by Nancy Warren
“Before we got married?”
“Yeah.”
“Before you promised in front of God and all our family and friends to love me forever?” Her voice was rising.
“Yeah.”
Amy stood up. Her coffee wobbled precariously and she slammed it down, spilling dark liquid on the new tray. “Is that where you’ve been going? All those times you’ve disappeared on me?”
“No. Sometimes I go to my office and look back through old pictures of us.”
“Oh, God,” she cried. “I do that, too.” And then she burst into tears. “It used to be so easy,” Amy sobbed. “We were so in love. Why is marriage so hard?”
Jackson had been sitting watching the pair of newlyweds with a scornful expression on his face. Now it was he who rose and put his coffee down. “You talk about love as though it’s a Disney movie. Love isn’t like that. It’s about caring about another person, even when you don’t want to. It’s about wanting them to be happy and have everything they ever wanted even if what they want isn’t you.”
Jackson wasn’t looking at Amy when he said the words. He was looking right at Lauren, and at the expression in his eyes, her heart began to pound.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Seth countered. “You’ve never been in love.”
“Yes,” Jackson said. “I have.”
“When? You never told me.”
There was a tiny pause when she felt as though something rare and magical was happening. “I am,” Jackson said. “I am in love with an amazing woman right now.”
Seth snorted. “I bet she doesn’t break your balls if you leave your socks on the floor, or you say something stupid.”
He raised an eyebrow, and she felt that their path had been the opposite of Amy and Seth’s. They’d had all their disagreements first. She knew all his weaknesses, had pinched at him for most of them, and he’d done the same for her.
“Oh, she lets me know all the time when I’ve said something stupid. She’s not easy on me. Not at all. But she’s the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning, the first person I want to tell when something funny or crazy or important happens. She’s the last person I think about at night. The only woman I’ve ever known who’s made me believe in love.”
Only now did he break eye contact with Lauren and turn to look at Seth and then Amy. “You can’t give up. If you love each other, you have to fight for it.”
“What do you think, Lauren?” Amy asked.
Lauren took a moment simply to savor this new knowledge that she was loved by the man she’d never believed could make her happy, and who seemed to be doing exactly that.
“I think,” she said slowly, “that if we can spend more time appreciating the good in people we love than fixating on the bad, then we might be surprised at what we find.”
“Sure, that sounds good,” Amy said. “But try it in the real world.” She glanced at each of them in turn, then back to Lauren. “Let’s see you find the good in Jackson.”
She acted as though she’d totally stumped Lauren, and Seth guffawed aloud. “Good one, honey.”
“The good in Jackson,” she said. She gazed at him and found him looking right at her, into her. “Jackson does a good job hiding all that is best about him so it’s easy to think he’s someone that he’s not. Jackson is kind. I never knew that before, but he is. I thought he was a stuck-up rich boy, and he let me think that. But he’s not. He’s decent, hardworking, trustworthy, a good friend. He’s funny, honorable, sexy, and there’s something about him that makes me feel better when he’s around.”
As declarations went, she was putting herself right out there and it felt good. It felt right. All this time, they’d been falling in love in the shadows, not even realizing what was happening. Now that they were saying these things aloud they didn’t seem so frightening.
It was Amy’s turn to scoff. “Oh, come on. That sounds fine, but you’re not married to someone who doesn’t treat you like a princess anymore.”
Of course, Amy and Seth were so caught up in their own drama she didn’t think either of them had figured out that two people who’d always thought they hated each other were declaring their love right in front of them. She smiled at Jackson, knowing he was thinking the same thing, and in return she got that crinkly-lidded smile that made her weak at the knees.
She turned to Amy. “No. And I don’t want to be with someone who treats me like a princess. I want to be treated like an adult, an equal. Amy, so should you. Seth isn’t on this earth to make you feel good about yourself. That’s your job. Maybe your expectations are too high.”
“You can say that again,” Seth agreed, shooting a triumphant look at his wife as though he’d won a point in some game instead of fighting for his marriage.
“And you’re as bad,” she said, rounding on him. “Amy’s a normal woman with needs. She’s going to get PMS and bad hair days, and your job is to love her anyway. It’s easy to love when everything’s going well. It’s when times get tough that you find out what you’re made of.” She sighed. “Times are tough for you two right now. Are you willing to fight for love? To fight for your marriage?”
“I don’t want to lose Seth,” Amy wailed.
“Good. That’s a good start. How about you, Seth?”
“I still love her,” he admitted, sounding less than happy about it.
“Okay. Look, I’m no marriage counselor and I really think you two should go visit one and get some guidance, but here’s what I want you to do. Right in front of us, like you did when you got married. Seth, can you tell Amy why you fell in love with her?”
He fidgeted and scratched his knee. “You mean, now?”
She had no idea what she was doing, but they were both listening and she didn’t think she could possibly make things worse, so she went with her instincts. “Yes, now.”
