption ceremony—the same day she met Zade.

  Damn. It kept coming back to Zade.

  “The TV show wants me to move. Their production studio is in California, and there will be supplemental studio work and on-camera interviews I’d need to do that require me being there in person. I haven’t told Brecken yet, though, so please don’t share any of this. I have no idea what I’m going to do,” she said, putting her head in her hands.

  Celeste walked over and rubbed her back. “Come here,” she said, helping Rosalie to a stand. Celeste wrapped her arms around her, and the tears started to fall. She couldn’t name all the reasons why she was crying, except there seemed to be an invisible thread that ran from her past to her present that was tugg
ing at her heart and her consciousness a little more each and every day.

  She wanted to run from the painful memories she had of growing up in a little town where she’d felt so out of place. Where her first real friend betrayed her because Rosalie’s “gifts” had scared her. Where these same gifts caught the sexual attention from a gym teacher twenty years her senior who never should’ve quenched his curiosity with a student. Where she was tormented by the memories of a mother who didn’t want her, an adoptive family that didn’t know quite what to make of her, and a past she was scared to piece together—despite the “gifts” that might help her do just that.

  The tears were a welcome release she hadn’t known she’d needed. Especially since, when all was said and done, the thing that haunted her the most in this moment was the future that could never exist with the town’s sexy surgeon—no matter how attractive she found him. That invisible thread that ran from her past to her present seemed to get all tied up in knots when he was around, confusing Rosalie even more with his presence.

  But there was no way she would put her dreams on hold—not when they were so close to coming true. Not even for a man who felt more like safety and home in their few conversations than anything that tied her to the very town she was trying to escape.

  “I REALLY NEED to talk to you,” Rosalie said to Brecken the next day while they were doing dishes in the back of the café during a lull in the afternoon crowd. Rosalie was washing and Brecken was drying. It’d been that way for as far back as she could remember. She glanced over at her brother. Despite being adopted, he had never made her feel as if she wasn’t his blood sister. Their parents, on the other hand . . .

  It was hard for them to learn that the daughter they adopted could see and talk to those on the other side. Barron and Lydia Alexander were southern-raised, born-and-bred Presbyterians, and Rosalie’s gifts had scared and confused them. They’d passed away when Rosalie was seventeen, and, thankfully, the court deemed her old enough to live with Brecken until she graduated high school at eighteen. They’d been living together in the same house they were raised in since then.