by Andre, Bella
It’s definitely working. Mrs. Butterworth is now climbing down.
“Why are you so pretty pretty?” I continue, this time louder, until Mrs. Butterworth is securely in my arms.
“I know that tune,” Preston says quickly.
“No, you don’t,” I argue and walk away toward our room.
“Um, yeah, I do.”
“You don’t!” I’m full-on yelling now.
Preston starts laughing so hard I promise you he’s going to get a hernia. Then falls over. “You made up words to your only choir solo ever? That goes to the tune of your first solo.”
I want to shoot him. “How do you even know!?” I exclaim, stomping my foot.
“Um, I was there, remember?”
I redden at the thought. Of course I remember. I remember everything. The crowd, the applause, the turning down of the school nerd. It was painfully vivid, and I did already apologize to him.
“I don’t want you to apologize to me again. Seriously, it’s fine. I was a nerd. I get it.”
He’s matching my stride, and suddenly I don’t care about getting back to our room. I just want to hug him and tell him I’m sorry for yelling at him, but I don’t want to show weakness, so instead, I let out a huge sigh.
“You can make it up to me later,” he says without stopping. “Trust me, you will, too.”
He winks and walks off to his room while I stop and analyze every word.
“Where are you going?” I yell after him.
“You’ll see.” He calls. He disappears for a few minutes then comes back wearing a pair of low slung black Nike sweatpants and no shirt.
I could stare forever.
In fact, I want to stare forever, instead I whimper and put Mrs. Buttwroth on the floor so my hands are free to explore.
“Stand up,” Preston says in a serious voice.
I stand, on shaky legs, and face him.
“Amanda Lewis,” Preston reaches for my hands and grips my fingertips tight within his, “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Huh?” I look around the room.
With one hand he reaches into his pocket and presses something on the screen. Immediately music starts playing, it’s Let’s Not Say Gooodbye, by the CO. I want to cry a bit as he puts the phone on the desk and then pulls me into his embrace and starts dancing.
“So?” He asks kissing my forhead, “Whats your answer?”
“Yes.” I whisper, “I say yes.”
His mouth finds mine, his tongue explorers my lower lip, teeth bite down on the same spot he explored, and then he’s tilting my head, kissing down my neck. “Finally.”
“Finally?” I arch towards him.
“This was all I wanted. Four years ago,” He breathes into my ear, “I wanted this. You in my arms. Us dancing. And you falling apart while you fall for me.”
“What makes you think Im falling apart now?”
“Every part of your body sings to me, Amanda.” He moves his hands slowly down my arms, “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel you…”
Swoon.
We spend the rest of the evening talking, kissing, dancing. And when he holds out his hand for me to follow him into his room. I don’t even think about it.
I go.
Because I trust him, because it’s Preston, someone who I rejected, who actually owns not just a piece of me but all of me.
“You’re beautiful.” He sighs, pulling my shirt over my head, “So beautiful.”
“Preston,” I shiver in response to his touch, “Im glad I said yes.”
He laughs softly, then helps me undress the rest of the way, “Me too, Amanda. Me too.”
***
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” A voice says interrupting my amazing dreams of Prestons hands all over my body. I got zero sleep. And I officially don’t care. Where the hell did a kid into Star Wars learn those moves? Seriously!
I glare at him. “Thank you for the obvious. Now leave so I can get ready. Geez, had no idea you were such a morning person.”
Preston pounces on top of me, his legs straddling my body, “Feeling inspired?”
I feel myself blush, “Someone is.”
“Later,” He winks and slowly slinks off of me but not before giving me a glorious view of his naked body as he walks into the bathroom, “And hurry up! We’re spending the last day together!”
I yawn and glance around the room, it’s then I notice the dog. I don't know what Mrs. Butterworth will do, but knowing her weird attraction to Preston, I can only imagine what she will do with the dog. Wonders never cease, I think, as she curls up next to him and meows. I need to find a better guard cat; this is bordering on ridiculous.
“Give me five minutes,” I yell as I run into my bedroom. One look in the mirror tells me it will take more than five minutes "Or twenty,” I yell again, before stepping into the shower.
Is it just me or do I hear him chuckling in the living room? I smile, promising myself that today will be different. No more Angelina, no more pretending, no more reading other people's texts. I feel great as I mentally decide on which outfit to wear today for Preston. Who knew he would grow up to be such a great guy? It’s my fault for doubting the male species. I think women tend to think men stop maturing at the age of sixteen, which in some cases is painfully true.
I throw on some lip gloss and pull my hair into a tight pony tail. I’m not usually one for shorts, but today seemed like a shorts-and-tank-top day. I slide into my jean cut-offs, which are not too short nor too long, and take a glance at the mirror. I am obviously tanner than when I arrived which makes my eyes sparkle that much more — or I guess it could be love too. I push the thought out of my mind the second I see my skin begin to turn an ugly red color.
“Ready!” I yell, pushing open my bedroom doors.
Preston is sitting on the couch with the dog and Mrs. Butterworth in his lap as if he is Dr. Doolittle himself. I smile and cross my arms.
