Author: Elizabeth Barone

Chapter 2: The Proposal
David

I’d been on a roll all morning. I’d just talked to Mrs. Wish—the owner of Wish Grocery and everyone’s honorary grandma—and the second to last person to cross off my list.

“I’m old,” she’d said. “I want to kick back and enjoy my grandchildren—all of them.” She pinched my cheek. “Sure, I’ll sell.”

I’d all but danced out of the store.

Goldie was the last one I needed to convince. I’d stopped by a couple times since I heard she was back in town, but both times she was tattooing. I didn’t want a tattoo, but making an appointment was the only way our very different schedules would align.

The years since high school had been extra good to her, finessing the perfection that had always been Theodora “Goldie” Mosley. The baggy black T-shirt she wore over biker shorts shouldn’t have been sexy, yet it hugged her curves in all the right ways. She’d been pretty in high school. In her thirties, she was downright stunning, her full lips painted purple, complementing her brown eyes and umber skin. Warmth lingered in those eyes as she gave my hand a squeeze. She was giving me all the “ask me out” vibes.

That prolonged eye contact was my cue to say, “So what are you doing for dinner tonight?” Except I was on a mission.

Before I could take her out, I had to cross her off my list.

Or, more specifically, her building.

I was gonna pitch her into selling her building to the town, and then I’d take her out—home run.

Even though I hadn’t been back in town long, I felt that familiar itch to prove myself. When I left, I’d been the kid whose dad died. When I came back, I was the new city planner who’d turned around a dying city. A small city, but still. It had gone from Brass City of the world, to most dangerous city in the state to, under my watch, thriving youthful utopia.

I could do the same for Stagwood Falls.

Fortunately for my hometown, we weren’t even on the list of dangerous places. We were, however, the emptiest Main Street in the state.

Goldie retrieved her hand, using it to tuck her braids behind her ear. “What’re you all deep in thought about?”

Time to get my head back into the game.

“I was just thinking how a lot’s changed since high school, and yet nothing’s changed,” I said. “I mean, here we are, me bugging you while you draw.”

She chuckled. “You were never bugging me.”

And we were back to that lingering eye contact.

When I pitched softball, it was all about timing, position, and speed. I needed to stay in the zone.

I cleared my throat. “How’s your grandpa?”

“He’s good,” she replied. “Torturing Sabella with his old dead bodies story.”

I laughed. “See? Nothing’s changed.”

“How’s your mom?”

“Still trying to convince me to stay with her instead of the house the town is loaning me.” I shook my head. “Never gonna happen. Did you know Benton’s staying with my mom now? In my old room, at that. Sometimes I think she’s trying to recreate our teen years,” I joked.

“I heard. Your mom means well, though.”

“I know.” Sometimes I forgot that Goldie wasn’t just a member of the dead dads club; she also belonged to the dead moms club. The other major difference between us was her parents were killed by a drunk driver, and my dad killed himself drinking. I was lucky I still had a mom, even if she was your typical overbearing Italian.

“How’s your sister?” Goldie asked, her pencil stroking across the page.

“Nic’s good. My niece is keeping her on her toes.” I grinned, thinking of the other night when I stopped by for dinner after work. My four-year-old niece LuLu was the best. That was why I’d moved back home. I’d done the whole living-by-myself-in-the-big-city thing in my twenties, and I’d enjoyed every moment of it. But I missed my family. It was weird not seeing them regularly when I was used to seeing them every day.

“She’s cute,” Goldie admitted. It did something to me, her asking about my family. “I ran into them at the grocery store.”

I raised my eyebrows and she laughed. “What?” I asked.

“Dude, I forgot how much those caterpillars distract me,” she teased. “And those dimples. Jesus.”

“I come by them honestly.” I wiggled my eyebrows, and she laughed again. The sound reverberated through me, settling in my marrow. In high school, I would’ve done anything to make her laugh. She was already beautiful, but when she laughed, pink tinged her copper cheeks and her face glowed. She’d toss her head back, braids flying in every direction, clapping her hands at my joke. In homeroom, I wasn’t just the second shortest kid in my freshman class. I was David Mosconi, the kid who could make her laugh. I still had it. We still had it, that instant connection.

