by Roxie Noir
“I’m an almost-entirely law abiding citizen,” he says, putting one arm around me. “I only break the laws that don’t matter.”
He means the laws about speed limits, stop signs, and marijuana, mostly.
“I just don’t want to wind up in jail on our fancy date,” I say.
“That only happened once, and it was because you arrested me,” he says, then gives my ass a squeeze through my dress. “You ready? I don’t want to be late.”
“Yeah, I gotta grab my purse,” I say, and walk into our bedroom.
“Bring flip flops too,” he calls. “And a jacket.”
Alone in the bedroom, I frown and wonder what’s going on. He won’t tell me where we’re going, and he’s been acting a little weird lately. Last week, I caught him on the phone with my mom, and he tried to act like they were just chatting.
Stone doesn’t chat on the phone.
I have some obvious suspicions, but I’m trying not to get my hopes up. We’ve talked marriage a couple of times, but neither of us is in a hurry.
“I’d be readier if you told me where we were going,” I say when I come back into the living room. Stone is standing there, rattling his keys in his hand, looking out the window at the car.
I tilt my head to one side.
“You’re sure you didn’t steal it?” I ask. “You seem nervous.”
We look at each other for long moment.
“Of course I didn’t steal it,” Stone says. “Come on.”
We drive up the coast for a long time, and I have to admit: driving the Pacific Coast Highway, close to sunset, with the wind in my hair, is glorious. Yes, my hair will be a nightmare later, but I don’t care.
“You know I grew up here, right?” I ask as we drive.
He gives me a duh look.
“Yeah, I was aware,” he says dryly.
“I’m just saying I’m gonna be hard to surprise,” I say. “I’ve been most places around Tortuga.”
“You’ve probably been here already,” he admits.
“So just tell me where we’re going,” I say.
He grins.
“No,” he says.
“Come on,” I coax, and look around. “We’re past the elephant seal beaches already, so it’s not there. We’re coming on up Hearst Castle, but we did that a couple months ago, so I don’t know why you wouldn’t just tell me we were going there.”
“Luna, stop trying to figure it out and enjoy this,” he says, laughing.
“But I like figuring things out,” I say. “This is the fun part for me.”
“My lips are sealed,” he says.
I look out the window and think.
“We’re not going too far, because I think you’re trying to get there before sundown,” I say. “Somewhere in San Simeon? That beachside bar?”
Stone grins and shrugs.
“I think there’s a ranch down there,” I muse. “We could be horseback riding, though you didn’t tell me to wear pants. Then again, I’m not sure you’d think of that.”
“Probably not,” he admits.
“Wine tasting?” I ask.
Stone snorts.
“All this for wine tasting?” he says. “Give me a little credit, detective. You can taste wine wearing jeans.”
We pass the tiny town of San Simeon, and I keep wracking my brain. It’s beautiful up here, but signs of civilization are pretty few and far between.
“Is that fancy restaurant with the windows up here?” I ask.
Stone shrugs, and I laugh.
“Did I figure it out?” I say.
He just looks over at me and winks.
A few minutes later, he slows and turns left, toward the ocean. He drives very carefully down a short dirt road, then parks at the end, on top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. No fancy restaurant.
“Come on,” Stone says, getting out of the car.
“Do we need to put the top—”
“It’s fine,” he says, opening my door and pulling me out.
I look at him suspiciously again, and he tries to smile, but he just looks nervous.
I start doing some math in my head — nervous boyfriend plus sunset over the ocean plus fancy date — and my suspicions get stronger.
Quit it, I think. This is probably just a nice picnic or something. Your anniversary is soon. Or, your sort-of anniversary.
It’s been a year since the first time we had sex, is what I mean.
Stone leads me down a steep path, and I wish he’d suggested I wear sturdier footwear than flip flops, but he doesn’t do a lot of thinking about shoes.
Suddenly, when we get to the bottom, I know where we are.
“This is that movie set that got half-buried,” I say.
“Shit,” Stone says, and grins. “I almost thought I knew about something that you didn’t.”
I laugh, and he takes my hand, leading me along the beach as the sun dips lower. In the 1940s, some director needed a remote beach to make a movie on, and for some reason they decided on this spot. They constructed a bunch of huge sets, buildings complete with walls and everything, and then just left them here when they were finished.
I used to sneak down here sometimes as a teenager. Time and the ocean has turned it into ruins. The walls and sets are covered in graffiti, and they’re eerily beautiful, especially at night.
“Stop,” Stone says.
I come to a halt, heart pounding, and look over at him.
It’s just some sweet gesture, I tell myself. He has no idea that he’s making you think he’s going to propose.
He looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. Hell, he got kidnapped at gunpoint and didn’t look as worked up about it as he looks right now, on this nice beach with no one but me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Stone smiles and looks away at the sunset.
