by Ann Everett
She thrust a finger at him. “You’re a sneaky man. You and your picnics and sunflowers and prairie dogs and chocolate chip cookies.” She advanced, wobbled, then grabbed the waist of his pants to steady herself, and worked the button.
He started to help, but didn’t. She was on a roll, so he’d let this play out.
“Be still. You have a bad habit of starting and not finishing. You get me all worked up and then walk out. Well, not today.”
He stepped away. “Not a good idea. You’re drunk and I don’t want you to claim it was the alcohol talking.”
“You said to let you know when I decided what I wanted, so here I am. I’ve decided.”
“What? That you want to have sex? That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”
“Get a pen and paper. I’ll spell it out for you.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes! Now do it! I’ve got to sit down a minute.”
She collapsed onto a stool, put her arm on the counter. “Number one.”
“Wait, I don’t have a pen yet.” He rummaged in a drawer, found a pencil, and wrote the first number. “Now I’m ready.”
“Number one,” she repeated. “I want you. Number two.” She hesitated as if gathering her thoughts. “Oh yeah. The Collin’s dropped the lawsuit. Number three. I want you.”
He jerked his head up. Damn, she was free to leave. Maybe that was what this visit was about.
Goodbye sex. “So you get to keep Silbie?”
“Yes. Number three. I want you.”
“I already have that at number one. Should I move it to number three?”
She pursed her lips. Narrowed her eyes. “No, that’s okay. It bears repeating. Number five.”
He held fingers in the air and wiggled them. “Four. We’re at number four.”
“Oh, okay.” She straightened and attempted to rest her chin in hand, it slid off, but with a second try, she landed it. “I sold my shop and I’m staying here. Should that all be the same number or two?”
“Wait. You’re not leaving?”
“Nope. I mean, yep. I don’t know which answer works with that. No, I’m not leaving or yes, I’m not leaving. Which is it? Anyway, I’m staying.”
“Five. This is the best one. I’m not going to make you say you’ll never love me.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. It was wrong for him to make her suffer, but she deserved it for what she’d put him through. Besides, he’d practiced this moment in his head a hundred times. “Not necessary. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I can say it and mean it.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she didn’t speak. Tears rolled down her cheeks. Then she leaned forward and cried. “I waited too long. I keep making terrible mistakes. I don’t deserve to be happy. That’s why I’m not and never will be.”
“Raynie, look at me.”
She bit her bottom lip and gazed up at him. “No, it’s okay. I understand. I was right all along. We’re not meant to be together. The cards said so, but they were wrong.” She stood. Placed her hand on the counter to steady herself. “I should go. I’m sorry . . .”
He stepped closer. “Rosebud, hush and listen. I’ll never love you . . . less, only more . . . each day for as long as I live.”
She blinked and placed a hand to her head. “What?”
“I said I love you. I don’t know when it happened, but it did, and I think you love me, too, but you’re just too damn stubborn to admit it.”
She vaulted into his arms. “No. I’ll admit it. I love you. I’ve been miserable without you. I want happily-ever-after. I want it with you.”
He held her tighter. “Did you just propose?”
She jerked away and blinked again. “Yes. No. Yes.”
He smiled and remembered the moment he fell in love with her. “Is it multiple choice?”
RAYNIE STOOD AT the end of the aisle and took it all in. Jared put his hand over his heart as if to keep it in his chest. She’d chosen an untraditional dress. Blush in place of white. A sleeveless silhouette with a blossoming hem, hand embroidered roses and vines, plunging V-neckline, and revealing back to show off the tattoo he loved so much. The way he was looking at her made her bare toes curls into the carpet.
His parents sitting on one side and hers on the other, looked . . . normal. The housewife and the architect. The nudist with the young husband. And the marijuana farmer on Raynie’s arm.
Turned out, her fear of not fitting into Jared’s family had been a waste of time. She and Maggie formed a fast friendship. Elizabeth and John loved Silbie, and Jared’s mother had told Raynie she’d never seen Jared happier.
Nobody could ask for a more perfect August day. Fluffy clouds danced across a crystal blue sky, while a slight breeze stirred enough to carry the scent of flowers, but not a speck of dust.
Best friend, Quinn was radiant. Pregnancy agreed with her. Molly slept on her dad’s shoulder, and Dak looked miserable. Weddings weren’t his thing, but he’d do whatever it took to keep Quinn happy.
Mr. Remmus winked. He’d gotten his muse back and started a new book. Ironically, the characters met in a church parking lot. Raynie couldn’t wait to read it.
St. Paul’s Episcopal Chapel had been the natural choice for the ceremony and had never looked more beautiful. The minister had said as much.
Filled with roses, greenery, and baby’s breath, white wicker pockets hung from each pew. Staggered columns held massive baskets of leafy ferns, flanked by candelabrum. Urns mixed with pink roses, white lilies, and sunflowers sat on either side.
