by Roni Loren
He lifted his palms to her and backed away. “Someone get the doc some roast beef, stat.”
She laughed as three different waiters stepped forward with trays of food. Lane got her a plate and piled it high, and then her co-workers descended on her, chatting, wishing her happy early birthday, and asking her about her mom.
The attention was overwhelming at first, but soon she fell into a rhythm that had become more and more familiar over the last few months, being part of a group, of a team…of a couple. She even caught herself laughing. Relaxing.
After she’d finished her food, Lane slid his hands onto her shoulders and leaned next to her ear. “I have fed you. Now we have reached the most vital part of the evening. It is time…to line dance.”
She turned her head and gave him a you-must-be-on-hallucinogenics look.
“We reserved the place on country-western line dance night,” he explained. “So we’re obligated to do this. There has been line dancing on this night of the week here for ten years. It’s bad luck to break tradition.”
She smirked. “Bad luck? I am a dignified doctor of medicine. I do not line dance.”
“You do now. Thems the rules, doc.” He plunked a shot of something amber-colored in front of her. “Drink up, birthday girl, and let’s fulfill our duty.”
Elle groaned. “You’re serious.”
“I do not kid about serious matters such as these.”
She gave him a look but tipped the shot back, hoping the liquid courage kicked in quick because this kind of dancing was going to require an altered state of consciousness. Her co-workers cheered her on, and Lane tugged her up from her spot.
A few of the others joined them on the dance floor and Marin pulled Donovan out there, her shiny new wedding ring glinting in the lights. Donovan sent Elle an S.O.S. look and mouthed help.
She laughed. “You’re own your own, buddy. I’ve got my own problems.”
Marin grinned her way, and it hit Elle how much had changed. She could joke with Donovan and Marin now. Their relationship had no pull on her anymore, no bitterness. And Marin had graciously given her a second chance after her bad behavior last year. The three of them had managed to forge good working relationships. But slowly, unexpectedly, they were also becoming her friends.
Lane spun her into position, looking way too pleased with himself. He waggled his eyebrows. “Know how to do this, doc?”
“Not even a little bit. You’re doomed.”
The music started before she was ready. She’d never be ready. But the beat wasn’t going to wait. “Louisiana Saturday Night” thumped from the jukebox. Or Loo-zee-anna, as the song declared. Everyone kicked off their shoes.
Elle groaned and slipped off her flats.
Lane took her hand and stood at her side. “Let’s do this, doc.”
The group started a long, weaving grapevine step. Elle tried to follow their lead but was looking at her feet and knocked into Oriana, who looked about as skilled at line dancing as she was. Ori laughed and put her hand on Elle’s shoulder to keep from falling.
“I’d like to blame this on drinking,” Ori said. “But I’m sober as hell. Can’t we do ‘Strokin’ instead? I know that one.”
The whole group spun and she and Ori ended up facing the wrong way. Lane didn’t miss a step and looked as if he were just a pair of boots and a Stetson shy of being able to rope cattle. Elle found that oddly hot. She sidled up next to him again, trying to follow the steps through the end of the song, but she stomped on his feet three times. She was near tears with laughing by the end.
“I’m literally the worst line dancer ever.”
“You are,” Lane agreed with a grin. “You had to be bad at something.”
When the song was over, she bumped him in the shoulder. “So where’d you learn your moves, cowboy?”
He laughed and tugged her to him, pulling her into some kind of two-step as a slower song came on. That was a little easier to follow. He bent his head close to her ear. “The agency I worked for in a previous life made us take lessons. Southern ladies like men who can dance.”
“I’m scared to ask what other kind of lessons they gave you,” she teased.
He got a wicked gleam in his eye and led her into a spin. “I didn’t need those kinds of lessons. That just comes naturally.”
He pulled her tight to him and a wash of heat went through her, mixing with the lingering warmth from the alcohol. Suddenly, she wished there weren’t so many people around. “So how long do you think this party will go?”
“Already scheming how to get me alone, doc?” he asked, his hand sliding to her lower back.
“You have no idea,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. “In my head, you’re already naked. With cowboy boots.”
His eyes twinkled in the lights and he dipped his head low to kiss her. “That can be arranged. And don’t worry. Dessert’s not too far away, I promise.”
Lane sat, watching Elle give Raymond a quick hug good-bye and then thanking everyone for coming. He smiled at the sight. She was sparkling like the champagne they’d toasted with. Eyes alight, blond hair tousled, and her cheeks flushed from alcohol and a good party.
He hadn’t been sure how Elle would react to the surprise get-together and had developed a back-up plan, but he’d wanted to give her the opportunity to see what her friends and co-workers had wanted to do for her. He was glad he hadn’t shut it down before it happened. Elle had handled everything with grace. Not just grace but she looked…happy. Happy in a way that sent sunshine sneaking into the final worried corners inside him.
He waited until she’d said good-bye to the last guest and then grabbed the large white box from behind the bar. The manager gave him a nod and then slipped into the office, affording them some privacy.