“How are you not tied down by now?” she asked.

I smirked. She could tie me down any time.

But first, it was time to get to work.

Setting the sketch aside, Goldie tapped the screen of her phone a few times. A second later, Mastodon played through speakers I hadn’t noticed mounted to the walls.

“Their newest album,” I said, nodding in approval. “From the singles they released, I thought it was gonna be all over the place in a weird way, but hearing it from start to finish, it makes perfect sense.”

Her head snapped up, gaze zeroing in on me. “Yeah,” she said, surprised. “I thought the same thing.”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“I just . . .” She gave my suit an up and down glance.

“Thought I went all cookie-cutter? Nah. I became a city planner so I could afford concerts.”

“And real Timbs,” she added.

“And real Timbs,” I repeated with a laugh. The two of us were some of the only kids in our high school who didn’t have real Timberlands. Her grandfather and my widowed mom couldn’t afford anything other than Kmart work boots.

Our eyes met, and again I felt that old connection spark back to life. I saw my chance.

And watched as it slipped away.

“Where are you thinking of getting this cat?” she asked. “It’s kind of hard to draw without a reference or at least an idea of placement.”

Tattoos were more complicated than I’d thought.

“You know, I’m not sure.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve, uh, got to think about it a little more.”

“Take your time. Tattoos are forever . . .until I expand enough to get a laser for removal.” She winked. She slid the drawing into a folder marked with my name and, just like that, my hour was up.

We both stood at the same time. I traced her tattoos with my eyes, appreciating the gold line art flowers and geometric shapes that wound around her arms. Even back in high school, she stood out. Like me, she didn’t fit into a single clique. She had purple braids and a crystal stud in her nose, fake Timbs on her feet. I was in love.

“I’m glad you’re back. Stagwood’s gotten really stagnant, so your shop is refreshing,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna refresh Main Street, one block at a time,” I told her. “Starting with this one. Instead of a bunch of empty shops, it’s gonna be condos on top to draw in first-time home buyers.”

She crossed her arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Condos?”

“I should’ve brought the concept art. They’ll fit in nicely,” I promised. “I’ve already got all the other shop owners on the block on board. You’re the last one I’m pitching to.”

“Pitching what?”

I leaned against a cabinet. “Sell me your building. The town, I mean. I’ll get you market value and you’ll be set. You can—”

She held up a hand. “Sell you my building?” She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? Where are Poppy, Kinsley, Sabella, and I all supposed to go?”

“Anywhere you want. Once you sell, you can afford to move into the Stagwood Heights neighborhood. It’s right on the lake. It’s beautiful.”

“I don’t care if it’s an actual palace, David,” she said. “There is no way we’re leaving. This building is more than just some dusty old shop to us. It’s our heart.”

I blinked. “So . . . you’re saying no?”

“I’m saying hell no.”

I replayed the last hour in my mind, analyzing where I went wrong. It didn’t make sense. All the other shop owners said yes as soon as I told them how much they stood to make.

That was where I’d dropped the ball. I hadn’t given her actual numbers. She’d thrown me off my game with her pretty smile and those biker shorts on that ass.

“Did I mention your building will sell for two hundred thousand? Cash—a nice down payment,” I said.

But she shook her head at me. “Nope. Never happening.” She lifted her eyebrows at me, as if expecting a rebuttal.

I had nothing.

I’d only counted on winning. It was a rookie mistake—one I wouldn’t make again.

I’d figure out a way to convince her. Maybe she just needed to see the official numbers on paper, in black and white. Who said no to $200,000 cash?

“David?” she called as I neared the lobby.

I turned around, the tightness in my chest loosening into the familiar warm sensation that always took over when I looked into her eyes. “Yeah?”

“It was nice seeing you,” she said softly.

An hour earlier, I would’ve been putty in her hands at hearing her say that. She’d effectively just thrown an L-shaped wrench into my winning streak. I’d been so close to saving our town, bringing us from an outdated lakeside summer tourist attraction to a modern year-round home to artists. I wished she could see what I saw: artisan studios and store-fronts where the creatives lived upstairs. It’d bring new blood to town and save us thousands in costly maintenance of crumbling “historic” buildings.

“You’ll see me again,” I said. “I don’t give up that easily.”