“I’m fine,” he says. “Close your eyes and take my hand.”
“Oh, come—”
“Please?” he says, and raises my hand to his mouth.
I close my eyes. My pulse is racing, and I think I’m starting to sweat just from nerves as he leads me gently across the sand.
Chill out, I think over and over again. And don’t you DARE be disappointed when it’s something sweet and lovely and heartfelt and romantic that isn’t a proposal.
Finally he stops, puts both hands on my shoulders, and turns me. I can feel the fine mist of salt spray along my arms and I feel like my stomach is a balloon being twisted into a dog or something.
I take a deep breath. Stone rests his chin on top of my head, and I can feel him take a deep breath. I force myself to stay quiet and not ruin the moment.
“Okay, ope—”
Cold washes over my feet and I shriek, my eyes opening as I dart up the sand.
“Shit!” Stone shouts, coming after me.
The wave recedes, and he looks at his feet, his shoes waterlogged, the bottom of his pants soggy. At least I’m wearing flip flops and a skirt.
Then we look at each other, and I start laughing, holding out my hand, facing the ocean. He takes it and pulls me into his chest, moving us away from the water.
“God dammit,” he says, but we’re both laughing.
“Tide’s coming in,” I say. “You okay?”
“I’m wet,” he says. “These were nice shoes.”
“They might dry out okay,” I say, looking down. “It’s worth a shot.”
“Forget the shoes,” he says. “Just turn around.”
I do, and when I see the bright blue graffiti on the high concrete wall behind me, my breath catches in my throat.
MARRY
ME
LUNA
“Oh,” I finally manage to say.
There’s a red heart behind it, obscuring the rest of the graffiti.
Stone wraps his arms around me from behind and holds a box in front of me. Inside is a ring, a square emerald in a chunky gold setting.
I can’t fucking believe it.
�
�Luna,” Stone says, his voice quiet and serious. “Will you marry me?”
I nod, because I’m suddenly so choked up I can’t even speak.
Stone laughs in my ear.
“Come on, I asked,” he says. “You at least have to say yes.”
That breaks the spell, and I start laughing too, and Stone pulls me around so we’re facing each other, the sunset on one side and the graffiti on the other.
“Yes,” I say, taking his face in my hands and kissing him. “Yes, of course, yes.”
He slides the ring onto my finger, and it shines in the glow of the sunset. It feels weird and heavy on my finger, but in a good way.
“You don’t really wear much jewelry,” he says, our foreheads together as he looks at the ring on my hand. “And you never seemed that interested in diamonds, so I talked to your mom and she suggested this jeweler over in San Rafael—”
“Stone, shut up,” I say. “I love it.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s all I cared about.”
We kiss again, slowly, as the sun sinks below the horizon. The blue letters on the red heart nearly glowing, we stand there, in each other’s arms, looking at it.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
“Is it a confession about vandalizing public property?” I ask, dryly. “Because I’m willing to believe that you just happened to stumble across this, there being no physical evidence to suggest otherwise.”
He chuckles into my hair.
“Yeah, and it just happened to coincide with the one-year anniversary of the time I painted my garage because I hoped you’d come investigate,” he says.
“Lucky break,” I say.
“I watched about a thousand hours of proposal videos online,” he says, then laughs. “Actually, the other night, when I was watching something on my phone at the kitchen table after you went to bed, that’s what I was doing. I really thought you busted me.”
“I assumed it was something with cars,” I say. “I didn’t even think about it.”
He swallows.
“I wanted to do it well,” he goes on. “And I wanted it to be really meaningful, and I had this idea that I was going to give you a big speech about how much I love you and then, I don’t know, have a band or something and flowers everywhere and doves and champagne and I don’t know what.”
“Oh, god,” I say, making a face, and Stone smiles.
“Right,” he says. “So I did some illegal shit instead, and Luna, I don’t have a speech and I don’t even know what I’m about to say, but you’re really great, and I love you, and you make me a better person than I could ever be otherwise, and I want to be with you for the rest of my life so let’s get married.”
“I love you too,” I say. “And Stone, you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
He looks puzzled.
“For what?”
“For any of this,” I say. “For doing the right thing, for going straight, for sticking it out with me.”
“That part was easy,” he says, and I laugh.
“Even when I hide Oreos from you?”
Stone just sighs.
“You eat them all if you know they’re in the house,” I say defensively. “I had no choice.”
“Don’t ruin my proposal,” he teases. “This was expertly crafted.”
I turn my head and look at the graffiti on the ruined wall.
“When did you do this?” I ask.
“I made dinner reservations at the fancy place, too,” he says, avoiding the question.
The sun’s gone below the horizon, the light fading. I know we should go back up the cliff before it’s dark, but I just want one more minute here, alone, with Stone and MARRY ME, LUNA in giant letters.
