by Kelly Myers
Tears glisten and she nods, raven waves bobbing against her shoulders. “Yes,” she says and falls into my arms. The champagne glass tilts and golden drops splash. We laugh and then she pulls back and we clink glasses. She gulps it down, reaches in and plucks the diamond ring out.
I hold my palm out. “May I?” She gives the ring back and I lick the excess champagne off the platinum band.
Easton extends her left hand and I slide the diamond and emerald ring up her slim finger.
“It’s so beautiful, Jax,” she says, admiring it. “I love it. And, I love you,” she says.
“Love you more,” I say and capture her mouth in a long, slow kiss.
Epilogue
Easton
Jax and I are engaged.
My heart has never been more light, more full of love. He’s the family I’ve always been missing. The home I always wanted. The empty space in my heart that I could never seem to fill.
I couldn’t be more grateful.
No matter how dark it can be at times, Hollywood lives for a good love story. Especially one that involves a reformed bad boy and a Golden Girl. The media has dubbed us “Jaxston” and it makes me laugh. Jax isn’t completely comfortable with all the attention yet, but he’s getting better.
No one seems too surprised by our whirlwind courtship and engagement. Except maybe Griff and Ryker. They still can’t seem to wrap their head around the fact that their best friend is getting married and, despite all their teasing, I know they support us.
Today, we hang out at the Platinum Security office. Jax and Griff go over a new case while I peruse through wedding magazines. I know they’re worried about Ryker who they say is having one of his “episodes.” Jax confided a little about what he knows regarding Ryker’s past and my heart breaks for him. Anyone who served their country so heroically and went through so much loss shouldn’t be drowning in PTSD, all alone.
I really hope and pray that someone will come along and help lift Ryker out of his self-imposed hell. She will have to be a very special and patient woman, I think, a true savior, because our poor Ryker is a hot mess and will probably do everything in his power to push her away.
I shake my head and flip another page in the glossy magazine. The dresses are beautiful, the flowers are splendid and the locations are exotic.
Despite all that, I decide I want to keep things simple. I’m done with entourages and phony people I barely know. When I marry Jax, it will be the most special day of my life and I only want our closest friends there. I have a feeling he expects that I’m planning the Superbowl of weddings, so I look forward to telling him later that he doesn’t have to worry about a media frenzy with circling helicopters as we try to hear each other recite our vows in front of a thousand people.
Jax is straightforward, uncomplicated and lowkey when it comes to most things, and he avoids the spotlight and all its glamour like the plague. I think he will appreciate my decision. The nice thing is, I know that whatever I want, he will bend over backwards to make it happen. Whether it's a grand ceremony, courthouse vows in front of a judge or an elopement, Jax only wants me to be happy and I feel the same way about him.
Concerning the honeymoon, though, I’m thinking we should splurge a bit.
I look up and watch my very handsome fiancé talk about the best way to track down and capture some criminal on the run with a large bounty on his head. Sometimes I get nervous when he takes on a dangerous case, but with Griff and Ryker by his side, the three of them make a formidable team. I remind myself that it’s the criminal who should be worried.
“You still interested in bringing a hacker-” Griff stops, glances at me and begins again. “I mean a computer specialist onboard?”
“Definitely,” Jax says. “You got somebody in mind?”
“Yeah, maybe. I just heard from an old CIA contact. Never met him, but sounds like he’s looking for some work. Handle is ShadowWalker. That’s about all I can tell you. Other than the fact that he was a huge asset when I needed to track information down, the guy’s a ghost.”
“How do you know it’s a guy?” I ask with a little smile.
“Huh,” Griff says and shoves a hand through his perfectly-mussed hair. “Guess you got a point there.”
“It could very well be a woman and, all this time, you had no idea.”
He shrugs. “I suppose I could’ve been communicating with an amazingly beautiful woman, but I have a feeling it was more like a 20-year old dude living in his parents’ basement.”
We laugh and I wander over and sit on the edge of Jax’s desk, moving up beside him. He slides an arm around my waist and looks up at me with warm, brown eyes. “So, I’ve been thinking about our honeymoon,” I say.
Those brown eyes instantly heat up. “Yeah?”
The husky tone in his voice makes my toes curl. I nod and press my red lips together. “Are you thinking more tropical or Old World European?”
Jax lifts my hand and places a kiss on its back. “As long as there's a king-sized bed, I don’t mind where we go, Princess.”
“Good God,” Griff grumbles, his bright blue eyes rolling up toward the ceiling. “I can’t decide if you two are going to give me a cavity or make me puke.”
Jax and I exchange smiles.
“Wait’ll it happens to you, Griff,” Jax says and pulls me down onto his lap. He nuzzles his face into my hair and I giggle.
Griff studies us for a wary moment then shakes his dark head. “Nothing is going to happen to me,” he assures us. “I am completely immune to women’s charms. They’re just not immune to mine,” he adds with a roguish grin.
“Because you’re just too pretty,” Jax teases him.
“Whatever, Jaxston,” he throws back and gives a derisive, half-snort.