Elle walked back into the main dining room, her eyes finding him in the low lighting at the corner of the dance floor. Her soft smile at seeing him sent Lane’s heartbeat speeding up. He never got over how goddamned lucky he was to have Elle in his life. She saw him. Loved him. Every part of his life, of his past, his struggles and triumphs, and she embraced it all. He could joke with her on the dance floor about lessons he’d had to take when he’d been an escort and not have to worry about feeling judgment or pity from her. He could take her home and tie her to the bed and teasingly insult her and she only got hotter for it. They were oddly shaped puzzle pieces that, by some miracle, had found their match. He would never take that for granted.
“Hey, you,” she said, crossing the dark dance floor. “Ready to get out of here? I think we’ve shut the place down.”
He reached out and took her hand, pulling her down to the chair next to him. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”
She glanced at the empty bar. “Well, I don’t think the manager would appreciate us doing dessert here in the restaurant.”
He smirked and tapped the box on the table. “Actual dessert, horny lady.”
She turned her head, noticing the box for the first time. She pressed her hands together with delight. “Ooh. You saved the cake all for us? Good plan.”
“Open it.”
She reached over and lifted the lid. He watched her face instead of the box. Her eyes widened and then a laugh tumbled out of her. “Pepto pink!”
“Of course.” Lane nodded. “For your pretty, pretty princess birthday party. I even got little tiaras added to them.”
She smiled wide. “I love them. They’re perfect.” She leaned closer and poked at one of plastic tiaras. “But there are only eleven.” She sent him a playful glare. “Did you already eat one again, Cannon? Show me those teeth.”
He wet his lips and reached beneath his chair, grabbing the small white box beneath. He held it out to her. “No, there’s a special one for the birthday girl. One that won’t turn her teeth pink.”
A wrinkle appeared between her brows. He took a breath and opened the box.
She blinked a few times, her gaze zeroing in on the cupcake inside, one made of b
lown glass he’d commissioned from a local artist.
Elle sucked in a breath and lifted the sculpture out of the box. “Lane, this is gorgeous.”
“You’re gorgeous,” he said softly.
“Ooh, it opens.” She glanced up at him and then slowly lifted off the top. He could see the moment she realized what was inside. Her eyes widened and her lips parted.
He couldn’t see what she was seeing but he knew exactly what was there. A delicate vintage gold ring with diamonds in the shape of a flower, and all of his promises for the future weaved into it.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered. “You said you sold this back months ago.”
Lane didn’t answer. He could’ve never sold that ring back. He’d seen how much she loved it. She’d told him it was what she would’ve picked out for herself. In his mind, it’d always belonged to her. He scooted his chair back and lowered himself to his knee.
Her stunned gaze darted to his.
He couldn’t read if her expression was surprise, fear, or horror, but he had to get the words out. “Elle McCray, I know you swore you’d never get married again, so I’m not going to ask you. But I love you, and I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone but you. So if you ever decide you’re willing to walk down the aisle again, know that I’d love nothing more than to be the one doing it with you. But if marriage isn’t for you, let this ring symbolize what I want to give you.”
Her blue eyes went shiny and she gave him a tremulous smile. “And what’s that?”
“Everything. Forever.”
Elle set the sculpture aside and held the ring between her fingers, a tear slipping down her cheek as she stared down at it.
“Forever is a long time,” she said softly.
He swallowed hard, feeling more vulnerable than he’d expected. “Yeah.”
She lifted her gaze, her smile steadying, beaming, and slid down to the floor with him. “I have a feeling it’s not going to be long enough with you.”
All the breath whooshed out of him.
She took his hand and pressed the ring into his palm. “Ask me.”
Every tense muscle in his body loosened, happiness suffusing through him and spreading wide. He took the ring and held it between them. “Doc, will you marry me?”
She reached out and cupped his cheek. “I would do it tomorrow.”
He’d never heard sweeter words in his life. His hand trembled as he slid the ring onto her finger and then he brought her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a kiss there. “Me too.”
“You mean that?” she asked, her brows lifting.
“Of course I do.”
She peered down at the ring, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Then, why don’t we?”
He leaned back to get a better look at her, to see if she was kidding. “Like blow this joint and go to Vegas?”
“No one says we can’t.” She looped her arms around his neck, a wicked grin lifting her lips. “I’ve done the fancy wedding. It’s overrated. Too many people. Too much drama. All I want is you. And I can think of no better way to celebrate my birthday than by making it official.”
Something unlocked inside his chest, something he didn’t even know had rusted shut. He knew Elle loved him. He knew they were right together whether there was a court document or not. But he didn’t realize until that moment how badly he wanted her as his wife. How much he wanted her to take that risk on him. He leaned forward and kissed her long and thoroughly, letting the happiness sink into his bones and linger. He pulled back and smiled. “Let’s do it.”
“Yeah?” She laughed when he nodded. “This is insane.”
He got up and pulled her to her feet. “Well, we haven’t gone about this the normal way the whole time. Why start now?”