“It must have been at night,” I murmur. “Someone would see you from the highway in the daytime.”
“I’m not telling,” he says. “You’re gonna have to figure it out.”
“Did you at least learn your lesson about fingerprints and wear gloves this time?” I ask.
He just kisses my forehead. That probably means no.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I love you anyway.”
The beach is getting dark and the breeze is coming in off the water. Stone takes my hand gently and starts leading me back toward the path, away from the graffiti and the water.
Before we start climbing, I stop and look up at him.
“You know I love you the way you are, right?” I ask. “I love you, not some ideal version of you I’ve invented.”
“I know,” he says softly.
“It’s okay that you’re fucked up,” I say. “Everyone is, and I’d still rather be with you than anyone else.”
We kiss again.
“Good,” he says. “You ready to muddle through life together?”
I laugh and squeeze his hand.
“I can’t wait,” I say.
We walk back up to the car, his shoes squishing faintly the whole way.
— The End —
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Some fairy tales start after midnight.
The crown prince and I have nothing in common.
He's a rugged, battle-hardened soldier who spent four years in an elite military unit. I met the King and Queen for the first time wearing leggings and a sweatshirt.
But there's the way he looks at me, eyes blazing with hunger. Like he knows every dirty thought I've had about him - and he likes them.
I don't know how long I can resist.
Get it now on Amazon, or FREE with Kindle Unlimited!
Jackson Cody nearly ruined my life.
I was dumb, drunk, and eighteen. He was a rodeo star with a smile that could melt steel, and I was this close to giving him everything.
I learned my lesson, grew up, and moved on. Now I’ve got my first huge assignment as a photographer, and if I play it right, this rodeo shoot could make my whole career.
There’s just one problem, and it’s got spurs, boots, and hazel eyes.
Get it now on Amazon, or free with Kindle Unlimited!
Also by Roxie Noir
North Star Shifters
Shifter Country Bears
Shifter Country Wolves
Copper Mesa Eagles
About Roxie
I love writing sexy, alpha men and the headstrong women they fall for.
My weaknesses include: beards, whiskey, nice abs with treasure trails, sarcasm, cats, prowess in the kitchen, prowess in the bedroom, forearm tattoos, and gummi bears.
I live in California with my very own sexy, bearded, whiskey-loving husband and two hell-raising cats.
roxienoir
www.roxienoir.com
[email protected]
Loaded
A Bad Boy Romance
Roxie Noir
1
Alex
“Come on,” the brunette says to her friend. “You wanna do a body shot?”
I grin and lean back in the leather booth. The music from the club below is pumping up through the floor, making the soles of my feet vibrate as the blond pretends she’s not sure about doing shots off her friend in front of me.
She’s sure. She wants to. They always do.
“Go ahead,” I say. “Live a little. Bottle’s on the table.”
The brunette looks over at me, her plump red lips pursing, and lifts the Patrón off the table, along with a shot glass, then makes a show of pouring it out.
“Where should I put it?” she asks me, her voice low and slow. The glass hovers over her barely-covered cleavage, but then she moves it to one shoulder. “Here?”
“Lower,” I say.
She balances it on a collarbone, swishing her hair out of the way.
“Here?”
/> “Lower,” I say again, my eyes on her firm, round breasts, her nipples obvious through the tight dress she’s wearing.
“Here?” she asks, finally nestling the shot glass between them.
“Perfect,” I say, and my voice comes out as a throaty growl.
The blond looks at me again with that faux-shy blink, then puts her hands behind her back, presses her face between her friend’s tits, and does the shot with practiced ease.
“Mmm,” she says. She licks her lips slowly, looking at me from the corner of her eye. “That was delicious.”
The brunette is backed up against the table in front of me, and now the blond presses herself into the other girl, biting her lip and looking her up and down.
“Can I get a taste of you?” she says, stroking the other girl’s hip.
“With him watching?” the brunette says, with the same pretend modesty.
The blond kisses the brunette, open-mouthed, lots of tongue. She slides her hand down the brunette’s breast and tweaks her nipple.
I’m halfway hard already.
The brunette moans theatrically, and I grin. I know when a show’s being put on for my benefit.
“Do I get to have a little fun?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
The brunette opens her mouth to answer me, but there’s a racket on the stairs to the VIP area and she turns her head.
Someone is bellowing over there. It sounds like a fucking animal’s gotten loose.
The blond looks over, alarm on her face, and a drunk guy charges up the stairs and throws himself past the bouncers, practically roaring.
“Whore!” he shouts, pointing at her.
He’s a total meathead, almost steroid-level jacked. His face is bright red and the veins are popping out of his forehead, like a cartoon or some shit.
“You fucking slut, I knew I’d find you up here —”