Raynie wore her hair the same as the first time Jared saw her, but had intertwined fresh flowers. He’d told her it was the odd hairdo that had taken his breath. Any woman with that many styles going on at the same time had to be the most interesting he’d ever met.
She’d never seen him more handsome. His dark hair and blue eyes a sharp contrast against the gray tuxedo. Next to him, the angel in her life, Silbie.
Tears rimmed Raynie’s eyes. Waiting at the end of the aisle before her, stood the first chapter of her happily-ever-after. And she finally believed it possible.
Award winning and Amazon Best-Selling author, Ann Everett embraces her small town upbringing and thinks Texans are some of the funniest people on earth. When speaking to writing groups, businesses, book clubs, and non-profit organizations, she incorporates her special brand of wit, making her programs on marketing, self-publishing, and the benefits of laughter, informative and fun.
She lives on a small lake in Northeast Texas where she writes, bakes, and fights her addiction to Diet Dr. Peppers.
Ten more things about Ann
She’s been married to the same man since dirt, but introduces him as her “current” husband.
She loves shopping at thrift stores, because nobody loves a bargain more than she does.
She doesn’t remember her first kiss. Maybe hypnosis would help.
She hates talking on the telephone . . . so don’t call.
A really sharp pencil makes her happy . . . part of her OCD.
She secretly wants to get a tattoo. Shh . . . don’t tell anyone.
A charter member of National Honor Society in high school remains one of her proudest moments. . . . she still can’t figure out how that happened.
She’s thankful wrinkles aren’t painful.
She sucks at math.
An Invitation to My Readers
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~Ann
Want to find out about Jared before he met Raynie? He first appeared in his brother’s story, TELL ME A SECRET.
Here’s a sneak peek.
Chapter One
According to scientific studies, Maggie knew even good girls got aroused by bad boys. The personification of that research, Jace Sloan, strutted into the campus library with the confidence of a peacock, leaving a trail of pheromones to settle on every coed in the room. A wave of whispers circulated, each female mesmerized by his imaginary plumage.
She surveyed his approach. He appeared to shift into slow motion, his stride lyrical, as if shuffling to a soulful beat leaving no doubt as to why girls found him irresistible. He looked as if he could take you to hell, and you’d enjoy the trip. Leaner than the men in her fantasies, he had the same blue eyes and dark hair, and a small paper-thin scar on his chin made him just dangerous enough.
Drumming fingers in rhythm with her throbbing headache, she glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes late as expected. This wasn’t her first experience with a college jock. Sophomore year, she’d tutored Texas Tech’s star quarterback, and what a jerk he turned out to be. But this time, Dr. Adams assured her it would be different. Apparently, the professor made a mistake.
At least she was sitting in one of her favorite buildings, surrounded by the comforting scent of books. Technology was great, but holding a hardcover, the pages and words transporting her to places she dreamed about, made her happy.
A strand of unruly hair fell into her eyes and she puffed it away, then slid her glasses up on her nose and decided to look on the bright side. Given Jace’s reputation, he’d never stick with tutoring and she’d be off the hook. Besides, helping a self-centered pretty boy pass anatomy was the last thing she wanted to do.
“Maggie Fielding?” He looked sure of himself, and she felt uneasy. “I’m sorry I’m late. My truck had a flat.”
Motioning for him to take a seat, she checked the time again and frowned. “I understand, but I also have to study, so try to be on time.”
His grin disappeared. He grabbed the chair across from her, spun it around and straddled the seat like he was doing it a favor.
She got right to the point. “There’s a technique that may help you. Do you know what a mnemonic is?”
“No. Sorry.”
“I’m sure you do, just not the word for it. You use the initials of words to help memorize information. For instance, to name the cranial bones, we’d use, Old People From Texas Eat Spiders. Old would be occipital, People would be parietal, From would be frontal, and so on. Get it?”
“Yeah.” His answer came out warm enough to raise the temperature in the room. It elevated hers and she scolded herself.
“If you agree with the method, that’s what we’ll use.”
Before he answered, Maggie caught sight of a curvaceous blonde wearing a halter top slightly larger than a baby’s bib. When she reached Jace, Booby-babe leaned down, planted palms flat on the table and provided him a clear, full view. A necklace with the number ten-and-a-half escaped from between bulging breasts and dangled in mid-air. Maggie thought how horrifying it’d be if every girl wore a numeric rating, realizing hers would be a five, at best.
The girl handed him a note and whispered, “Are we still on for Friday night?”
“You bet.”
“Well, here’s my number just in case you lost it.”
The bottle blonde retreated with long fluid steps, the sway of her hips enough to tempt any man. Maggie wished her own butt looked that good in jeans. Shaking the notion from her head, she gave attention back to her new student.
He stuffed the note in his shirt pocket as if nothing had happened. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
“Okay, here are some test cards.” She shoved them toward him. “I’ll quiz you on them next Monday.”
He shuffled through the deck, then arranged them in a neat stack with the same enthusiasm as the card with Blondie’s phone number.