The stubborn tilt of her chin told me neither did she.

Everything Goldie touches turns to gold, so when the building that’s been in her family for generations is in trouble, her family calls on her to help save it. Moving back to her hometown and back in with her family comes with definite perks—like no more rent—and emotional baggage in the form of Goldie’s high school crush turned hottie David. When she sees him again, all those old feelings come rushing back—and are quickly dampened when she finds out he wants to tear down her building to build a “better” Main Street.

For as long as David can remember, Stagwood Falls has been a small-town summer vacation hotspot. It’s the kind of town that will charm the socks off of anyone who decides to drive through no matter the season, and it’s his job to make sure Stagwood Falls stands out on the map all year around. All he needs to do is convince the townspeople to get on board, even if it means making some sacrifices. When Goldie returns to Stagwood Falls, David is immediately drawn to her just as he was back in high school. This time around, he’ll do whatever it takes to get her attention. What David doesn’t expect is for Goldie to be so opposed to his new revitalization strategy that she’s hellbent on throwing a massive wrench in his plan.

A Touch of Gold
Stagwood Falls: Love in Ink Series
Book 1
Kobo Originals

Photo via wasppics / Depositphotos

Chapter 1: Caterpillars
Goldie

Caterpillar eyebrows. They were all I could think about as I set up my tattoo station. The eyebrows in question belonged to David, the guy I crushed on through all four years of high school, and he had no idea. Thank goodness, because that would be embarrassing. I hadn’t seen him since I left everything I knew to create the life I dreamed of. A decade later, I was right back where I started, in Stagwood Falls, the town I grew up in.

Grew up, left, came back—David took that same path. I might’ve been long over my crush, but I was curious. Had he grown into those caterpillars, and did he have the same melty chocolate eyes that used to give me butterflies? Those were my burning questions, but what I was really dying to know was what he wanted me to tattoo on him.

We had an appointment any minute.

I left the shop for our apartment in the back, joining my sister Kinsley and our grandfather in the kitchen. She chewed a piece of honey wheat toast with Nutella, some of which was smeared across her deep brown skin.

“You got a little something.” I tapped my own face.

“Don’t judge me,” she said, dabbing it off with a napkin. “I haven’t been able to stop eating this stuff since I got laid off.”

“Girl, I get it. Chocolate makes everything better,” I said with a gentle smile. “Any luck renting a chair at Faith’s salon?”

She shook her head. “She’s full, but she said she’ll call me first if she loses anyone.” She shrugged. “I still can’t believe Paola’s closed. I’ve worked there since I was sixteen, but what can ya do?”

I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’re all right. We’re all caught up on taxes now, so you’ve got plenty of time to find a chair somewhere.”

“For now,” she agreed with a sigh. “I was on Poppy to close the music shop for the longest time, swearing up and down I could handle the taxes on our building. I feel like I let him down. I feel like I let you down.”

“Never,” I assured her. “You held it down here while I was running around New Haven, chasing my dream. It’s your turn now. There’s no rush. I’ll keep us in ramen,” I joked.

Poppy lowered his newspaper with a momentous crinkle. I’d almost forgotten he was sitting at the kitchen table with us. “I will not eat that stuff,” he proclaimed. “It’s basically Styrofoam.”

My grandfather, who’d raised us after our parents died, was the most stubborn person I knew. He was also my favorite person in the whole wide world.

“The dollar stuff in the store, sure. Come out to the city with me sometime for a real bowl of ramen, you’ll be singing a different tune.”

“I still can’t believe you actually lived in New Haven,” Kinsley said. “Shootings on the news every day.” She shuddered. “No offense to Sabella, but I could never do it. Give me sleepy little Stagwood Falls any day.”

“The city does have a lot of crime,” I agreed, “but the gossip mill here, whew! You could dance naked in the street in New Haven and no one would even look at you. People mind their business.”

“True. I was at Faith’s the other day,” Kinsley said, patting her fresh braids, “and the way people were talking about your tattoo shop, you would’ve thought you’re over here giving little kids tattoos.”

I chuckled. “Nah, mostly it’s the heathens from New Haven county. Which we should all be grateful for because they keep me in business, our taxes paid, and these potholes filled. What’s the deal with that, anyway? Seems like the roads here are worse than ever.”