“You ready?”
He takes in my outfit and scowls.
“What?” I say, backing into the room again.
“No, you look great.” He looks down. Is he embarrassed? “It’s just that—” He puts his fingers over his mouth as if he is keeping himself from saying words. “It’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” I ask, totally lost, yet still doubting my outfit, because his look is sending me all kinds of red flags.
“You look so cute and… well…” He pushes the dog and cat off of him and takes two long strides toward me.
“Well, what?” Seriously, I am dying with anticipation.
“I’m going to ruin it.”
“What? Ruin what? What are you talking about?”
He smiles mischievously then tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me into his arms. He brushes his lips against my mouth and instantly I feel like attacking him.
Back down, girl, I tell myself as I struggle to keep my hands firmly placed by my sides.
“We’re going to the sand dunes. You’re going to get dirty,” he whispers into my ear.
It tickles my senses, making me want to agree with whatever he says. I laugh weakly “Oh I’m sure I’ll be fine. I mean, how dirty can a person get?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
How dirty indeed, I say to myself and yet again taste sand in my mouth. Sand is in places I didn’t know sand can access, yet I am having the time of my life watching my soon-to-be husband (I know, I caved), drive like a madman down sandy dunes.
He looks like a little boy who just discovered a sandbox for the first time. I will admit, this is fun, minus the sand in every crevice of my body. I get back in my dune buggy and drive as fast as I can toward him. He laughs as he aims his buggy toward mine then veers off at the last second.
Note to self: When you’re hot and sweaty, don’t go to the sand dunes. Preston doesn’t even look of American descent anymore.
Luckily, we packed food and water and decided to lie down on a blanket for a short picnic. I yawn lo
udly before taking a long swig of the cool liquid. “We should head back,” I hear myself saying, and my voice sounds slightly cracked from the dry air.
“Probably,” he says smiling, only he doesn’t seem present. Something must be bothering him.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to play the sweet, understanding girlfriend role. I even lean over and start caressing his hand.
He pulls it back instantly and looks down. “I have to tell you something.”
I’m frozen. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. Something is wrong. My eyes widen as I wait for him to spill it all. Maybe this is a big joke. Maybe he is getting his revenge. Mmaybe—
“I’ve always wanted to kiss Princess Leia.”
Not what I was expecting. I stare at him and am sorely tempted to punch him in the face. But he is acting serious, so I feel like I need to somehow tell him it’s okay to have weird fantasies.
“Um, okay, that’s, well… good for you!” I say, patting his hand and looking away. Everything in me screams LAUGH. LAUGH AT HIM! But I can’t do it, not again. It would feel like the choir concert, only this time it would really hurt him.
“Sometimes…”
Oh no. He’s talking again.
“Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to be Luke Skywalker, to have a light saber that glowed, you know?”
Oh my gosh, he has tears in his eyes. He’s getting teary-eyed over Star Wars. I knew this was too good to be true. He’s still a nerd, only this time, I love him. God, if you’re listening, you’re cruel. This is a mean joke. I may deserve it, but I don’t like it.
He’s now full-on sobbing, or at least it looks like it, because his head is moving and his hands are covering his face.
“There, there,” I whisper as I pat his back with the only ounce of sympathy I can muster. “It will be okay.”
“No, it won’t!” he yells through sobs. “I won’t ever get a chance to be Luke Skywalker, and I didn’t even know my father!” He’s full-on yelling, “Damn you, George Lucas!” his fist to the sky.
My eyes are so wide right now that I swear people can see the whites of them from the mainland. My mouth is also hanging open in a frightfully unattractive way, and I am stunned into silence. Just as I was about to say, You’re crazy, he turns to me.
“That…” he says with his voice back to normal, “was for turning me down for prom.” He puts his hands behind his head and leans back onto the blanket. “Revenge is so-o-o sweet.”
I’m staggered to mere speechlessness. I can’t say anything. Nothing could make this moment of his revenge any sweeter. I already fell for it. I fell for it hook, line and sinker. I thought he was being serious, that he had snapped. No, instead he was playing me for an absolute fool. And to that there’s only one way to respond.
I take out my water bottle and pour it over his head before making a run for it back to my buggy. I feel him hot on my heels and leap toward the buggy before he tackles me into the sand.
“I can’t believe you actually fell for that,” he said, breathless.
I struggle to get free from his grasp, then give up, feeling the sand is, yet again, in places it should not be. “How was I supposed to know?” I yell. “Get off of me!” I’m laughing, but it’s an angry I’m going to get you back laugh.
“I hate that you honestly think I’m that obsessed with Star Wars.” He looks absolutely astonished at my behavior.
I stick my tongue out and grimace as his sandy hand grasps it. “I’m not letting go unless you make me a promise.”
I shake my head no, but whimper as his grip tightens.
“Promise you’ll say yes.”
My eyes are now watering, so what choice do I have? I nod my head yes and bite him when he releases my hand.