Across the room, another young woman headed their way, boobs jiggling, bleached curls bouncing with each step. Maggie expected her to throw hands in the air and lead a cheer.
“Hey, Carla,” he said.
Miss Perky Perfect tossed her hair and beamed at him. “After the other night, I expected to hear from you.”
“Sorry, I’ve been busy. You know, practice, studying.” He gestured toward Maggie, then lowered his voice. “I promise I’ll call you later.”
She eyed Maggie with a what’s-he-doing-with-you glare and walked away.
God, what’s with all these blondes and their double-D-dumplings? Maggie rounded her shoulders and tried to disappear into her B-cups. From the looks of both girls, Jace preferred cookie cutter Barbies.
Maggie sucked in a deep breath and frowned again. Gathering her books, she shoved them into her backpack and attempted to look unconcerned. An old familiar burn started in the pit of her stomach, rose to her chest and squeezed the air from her lungs. A sensation she’d not experienced since age sixteen while crushing over Daniel Radcliffe in a Harry Potter Marathon Movie weekend. She swallowed the knot in her throat. “We’re done for tonight. As I explained in the email, this was a meet and greet. I’m doing this as a favor to your professor, so if you can manage to be on time next Monday, we’ll have a regular session.”
Jace stood and leveled an incandescent gaze. “I’ll try not to let it happen again. You want me to walk you to your car?”
She tried to match his stare, but couldn’t pull it off, so as a diversion, she rummaged in her purse, produced a business card and snapped it toward him. “Well, in case you have another flat, here’s my number. I’d appreciate a call.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “And no, I don’t need an escort.”
He accepted the card and stuffed it in his jeans pocket. “No problem.”
She walked away.
~~*~~
At nine fifteen, Maggie dropped her backpack onto the floor and strolled into the kitchen. Still upset about her new student, she grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and downed half of it in one gulp. She’d watched him play football plenty of times but had never taken a close look until she’d googled him. Roommate Sarah Henderson interrupted her thoughts.
“So what’s your opinion of Jace?”
“Not much.”
“Whataya mean?”
“I mean, I wasn’t surprised. He came in late and made an excuse, but I’d be willing to bet he was with a groupie.” Maggie slid the band from her ponytail and shook it loose. “I admit he’s gorgeous. As a matter of fact, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.” She stared into space and spoke in a far off voice. “He’s like a box of candy—and every girl in the room wanted a piece.” She snapped from her trance. “It was pathetic.”
“Come on, Maggie, just because your mother sucked at the choices she made doesn’t mean every man in the world is a jerk. But in this case, Jace is a charmer, so you should be careful.”
Maggie walked past her into the living room, plopped onto the sofa and folded her feet under her hips. She took another swig of water, then held the bottle as if toasting. “He’s not my type.”
Sarah broke into a full laugh. “My God, you’ve been on three dates in your entire life. I’m not sure you know what your type is, or if you even have a type.”
Maggie grimaced. Sarah was right. She didn’t have any experience with men in the dating arena for sure and not many role models. “From the looks of fans who came over to talk, unless I have gargantuan breasts and big-bar hair, I should have said I’m
not his type.”
Her friend crossed her legs Indian style and Maggie expected a lecture, but instead, Sarah said, “Sam tells me Jace has nev
er had a long-term relationship. He sleeps with a girl a few times, and he’s done. That pretty much makes him a manwhore. Will the interruptions be a problem?”
“Not for long. While I waited, I made a decision.” She finished off the water, replaced the lid and picked at the label. Sarah’s warning wasn’t necessary. Maggie realized the moment she saw Jace, he’d be trouble. “I’ll meet with him a couple more times and call it quits. That should satisfy Dr. Adams. I agreed to try tutoring and made it clear if Mr. Football Superstar didn’t apply himself, I’d end it.” She wadded a piece of the label into a small ball and rolled it between her fingers. “For the record, I can already tell. Jace Sloan will be a total waste of my time.”
~~*~~
In three long strides, Jace crossed the room and dropped his bag onto the floor, still thinking of Maggie. She was a strange one. All business.
His roommate, Sam Morgan glanced up from his book. “Hey man, you’re cutting it kind of close to curfew. How was the tutor?”
“Plain with a brain.” He sat on the edge of the bed and retrieved his notes.
“Definitely not your usual sort.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You don’t go for the smart ones and you seem a little pissed. What’s wrong? She wasn’t dazzled by your charm?”
The dorm reeked of dirty socks and burly football players. He toed out of his boots. “We got off to a bad start. I showed up late. It went downhill from there.”
“How come? You left in plenty of time.”
“Yeah, well, I stopped by the store where the new cheerleader works.” “How was she?”
“Flexible. Very flexible.”
Sam grinned and widened his eyes and Jace knew he wanted details, but he wasn’t in the mood.
“I guess it’s a good thing teacher isn’t hot. At least you’ll be able to keep your mind on the subject and out of her pants.”