“Budget issues,” Poppy said. “We just had a big ol’ debate at the last town meeting about whether to fill those holes or replace the broken slide at the elementary school. Guess which won?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” Kinsley said. “It’s neither. Matthews and David Mosconi have a special renovation project.”

I sipped my coffee. “Why you gotta say his name like that? I remember him. And those caterpillar eyebrows.”

“Do you remember how much you used to crush on him?” She giggled. “It was always David this, David that. Grannie and I had money on when you two would get together.”

“It wasn’t like that. We were just friends.”

She scoffed. “Friends who went to concerts together. You even asked him to prom.”

“Don’t remind me,” I groaned. He’d turned me down. I changed the subject. “Poppy, did you change the music again?” I already knew the answer. I’d turned on a Foo Fighters mix before I went up front, but an old doowop song played through the speakers. “I know this is your building,” I said, “but you said the shop was mine.”

Kinsley looked from me to Poppy, an amused smile on her lips.

“This is the kitchen,” he said without looking up from his newspaper.

He was eighty-three, and he’d spent the length of my thirty-four years playing country, doowop, and soul with a band. He thought my music was just a bunch of noise, and I thought his music was old.

Thankfully my best friend and business partner thundered down the stairs before my grandfather and I could get into our clashing tastes in music.

“Ready,” Sabella announced, wincing as she spotted Poppy. “Sorry for the noise.” She bent to tighten the strap of her boot.

He waved a hand at her. “If you think that’s noise, you should’ve been around when they dug the lake.”

Kinsley and I glanced at each other, sharing a smile. We both knew that story by heart.

“When they dug the lake?” Sabella asked. “You mean Stagwood Lake isn’t natural?”

“Oh, no,” he said, putting down his paper and facing his rapt audience. Discreetly, I glanced at the time. “They dug it when I was a boy. They paid me one dollar for every body I moved.”

“One dollar for every . . .body?” Sabella repeated.

Poppy nodded. “Oh yeah. They flooded it out.”

“They killed people?” She gaped at him.

We’d been in town for barely three weeks, and Poppy hadn’t wasted any time in catching Sabella up on old family stories. I loved how Poppy immediately treated her the same way he did Kinsley and me. When Sabella moved to town with me, only Kinsley had met her in person, but she fit right into our little family.

“Time to go to work.” I grabbed my Thermos and looped my arm through one of hers, tugging her to the front of the building where my tattoo shop waited.

“Mean boss,” Sabella teased. “I wanna hear the rest of the story.”

“I could tell it to you from memory.” I unlocked the front door, flipped the sign to open, and went into the room I’d converted into my station to set up.

In the front room that served as our lobby, Sabella tapped the iPad, bringing up the app that tracked our appointments. “What are you doing for your ten o’clock?”

I looked up from the inks I was squirting into tiny caps. “David? I’m not sure. I think it’s just a consult. I think you might’ve scheduled him.”

I wondered what he sounded like. I remembered his voice as less of a sound and more of a feeling, sweet and warm.

“I think,” she said, “that was the guy who didn’t sound too sure, himself. First he said maybe a tattoo for his mom.”

“His mom? She’s still alive, as far as I know.” I hoped so. Both of us lost more in high school than any kid ever should.

“Well, you’ve got a pretty open day,” she said, “so you’ve got plenty of time.”

I was gonna need something a lot stronger than coffee.

I hadn’t seen him in a good decade. I’d deactivated my Facebook ages ago, so I probably couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup. From what Poppy said, he’d taken a position as the new city planner. I had to Google what that meant. Basically, he was the one to talk to if our little town was ever going to get a Starbucks.

A girl needed some Pink Drink now and then, even if it was straight sugar.

Right on cue, the bells attached to the front door cheerily announced his arrival.

I hurried out to meet him in the front room before Sabella could get to him, skidding to a halt when I saw him.

The short kid I’d crushed on for his personality and love of the Foo Fighters was gone. In his place stood a tall man with melted chocolate eyes. The only thing that hadn’t changed were those caterpillar eyebrows.