Luckily, down where we parked our rental car there were showers, so we are able to get at least a pound of sand out of our clothes and other unmentionable places.
I am the first back to the car and squish down into the seat. Preston soon follows but has decided against full clothing. His abs are in full view of my face, making me suddenly feel light-headed in the heat.
“Shouldn’t you clothe?” My shaky voice betrays me yet again as he notices the emotion that runs thick in my vocal strain. I feel defenseless against his physical beauty. It’s not rational, but then again nobody’s ever tagged me as being a rational person.
He puts on his aviator sunglasses, making my heart leap that much more, and smiles.
“I want to get a good tan.”
Nevermind that we aren’t in a convertible. He just likes making people suffer. It’s working, I say to myself as I buckle my seatbelt.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The rest of the day was a blur, before I knew it, we were flying back to the mainland. We are greeted by a smiling Kristin and Brad. Apparently the kids are fine and asked them for presents the second they got to the hospital.
“GUESS WHAT?” Kristin says, practically flying out of the car.
I suddenly remember how much I miss her energy when she isn’t around.
“WHAT?” Preston asks, trying to act just as excited.
Gotta love a guy who plays along even when he knows it will be a huge letdown.
“I just heard that Brad and Angelina are visiting Boise this week! Isn’t that amazing?” She looks at both of us, not understanding the expression on my face at all.
“Oh wow, you don’t say?” I make eye contact with Preston, but he just smiles back as if to say, HA HA. Joke’s on you.
“Anyway, I just think it's cool. You guys ready?” Kristin asks, grabbing one of our bags.
We follow her for a few minutes before I turn to Preston and ask, “What’s the plan?”
He winks and smiles, “Oh just a quiet dinner downtown… nothing huge.”I nod my head.
“Oh,” he interjects quickly, “and your Angelina dress for the evening is already picked out. I went for black again, hope you don’t mind.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “Challenge accepted,” I find myself saying as I grab his hand and head for the car.
Epilogue
“GET BACK HERE!” Preston yells loudly into my ear.
Wonderful, now I’m deaf. He’s trying to catch Ashlyn as she runs around the firehouse for the tenth time. Unfortunately, she has the engagement ring tucked away in a box on her.
Preston thought it would be romantic to propose for real, rather than constantly telling me I was going to marry him. Plus, I threatened him within an inch of his life that if he didn’t do a real proposal, that I would find the tape of our high school choir performance where he tried to ask me out for the first time.
Needless to say, this is why I am waiting patiently at the fire house for Preston to chase around his dog. The same dog which I mistook for his wife. Sometimes, when I think about the whole fiasco, I contemplate medicine for insanity. I mean, what was I thinking? I got all of that from a few text messages.
I shake my head and cross my arms, looking the part of annoyed girlfriend, when actually I don't want my life any other way.
“I can’t find her,” Preston pants next to me. “And if you say one thing about my cardio being low, I’m going to tackle you.”
I snap my mouth shut because that is exactly what I was going to comment on. He’s faster, but I can run for longer amounts of time. Not that he ever lets me remind him of such things.
He turns quickly to look at me and smiles “Did I mess up the proposal?”
I smile back. “We’ll get the ring when she tuckers out.”
He laughs and gets down on one knee. “Amanda?”
“Yes, Brad,” I answer seriously.
He laughs and corrects himself, “Angelina?”
My eyebrow rises in appreciation.
”Would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”
I wait as long as possible and watch him slowly become paler by the second. I finally pull him up, wrap my arms around him, and whisper yes into his neck.
; He picks me up and twirls me Hollywood-movie-style then kisses me forcefully on the mouth. “Challenge accepted,” he mumbles against my lips.
“What?” I look at him puzzled. “What do you mean by that?”
“You’re a challenge… always challenging me, at least. I appreciate that. So I accept all future challenges from here on out!” He looks delightfully giddy.
I clap my hands together and smile. “Really? All challenges?”
He nods.
Oh men, the weaker sex.
“Great!” I say, jumping up and down “On your mark—”
“Amanda!” He’s looking at me with his mad eyes.
“Get set!” I plant my feet, knowing he’s going to lose because he’s been chasing the dog around the firehouse for the past hour. I LOVE WINNING!
“GO!” I take off like a crazy person and fall just as fast. What in the world?
Preston sits on the floor with me and laughs. “I was trying to tell you. Your shoes are untied.”
I look at him and blush just slightly before I lean over and kiss him on the mouth. “I love you.”
He chuckles. “Like I said before, you’re crazy, but I love you too.”
THE END
About Rachel Van Dyken
Rachel Van Dyken is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author of regency and contemporary romances. When she's not writing you can find her drinking coffee at Starbucks and plotting her next book while watching The Bachelor.
She keeps her home in Idaho with her Husband and their snoring Boxer, Sir Winston Churchill. She loves to hear from readers! You can follow her writing journey at
www.RachelVanDykenAuthor.com
Homecoming Season
Susan Wiggs
Homecoming Season
Text copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Permission to reproduce text granted by Harlequin Books S.A.
Seana O’Neill