I laugh, wrap my arms around Jax’s neck and place a kiss on his lips. When he tilts his head up and deepens the kiss, butterflies take flight in my stomach.
I am the luckiest woman in the world.
Public displays of affection, I cringe to admit, have kind of become a thing lately. We just can’t keep our hands and mouths off each other.
“Excuse me?” a feminine voice interrupts.
All three of us look toward the doorway of Jax’s office where a gorgeous woman with dark reddish-gold hair stands. She gives a nervous, dimpled smile. “Hi, I need to speak with someone about a possible case.”
“Sure,” Jax says, hand massaging my knee. We must look so professional, I think with a little smile.
She turns her attention toward me briefly and I see the flash of recognition flit through her brown eyes. She quickly lowers thick lashes and finally seems to notice Griff who hasn’t moved a muscle since she appeared. For once in his life, it seems like Griff is at a loss for words.
They look at each other for a moment too long and I can feel the interest in the air between them.
Hmm, I think. This could be interesting.
“What exactly do you need help with?” Jax asks.
“I need help finding something. And, possibly someone. I don’t suppose there’s anyone here who’s particularly good at locating lost items?” she asks.
Griff stands up. “I am,” he says in a gruff voice and extends a hand. “Griffin Lawson.”
She smiles, but I can see the wariness on her face. Smart girl. Any woman interested in Griffin Lawson needs to be careful. He’s a heartbreaker, for sure.
“I’m Lexi Ryder,” she says.
“Griff’s the best locator you’ll find,” Jax says.
“Can you help me?” she asks Griff, turning her big brown eyes on him.
I think I see him gulp.
“Let’s talk in my office,” he says and motions for her to go ahead of him.
Jax and I watch them cross the hall and then we exchange a knowing look.
“He doesn’t stand a chance,” Jax says and I laugh softly against his neck.
Then, I place my hands on his very dear, dark bristled face. “When we met...neither
did I,” I admit.
“I love you,” he says, dark eyes glowing.
“Love you more, Jaxon Wilder.”
When our lips meet, I again thank God for bringing this Fallen Angel into my life.
Excerpt: My Secret Daddy
He is everything I ever wanted.
But I can never have him.
It was just one night with William Hart.
He took my virginity, but I knew that had to be the end.
I’m too young for him.
And he’s too set in his bachelor ways.
I’m a shy country girl.
William is a powerful lawyer with an extravagant city life.
We could never work.
That doesn’t mean I don’t still want him though.
He may be old enough to be my father,
But that only makes me long for his touch.
One mistake leads to another.
And when I find out I’m pregnant,
I know I’m in trouble...
Olivia
I leaned back on my heels and surveyed the neat row of sugar snap peas behind me.
I had been weeding all morning. The sun was high in the sky, but I had barely noticed the time passing. I never did when I was out in the fields, elbow-deep in the rich soil of the organic farm in Connecticut.
I stood up and stretched, my tan arms cracking with relief. Then I dusted off some dirt on the legs of my jeans and turned back toward the barns. I needed lunch.
When I entered the canteen, only Bridget was around.
“Hiya, Liv,” she said.
Bridget was one of very few people in the world who called me by a nickname. I’d always been Olivia to my mom and my half-brother. I didn’t really remember what my dad called me since I didn’t see him very often before he died. But he wasn’t the type to use nicknames. I did remember that.
Bridget smiled as I grabbed my sandwich from the fridge and sat down at the wooden picnic table across from her. I never gave her express permission to use a nickname, Bridget was just that type of person to give everyone a nickname. She was already well into her forties when she started the organic farm a few years ago, and she’d lived a fast-paced life filled with adventures and travels before she got the idea to buy a plot of land and start producing high-quality fruits, vegetables, butter and other products.
“Hey, Bridget,” I said. “The sugar snaps are gorgeous.”
“It’s been a good summer,” Bridget said.
I settled down and dug into the lunch I had brought from home. I rented a small place just a few miles down the road from the farm. It was cheap this far out in the country, and I enjoyed the quiet.
Bridget cast an appraising eye over me.
“You get up to anything last weekend?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said. “Just stayed in and did laundry, that kind of thing.”
Bridget raised her eyebrows. It killed her that I was twenty-two, supposedly in the prime of my life, and I spent all my time farming and doing home crafts.
She didn’t understand that I wasn’t like her. I didn’t crave a spontaneous life or wild adventures. I liked to be in the peace and quiet of my own home.
Alright, I supposed I craved some wild nights. Who didn’t?
They just always seemed like more trouble than they were worth.
“I’ll need you to go into the city this week to meet with some of the restaurants,” Bridget said.
I looked up in surprise. Bridget knew that I didn’t love going into New York. The bustle and noise of the city overwhelmed me, and the restaurant managers were always yapping about how much produce they needed without the slightest understanding of how farming actually worked.
“I know, babe, but I’ve got to go meet with my manure guy,” Bridget said. “You’ll be fine. Danny at Giovanni’s says he likes you, and you always get the orders right.”
“Ok, should I catch the train down tomorrow?” I asked. “I can ask my friend if I can crash.”
“Perfect,” Bridget said.