“Hey, Goldie.” He stood tall in his tailored suit, his eyes appreciatively taking in the shop until they settled on me. “The place looks great. So do you.” I watched his full lips, mesmerized by the way they hugged every word. Kind of like how his suit clung to muscles that definitely hadn’t been there when we graduated.

I rocked back on my heels, feeling hot under his gaze. No way could I keep it professional, not with the way he shrugged out of his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, exposing long arms full of muscle and a completely blank canvas.

“Thank you,” I stammered a full minute later.

“Smooth,” Sabella commented from her spot at the front desk, low enough that only I could hear. I hoped.

David smiled at me, his lips parting to expose straight white teeth, all while never breaking eye contact.

I felt practically naked, standing there in my black crop top and biker shorts. Clearing my throat, I switched to professional mode. I needed to get through his appointment without staring at him like a piece of meat. I knew most men changed drastically between high school and adulthood, but damn, what a glow up. He’d gone from cute in a kinda goofy way to full-on GQ hottie.

I hoped his personality had flourished in the same way.

“So hi,” he said again, this time holding his arms open.

I stepped into him, meaning to keep the hug quick. The second his arms closed around me, though, my body melted into his.

“How’ve you been?” he asked, his voice a gentle murmur in my ear. “You look incredible.”

“You smell incredible,” I blurted, his cologne still in my nostrils even as I stepped back. “What’re you wearing?”

“I showered,” he said with a shrug. “This place is beautiful.” He did a loop around the lobby, admiring the walls I’d painted a lush forest green, the gold skulls on the shelves popping nicely against it. Even the sofa I’d thrifted in the city had gold hardware. “You built this.” His eyes shimmered with pride.

I waved him off, but beamed with pride. It’d taken literal sweat, blood, and tears, with a dash of tattoo ink. There were days I’d felt so overwhelmed, I didn’t want to get out of bed, but standing in that lobby, I was glad I’d shoved myself out of my comfort zone time and time again.

“How about you? Mr. City Planner.” I gave him a gentle shove. “I had to Google that. You gonna get me a Starbucks here, or at least a Target?”

He chuckled. “You know how slowly the wheel turns here.”

“And how. Your boy Matthews made me jump through hoops to get this place approved. Do you know he made me write an essay? An essay!” I laughed, but I was still annoyed, weeks and weeks later.

“An essay? About what?”

“About how this heathenous tattoo shop is going to bring in tourism. I basically told him that all the New Haven people who come in here will like it so much, they’ll never want to leave.” I cackled. “I also reminded him that we’re paid up on our taxes now, and I have all the necessary licenses and permits. Gregory Allen Matthews the third. Can’t forget those Roman numerals. Can you believe that kid became our mayor? The one who insisted instead of having our prom at the Gardner barn, like every class since the dawn of time, we just had to have it at Forcella’s inn. Which is beautiful,” I conceded, “but—”

“No room for dancing,” we both said, laughing.

Sabella made a face. “No dancing? What kind of prom is that?”

“The kind that haunts Matthews wherever he goes,” I said. “What’s he like as mayor? As your boss?” I asked David.

“He’s all right,” he evaded.

“Just all right? No tea to spill for your girl, huh? Well, in due time,” I teased. “So what’re we doing today?” I motioned for him to follow me back. I might’ve been imagining it, but I swore I felt his eyes on my ass.

“I was thinking I’d get a memorial portrait of my dad,” he said as we settled into my station.

I nodded, my heart squeezing for him. I’d lost my parents and he’d lost his dad right around the same time. Two sides of the same coin—my parents were killed by a drunk driver, and his dad died from a bad liver.

I hated to tell him I wasn’t a portrait artist. Nailing someone’s likeness was its own niche, one I’d never mastered. “That would be lovely. It’s more Sabella’s vein, though, so let me grab her real quick.”

“I’ll just get something else,” he said quickly. He rubbed at his chiseled chin, his fingers scraping over stubble. When I’d left Stagwood Falls, he’d barely had facial hair.

I swallowed.

“Maybe I’ll get a cat,” David said.

“From the shelter?”

“No, a tattoo. Can you do a cat?”

“That I can do,” I said. “Do you want one like your dad’s? Whatever happened to that little guy, anyway?” I turned to my desk with its lightboard, already grabbing a pencil.

