one of his workers bothered him, although he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t even know the woman, but didn’t the fact that she was so transient that she’d stopped for an impromptu bath in the creek tell him all he needed to know about her character and background?
He gave himself a mental shake to loosen the half-naked image of her from his mind. If he had time for a woman in his life, it would be someone who had her act together, not a high-maintenance nightmare.
But he didn’t have time for a woman—he had a town to build.
A few months before his father had passed away, he’d invited a teenage Marcus to go fishing, just the two of them, which was unusual since his younger brothers almost always tagged along. Marcus had known his father had something on his mind. Later, when their baited lines were dropped into a deep pool of water, and they were each chewing on a blade of sourgrass, Alton Armstrong in his quiet, wise way claimed that Sweetness was more special than anyone realized. He’d said it was a golden place that molded people instead of the other way around, and that life in the mountains, despite its challenges, was a way of life worth passing on to the next generation. He must’ve had a premonition about his own death because that day he’d extracted a promise from Marcus to keep the Armstrong family planted in Sweetness, no matter what.
That promise was the reason Marcus had gathered his brothers together after they’d all left respective branches of the military to rebuild this town, why Marcus had practically blackmailed Amy Bradshaw to tell Kendall about his son once Marcus discovered his existence—the boy was an Armstrong, and the family had to stay together…in Sweetness. Which meant Sweetness had to prosper.
Nothing was going to distract him from his promise or his goal. He felt the mantle of responsibility of this town’s future every morning when he opened his eyes and every night before he closed them. If they stayed on track, at year end they would meet the requirements of the federal program and the land that made up the city limits of Sweetness would be turned over to the chartered resident shareholders, including him and his brothers.
But he was afraid if he took his eye off the ball for a minute, was distracted by anything personal, something would happen to derail the entire plan he’d worked so diligently to orchestrate. And he would let his father down.
He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Marcus glanced at his watch, realizing it was almost time to meet Rachel Hutchins at the diner to discuss the events she was organizing for Homecoming weekend. While he was there, he might as well talk to Colonel Molly about her managerial style.
He leaned over to lift his fishing pole and reel in his line. At the sight of his empty hook, he frowned—while he was distracted by the topless water nymph, some lucky fish had gotten away with a fat mealworm…which seemed fitting considering his previous line of thinking.
When he reached for his tackle box, something bobbing in the water caught his eye. He squinted, then waded in to scoop it up. It was a bracelet—braided leather and wire, with a dangling charm. Nice. And since the leather wasn’t yet saturated, he realized it probably belonged to the topless woman.
Marcus scratched his head—assuming he ran into her, how would he return the bracelet without revealing he’d been privy to the little show she’d put on? He considered the trinket for a moment, then dropped it into his shirt pocket and decided not to worry about it.
He’d probably never see her again.
5
“Guess where I am,” Alicia said into the phone.
“Rocky Top?” Nina asked.
“Right. Just checking my phone reception.”
“What’s the place like?”
Alicia squinted up at the white water tower that loomed over her approach. Welcome to Sweetness, the tank proclaimed. But spray-painted over the black lettering was I ♥ Nikki in red and I ♥ Amy in blue.
“It’s…quaint.” A car coming toward her honked, then the driver waved as they went by.
“What was that?” Nina asked.
“Everyone down here honks and waves,” Alicia said. “I’m driving a pickup truck.”
“Get out.”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Wow, when you go undercover, you go deep. What’s your plan?”
Alicia slowed as what she presumed was the downtown area came into sight. “I’m going to find a place to talk to people without raising any red flags.” The sidewalks were surprisingly crowded. Everyone turned to look at her vehicle. “I have a feeling that everyone here can spot a stranger.”
She panned side to side, taking in the odd-looking buildings that appeared to have been constructed with a motley collection of materials—recycled materials, she realized. Her gaze landed on a sign that read Hair Salon, and she smiled into the phone. “Gotta run—I just found a place where people talk.”
After disconnecting the call, she followed signs for parking to a large grassy lot. The town was obviously preparing for the arrival of many cars, probably the Homecoming event she’d read about. She parked Bo’s smelly truck and climbed out, then made her way back to the town’s main street. On the way to the hair salon, she took stock of the businesses she’d read about on the website—the General Store, bank, the clinic and other buildings, including one that simply read Diner. It looked like a movie set for a small town…this place was surreal.
Or unreal?
The sidewalks, she noted, were more extensively networked than the buildings, hinting at more construction to come. And they were uncommonly beautiful. The light-colored concrete contained bits of colored glass—more use of recycled materials, she realized.
The people looked laid-back, dressed for the sweltering weather and moving slowly. By the matching T-shirts and hats a clump of kids wore, she assumed some sort of team sports game was about to be played. The presence of children was a little jarring—for their sake she hoped nothing illicit was going on in this town.
The hair salon, she noted wryly, featured a striped barber’s pole next to its sign. She opened the door and was immediately struck by how busy the place was—and how…segregated.
Women sat on one side of the salon, apparently waiting for one of the three female stylists working there. Men sat on the other side, waiting for one of the two barbers attending old-fashioned barber’s chairs. There was literally a wall down the center of the establishment.
Alicia’s back stiffened. Privacy was one thing, but even the waiting areas were separate?
The other thing that caught her eye was the sign that said all haircuts were five dollars.
She was in the Twilight Zone.
She walked into her gender-appropriate area and smiled at a rounded, dark-haired woman sitting there, waiting her turn. The woman looked her up and down, but offered a smile. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Alicia said. “Do you know if they take walk-ins?”
“Oh, sure,” the woman said, “but you might have to wait a while. I’m Susan Sosa.”
The introduction took her by surprise—no one in Manhattan offered their name unless they were applying for a job. “Alicia,” she responded, her mind racing for an alias last name. “Alicia Waters.”
“Nice to know you,” the woman said, then nodded at Alicia’s bag. “Beautiful purse.”
Alicia realized her Chanel bag didn’t exactly go with the rest of her outfit. “It’s a knockoff,” she lied, “but thanks.”
“Have a seat,” Susan said, gesturing to the empty chair next to her. “When did you move here?”
“I just arrived,” Alicia said, taking the proffered seat. “Actually,