“Good point,” she said, bouncing on the balls of her feet with giddy excitement. “Come on. Let’s go home and pack. Or maybe make out first. And eat a cupcake. And then pack.”
“Excellent plan.” He grabbed the box of cupcakes and the sculpture.
Elle picked up a steak knife from a set of silverware on the table.
He glanced at the weapon in her hand. “What are you doing? Is this the part where you confess you’re a murderer?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, but there’s something I need to do.” She cocked her head toward the door. “Go donate a few of those cupcakes to the manager and stall him for a few minutes. I’ll meet you outside in fifteen?”
He eyed her. “What are you up to?”
She shrugged. “Just need to take care of a little something.”
He decided not to question her further and headed toward the bar to offer the dessert. The manager was more than happy to chat things up, but when Lane stuck his head out the door a few minutes later to check on Elle, she was crouched over one of the tables, the knife to the wood and a look of concentration on her face.
Lane stalled for a few more minutes and then headed out when he saw Elle was no longer out there. He walked to the table where Elle had been and looked at the fresh wood shavings scattered across the top.
A worn inscription was there, the edges smooth with time. D + R = 4Ever
But right beneath were freshly carved initials in the center of a crude heart. L + E
Not forever. Not always. Just their two initials linked without a time attached.
And that was exactly how it felt when they got on a plane that night to begin their future.
Together.
In love.
Limitless.
Thank you!
Thanks so much for reading By the Hour! I hope you enjoyed reading Lane and Elle’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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Hope to see you around online! Now read on for a sneak peek of the first book in a brand new series, The Ones Who Got Away, and an excerpt of Off the Clock if you missed where the Pleasure Principle series started!
The Ones Who Got Away
Coming January 2018
CHAPTER 1
Nothing can save you. Liv Arias rubbed goose bumps from her arms as she read the words scrawled on the sign taped under a maniacal-looking wasp painted on the wall of the gym. Nothing can save you from the sting! More hand-drawn posters hung crookedly around the ridiculous mascot, bubbly cheerleader handwriting declaring that the Millbourne Yellow Jackets were going to take down the Creekside Tigers. Some smartass had drawn a tiger with a swollen face and an Epi-pen with an X through it.
Nothing can save you. The level of artistic skill on the cartoon should’ve made Liv smile. Back when she was in high school, she would’ve never been the one making school spirit signs, but she would’ve appreciated the art and the sarcasm. Today, she couldn’t find enthusiasm for either. Because it all felt off. The new name for the school. The weird, too smiley mascot. Her, being there.
This wasn’t the gym where it had happened. That building had been knocked down within months of the tragedy. Spilled blood covered with dirt. A memorial courtyard was in its place now on the other side of the school. She’d taken the long way around and had avoided walking past it on her way in, afraid it would trigger all the stuff she’d fought so hard to lock down. Even after twelve years, she couldn’t bear to look at a list of names that should’ve been in a graduation program instead of etched onto a memorial. People she’d sat next to in class. People she’d bee
n friends with. People she’d thought she hated until they were gone and she’d realized how silly and superficial high-school hate was. Now they were just names on stone, memories painted on the walls of her brain, holes in people’s hearts.
“You said you weren’t in the gym when the first gunman came in.”
The interviewer’s calm voice jarred Liv out of her thoughts, and she blinked in the bright camera-ready lights. They’d been talking about the tragedy as a whole, but hadn’t gotten into the details of the night yet. “What?”
Daniel Morrow, the filmmaker putting the documentary together, gave her an encouraging nod, making his too-stylish hair flop across his forehead. “You weren’t in the gym…”
Liv swallowed past the rubber-band tightness in her throat. Maybe she’d overestimated her ability to handle this. She’d agreed to it because the proceeds were going both to the families of the victims and to research that could help prevent things like this from happening. How could she say no to that and not look heartless? But in that moment, she wished she’d declined. Old fear was creeping up the back of her neck, invading like a thousand spiders, the sounds and memories from that night threatening to overtake her. She closed her eyes for a second, focused on her breathing.
She wasn't that scared girl anymore. She would not be.
“Do you need to take a break, Ms. Arias?” Daniel asked, his voice echoing in the dark, empty gym.
She shook her head, the lights feeling too hot on her skin. No breaks. She needed to get this over with. If she took a break, she wouldn’t come back. She opened her eyes and straightened her spine, rallying up her reserve of calm, that place where she went and pretended she was talking about things that happened to someone else, to people she didn’t know, at a school she’d never heard of. “No, I wasn’t in the gym. I’d gone into the hallway to get some air.”
Not entirely true. She’d left the prom to sneak into a janitor’s closet with Finn Dorsey. But she and Finn had never told that part of the story because he’d been there with a “proper” date, and he would’ve never wanted his parents or anyone else to know he was sneaking off with someone like Olivia Arias. She’d first dragged him into the closet to fight with him, to let him know how she felt about being passed over for his student council president date. But fighting had only stoked the fire that had burned between them back then. Young, misguided, completely inconvenient lust. They’d been rounding second base when they'd heard the first shots fired.