“He lived to fifteen. Can you believe that? It really does look great in here,” David said. “I remember taking guitar lessons in this room, I think.”

“Good memory. I always thought this room had the best natural light and was kind of wasted as a studio.” Like the lobby, I’d decorated it in deep green and gold. Just a few weeks earlier, it’d still rocked the dark red paint of my grandfather’s guitar shop.

Touch of Gold was just another incarnation of the little shop and apartment that had been in my family for generations.

I was about to ask him if he had a picture of his dad’s cat on him when he stood from his seat, pacing the room.

“I’m sure you’ve heard, I’m the city planner now,” he said.

“That’s cool. Not gonna lie, I’m still not really sure what that is,” I admitted.

“Most of the time, it’s glorified babysitting. I don’t usually get to plan much, but now Mayor Matthews and I are working on a big project,” he said.

“Kinsley mentioned something about it.” I set down my pencil. “What are y’all doing?”

“Yeah, so, basically tourism is our town’s main income, but it’s only seasonal, right? So it’s always a struggle.”

I nodded. So far, the only clients I had were the ones willing to make the hour drive from my old spot in the city. They were enough to keep us afloat, and not much else. I knew it’d take some time to rebuild my clientele, especially in a small lake town that was already gasping for air. The people here didn’t exactly have the kind of disposable income it took to get a tattoo, and there weren’t a whole lot of young people, either.

“My plan is to bring some new blood into the town,” David said.

“That sounds like music to my ears,” I said. “Half the block is empty. That little record store we used to hang out at is closed.” I shook my head.

“Phoenix Records,” he said mournfully. “That guy had the best recommendations. Spotify ain’t got nothing on him.”

“Hey, maybe you should get a Foo Fighters tattoo. Like mine.” I tugged up the hem of my biker shorts to show him the double Fs I got the second I turned eighteen.

“Nice,” he purred, his eyes trailing up my thigh.

“This is the first tattoo I ever did.”

“You did that on yourself?” He whistled.

“Hurt like a bitch, and looked even worse. Thankfully, I got better and cleaned it up. I could give you a matching one, here,” I said, touching his forearm.

He looked down at where my fingers brushed his skin, then directly at me. He towered at least a foot above me, but in that moment we were eye to eye. Combined with the heat that flared where we touched, and I knew I hadn’t imagined his eyes on my ass.

“I’m real sorry I didn’t take you to prom,” he murmured, his gaze hazy.

“Why didn’t you? We’d be married with like, three kids by now,” I joked.

“Probably more like five,” he said, and with the heated way he watched his words hit me, it didn’t feel like a joke at all.

I licked my lips. This was the part where he asked me out, or at least slid into my DMs. I hadn’t planned on getting into anything with anyone in town. My family and the shop were my priorities. But he caught my hand in his, and every atom in me hopped around the way I danced at a Foo Fighters concert.

There was only one thing standing in my way.

“You’re not, like, married or anything, right?” I said it with a laugh, but inside I was dying.

“Currently single,” he said.

I squeezed his hand. “Not for long.”

Everything Goldie touches turns to gold, so when the building that’s been in her family for generations is in trouble, her family calls on her to help save it. Moving back to her hometown and back in with her family comes with definite perks—like no more rent—and emotional baggage in the form of Goldie’s high school crush turned hottie David. When she sees him again, all those old feelings come rushing back—and are quickly dampened when she finds out he wants to tear down her building to build a “better” Main Street.

For as long as David can remember, Stagwood Falls has been a small-town summer vacation hotspot. It’s the kind of town that will charm the socks off of anyone who decides to drive through no matter the season, and it’s his job to make sure Stagwood Falls stands out on the map all year around. All he needs to do is convince the townspeople to get on board, even if it means making some sacrifices. When Goldie returns to Stagwood Falls, David is immediately drawn to her just as he was back in high school. This time around, he’ll do whatever it takes to get her attention. What David doesn’t expect is for Goldie to be so opposed to his new revitalization strategy that she’s hellbent on throwing a massive wrench in his plan.

A Touch of Gold
Stagwood Falls: Love in Ink Series
Book 1
Kobo Originals

Photo via Depositphotos