“I don’t know. I loved how sexy she was. Her amazing boobs. Her pretty smile.”
That was about the most shallow reasoning Lauren had ever heard, and she was about to say so when Amy said, “Oh, Seth. Really? You really think I’m sexy?”
“You know I do.”
“Okay, anything else?”
“I think she’ll make a great mother. She’s fun to be around. She’s a good cook.”
“How about you, Amy? What made you fall in love with Seth?”
She giggled. “I liked his shoulders. His big football-playing shoulders. And the way all the guys looked up to him. I could see he was a leader. I knew he’d take care of me.”
“Oh, baby, you know I will. I’ll always be here for you.”
The two fell on each other, kissing noisily. “I’m so sorry,” Amy said.
“No. It was me. My fault. I was an ass.”
Jackson stepped forward, took her hand and said, “Okay, then. I think we should go.”
The newlyweds didn’t even hear them as they let themselves out of the house.
“Phew,” she said, when the door shut behind them. “I hope they work it out. Do you think they will?”
“Right now, I’m not too worried about Seth and Amy. I have other things on my mind.”
She glanced up, feeling suddenly shy. “Really? What kind of things?”
“You know, love and stuff.”
She laughed, couldn’t help it. “Love and stuff?”
He moved closer. “Like, could you? Do you?”
She could and she did, but she was a woman in love and she definitely deserved a real declaration. “No. No, no and no! You did better in there with an audience. This isn’t how it’s done, with ‘will you’ and ‘could you.’”
“I’ve never told a woman I love her before,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “It’s huge. Terrifying.”
“It is.”
“Okay. Here goes.” He shot her a glance. “You’ll stop me if I’m wasting my time, right? You won’t let me make a fool of myself for nothing?”
Oh, he was so adorable. She wanted to memorize e
very second, every expression that flitted across his face on this momentous morning. “You won’t be wasting your time,” she promised.
“I’m nervous.”
“Me, too.”
He took her hands. “You’re the one who creates real things that last.”
She gripped his hands right back. “You know what stained-glass work is? It’s making art out of things that don’t go together. Opposing colors, different elements, but you seal them together and something magical happens. Once the different pieces bond, they’re together forever. Is that what you want?”
“More than anything. I love you, Lauren.”
“I was hoping that was what you were getting at back there.”
“I do. I love you and I want to be with you.”
“Was that true? What you said in there?”
“About you being the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about at night?”
She nodded.
“Yes. It is. And I edited out a few parts, like how the world feels right when I’m deep inside you, and when you’re curled beside me in the night, our bodies touching, and how waking up beside you is the best part of the morning. I’m not perfect, and I don’t think you’re perfect. But I’m willing to work at it. More than anything, I want you to be happy.”
“I want that for you, too. Oh, Jackson, I love you, too. So much. And it hit me so fast I never saw it coming.”
“That’s how it was for me, too.” He looked deep into her eyes. “So, what do you say?”
“What, exactly, are you asking me?”
“Will you go to Amy and Seth’s housewarming party with me on Saturday?”
She choked on a laugh. “You’re asking me to a housewarming party?”
He put a hand to her hair, stroked down and cupped her cheek with his warm palm. “I am asking you to walk in, holding my hand, in public. In front of all our friends and the people we care about, we’ll show up as a couple.”
Her eyes widened as she realized exactly what he was getting at. “They’ll torment us. All those years that we hated each other, and now, to admit we’re in love?”
He nodded. Grinning. “And Willy and the frat boys might even figure out that their wedding night prank actually worked.”
“I have to think about this.”
“Say yes. If we can face the mockery of our friends, we can do anything.”
“You love me that much?”
“You have no idea.”
“Then, yes.”
He leaned in, kissed her slowly, sweetly, and suddenly she was being crushed in his arms. She couldn’t get close enough.
Behind her she heard the townhouse door open. “Lauren? Jackson?” Amy squeaked. Then she yelled, “Seth, get out here. You’re never going to believe this.”
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from THUNDERSTRUCK by Vicki Lewis Thompson.
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Thunderstruck
Vicki Lewis Thompson
1
FOLLOWING AN AFTERNOON of painting eaves, Damon Harrison was looking forward to a long shower and a cold beer. Southern California’s current heat wave would make working at his foster parents’ ranch in Sheridan, Wyoming, next week a treat. He peeled off his T-shirt as he walked into the master bedroom on his way to the shower.
This was the room he’d used almost exclusively while living in the house he was renovating. He kept the furnishings minimal—a queen bed on a metal rolling frame, collapsible shelving for his clothes, one floor lamp, a small TV and a computer desk on wheels so he could sit on the edge of the bed to type. He unfolded a TV table for meals.
When he began a renovation, he brought basic furniture, linens and kitchen supplies. All of it fit in his construction trailer once he was finished. Then he’d haul it to the next house and start all over again.