She stood up and plopped her blue baseball cap over her messy blonde braid.
“And who knows, if you and Danny hit it off again, maybe he’ll show you around town,” Bridget said with a wink.
I let out a weak laugh and looked back down at my sandwich. That was the thing about working on a farm with only a handful of colleagues and a hippie boss. All semblance of professionalism went right out the window.
It wasn’t that I was shy; it was just that Bridget’s jokes and ribbing constantly made me wonder what I was missing out on.
Was I supposed to be able to get a guy to ask me out to dinner with just a coy smile and a wink? Was there something wrong with me if the thought of walking into a bar and getting some rich corporate guy to buy me a cocktail made me break out in hives?
It wasn’t that I was shy. When I was around people I knew well, I could be comfortable and talk a lot. I just found meeting new people overwhelming. And when it came to men, I was hopeless. It was as if I had missed some critical class on how to date.
I watched Bridget stroll out toward the fields with her long-legged and confident stride. Somehow she found dates even at her age and out in the country.
I wondered what Bridget would say if she ever found out I was a virgin. She would probably command me to grab the closest farmer and find a hay loft. Bridget was all about sexual freedom, and she was always gabbing with the other girls about birth control and new-age sex therapists.
I could never join in. Whenever the conversation turned in that direction, I would suddenly remember a patch of vegetables that needed immediate weeding.
I still liked working on the farm though. After graduating college, my half-brother Richard told me I should get a reasonable and respectable job with a salary and a 401k. I had looked for that kind of thing, but when I saw the job posting to work at the farm in Connecticut, I was intrigued.
Richard had scoffed, and my mom had told me it seemed a little strange, but she was at least glad that I would only be a thirty-minute drive away.
I was a year into the job and I knew I had made the right choice. The farm was interesting, and there was never a dull day. I enjoyed being outdoors, and I liked feeling exhausted at the end of the day.
I finished my sandwich and sighed. Bri had mentioned needing help with the chicken coop today. I much preferred planting to dealing with the livestock, but I had done enough for the sugar snap peas today.
I stood up and adjusted my ponytail. When I first started at the farm, I thought the time outdoors in the sun might bleach my hair a lighter brown or at least give me highlights. Instead, my hair had insisted on remaining so dark it was almost black. My skin, however, had gotten quite tan, even though I wore sunscreen.
I strode out of the barn and crossed the fields toward where we kept the chickens. I could see Bri in the distance, the toolbox by her side. She was the go-to person when it came to repairs.
Even though it was still early August, I was already mourning the end of the summer. The autumn would stay busy, but then activity at the farm would drop off for the winter. We still had to tend to the animals and sell a few products and make connections with the restaurant, but there was much more free time.
Last winter, Bridget had dropped many hints about how winter was a good time to “put myself out there”. This winter, I had a feeling she was going to do more than hint.
The solution was obvious. If I wanted to avoid Bridget’s not-so-subtle matchmaking, I was going to have to take action. I needed to at least try dating. Make friends.
Maybe even lose my virginity.
My stomach clenched at the thought.
I couldn’t quite explain why it had become such an issue for me.
My mother was religious, and she had raised me Christian, but I had never taken a vow of purity or decided to save myself for marriage. I saw nothing wrong with that, and I respected the women who did.
My question had always been: wh
y marriage? What can marriage guarantee?
As far as I could see, marriage didn’t mean anything.
My mom was my father’s third wife, and their marriage only lasted four years. My mom never recovered. My dad meanwhile dated around and probably would have settled down with a Wife Number Four if he hadn’t died in a car crash when I was eight.
So I wasn’t saving myself for marriage, because I wasn’t exactly impressed by the institution. But I was saving myself for something. Or someone rather.
I wanted someone I could trust. Someone who was responsible and respectful. So many of the guys I had met were childish and rude and immature. I couldn’t even imagine trusting them with my purse, much less my body.
I shook away my cynical thoughts as I arrived at the chicken coop. A few of the boards had fallen off due to wear and tear. Together, Bri and I could fix it in no time.
“I’ve come to lend a hand,” I said.
“Great,” Bri said. “Go on and hold that steady.”
Bri was a local teenager who worked a few hours a day, and she was quiet. She never spoke more than was necessary. I liked that about her.
For the next hour, Bri and I didn’t exchange a word beyond occasional directions of where to place a nail.
When we were done, I cleaned up the chicken coop area and fed the chickens. I checked for eggs as well, but came up empty. They usually laid in the morning.
Then I met up with Bridget to go over the details of my trip to the city. I would meet with three restaurants to discuss the orders and delivery schedule for the upcoming month.
Bridget wanted me to push the sweetcorn. I wasn’t much of a salesperson at all, but I told her I would do my best.
At the end of the day, I hopped into my used Jeep and drove to the little one-bedroom house I rented. I showered and changed into my pajamas even though it was barely seven. Then I double-checked the train schedule for the next day.
I wanted to catch the nine am into the city. I would meet with the restaurants, then head over to my friend Grace’s apartment. She lived in a cramped studio, but we had been roommates in college, and she had a decent futon.