Damon loved flipping houses. He’d always gravitated toward construction work, and turning a trashed house into a showplace was immensely satisfying. The moment when he handed over the keys to the new owner gave him a rush of accomplishment that he hadn’t found in anything else.
Passing the desk, he refreshed his laptop screen out of habit. Sure enough, there was an email from Phil Turner. Phil was a Sheridan carpenter who’d agreed to help him build a log cabin at Thunder Mountain Ranch over Fourth of July weekend.
Ordinarily, he preferred to work alone, but he could only spare a week to build the cabin, which wasn’t enough time to do it right without help. His foster mother, Rosie, had recommended Phil, and Damon had exchanged emails with him for a couple of weeks. Phil was giving them a head start by ordering the materials and preparing the site.
After all their communications, Damon was confident they’d be on the same page and ready to go when he arrived in Wyoming. Working solo meant he hardly ever talked shop with anyone. Until now he hadn’t realized he liked doing that.
He and Phil had discussed the project in depth. They’d settled on a concrete foundation, which would be poured today so it would be cured by the time he got there on July second. Phil seemed to have exacting standards, which made sense. After all, Rosie had recommended him.
When Damon arrived, the building permits would be approved and the electric box installed. All the materials would be on site, along with a rented forklift and a compressor. Phil had been good about sending pictures, so he’d probably emailed one of the concrete foundation.
Damon opened the email and downloaded the attached picture. The foundation looked perfect, exactly as he would have wanted it, with sill logs laid in squared-off precision around the perimeter to anchor the walls. The cabin wouldn’t have any plumbing, the same as three others that had been built on Thunder Mountain Ranch years ago. No plumbing made construction a whole lot easier and cheaper.
Damon had been fifteen when he’d moved into the first cabin along with Cade Gallagher and Finn O’Roarke. About a year after Rosie and Herb Padgett had started a foster program at the ranch, they’d realized that their five-bedroom house would soon be bursting at the seams. Damon, Cade and Finn were the oldest boys and the ones who’d been at the ranch the longest, so they’d had the privilege of occupying the first cabin.
Remembering move-in day still gave him a charge. The three of them had been so excited, even though they’d had to trek out to a bathhouse instead of going down the hall like they’d been used to. The taste of freedom was far more important than indoor plumbing.
A couple of years before that, they’d sneaked into the woods at midnight and enacted a blood brother ceremony around a little campfire. They’d called themselves the Thunder Mountain Brotherhood—still did, in fact—and on that first night in the cabin they’d carved their TMB logo on a beam over the doorway. Good times.
But now Rosie and Herb had financial problems that could force them to sell the ranch. The Brotherhood, along with Cade’s girlfriend, Lexi, had proposed launching Thunder Mountain Academy, a coed residential program for kids sixteen to eighteen who were considering a career involving horses. The seed money was being raised through Kickstarter, a crowdfunding program.
They’d decided a fourth cabin would allow them more housing flexibility when they began accepting students. Damon was the obvious person to build another one, and he was glad to do it. Initially, he’d budgeted two weeks, but the w
rong tile had arrived for his current project and screwed up his schedule.
Good thing Phil had been available to supervise the critical first stages of construction. Damon studied the picture again. That must be Phil’s shadow stretched across the troweled concrete. Damon wondered if Phil had long hair. Either that or he’d draped a bandanna over his head before putting on his hat to shield his neck from the sun.
Didn’t really matter. Damon didn’t care if a man had long hair or short if he could do the job. Judging from their email discussions, Phil was competent and thorough.
Clicking the reply tab, Damon crouched down and typed out a response.
Looks great. Never thought to ask. Can you work on the Fourth or do you have plans?
He doubted Phil was waiting for a reply. He’d put in a long day.
But as Damon started to leave, a click alerted him to an incoming email. Phil was probably catching up on email after work the way Damon usually did. With the hour time difference, Phil might have polished off his first beer already.
Assuming he was a beer drinker was a safe bet. Many construction guys were, and Phil seemed to fit the profile. Damon pulled the computer table over to the edge of the bed and sat down to read his reply.
I can work on the Fourth, but Rosie’s planned a big barbecue for that night, so we might need to wrap things up by four or so.
Damon typed an answer.
Suits me. But I’ll be watching my alcohol intake so I’ll be bright and bushy-tailed on the fifth.
The reply was almost instantaneous.
Understood. He who drinks a fifth on the Fourth will not go forth on the fifth.
Damon chuckled.
LOL.
Then he added a more personal note because he was feeling so good about this collaboration.
It’ll be great to finally meet you.
Same here. Well, I’m off to watch my favorite cop show.
Talk soon.
Damon sent the response and turned off the computer. Now that he’d heard from Phil, he didn’t need to leave it on. This time crunch had played hell with his social life, and he currently had zero women expecting him to call, text or email. Just as well. Time to take that shower, sip that beer and watch his favorite cop show.