“And must,” she said, wrapping him up tightly.
Kirke took his time, doing a very thorough job of kissing away any lingering doubts. Each moment, each touch was filled with romance, love, and adoration that were indescribable. Kirke had a way with words— indeed, he made his living by them— but he had much better, much stronger capabilities of expression through his lips. Breathless, Jennifer returned his declarations and made a few of her own in a language that was both new and familiar. When they finally broke apart, their hearts entwined forevermore, Jennifer was clinging to his shirtfront, and his hands were splayed across her back. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Jennifer grinned. Step aside, Elizabeth Bennett: a new heroine has turned the page.
“I’M SO EXCITED TO MEET a real writer,” Jennifer teased as she and Kirke waited for the reading to begin. Armand’s reading had been rescheduled and moved outdoors on the last night of the Harvest Hurrah. With Kirke in tow, Jennifer hadn’t gotten there as early as she’d hoped. They’d had lunch with Doug, and he and Kirke had spent the day going over Kirke’s latest draft. It needed a lot of work, but words poured out of him as if a dam had broken. He’d hardly slept, and Jennifer told him he could skip the reading and get some sleep, but he’d insisted he’d rather be with her— and she believed him.
“Excuse me?” asked a man in a ski jacket. He looked somewhat familiar, but Jennifer couldn’t put her finger on his name.
“Yes?” replied Kirke.
“You probably don’t remember me, but we met a couple weeks ago at my aunt’s estate sale.”
Jennifer snapped her fingers. The con artist. “That’s right.” Kirke gently squeezed her hand telling her he remembered the man too.
The man pulled out a maroon book and presented it to Jennifer. “I read it, like you said to, and I want you to have it.”
“What?” Jennifer accepted the book in her free hand. “I don’t understand.”
“Aunt Sarah was like you— it just feels like the right thing to do.”
“I— thank you!” Jennifer pulled the book close as the man melted into the crowd. The fact that he’d found them in all the hubbub of the Harvest Hurrah was a small miracle. “Marian will be so happy.”
“I’m so glad I have you. I’d completely forgotten about the assignment.”
“You’d be lost without me.” Jennifer grinned.
Kirke pulled their entwined hands up and kissed her fingers. “I don’t think you understand what this does to me.”
“What?”
“Your touch.”
Jennifer felt her cheeks warm.
“If I had known what this was like, I would have grabbed on to you two years ago and never let go.”
“Me too,” she squeaked as he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.
“Ahem!”
Jennifer’s ears burned. She knew that voice. “Hi, Mrs. Tumnus.”
“I told you two— hayloft.” Though her expression was stern, Mrs. Tumnus’s eyes laughed.
Kirke and Jennifer exchanged a glance.
“Well!” Mrs. Tumnus said a bit tartly. “I assume you’re staying in town, Mr. Staples.”
Jennifer smiled. After Kirke’s agent had called the Gazette and explained the situation, an apologetic retraction was printed on the front page, and Kirke was back in the good graces of everyone in Echo Ridge.
“I am.” Kirke gave her hand a squeeze.
“Then you’ll continue to serve on the library board?”
“If you’ll have me, Mrs. Tumnus.”
Jennifer double-blinked as she realized the young girl in the family portrait hanging in the library must be the woman standing before them. She was a Vannakin. The library’s patron. The family that donated the funds to change the church into a library. One of the wealthiest women in Echo Ridge.
The local legend turned to Jennifer. “And I’m recommending you for our new assistant librarian over the young adult and children’s sections.”
Jennifer’s head spun, and she clutched Kirke’s shirt. “What? But I don’t have my degree yet.”
Mrs. Tumnus smiled kindly. “No, but you’re working towards it. The remodeling project won’t be complete for a while so you may graduate by then. And you’re very good with the kids. I haven’t seen them as excited about literature as they were with you.” She leaned forward, a conspiratorial look in her eye. “Besides, I think you’re one of the few people in this town who can work with Marian.”
Jennifer grinned. “Working with Marian would be a pleasure.”
“Of course, the appointment would have to be approved by the board.” She winked at Kirke. “But I don’t anticipate any problems there.”
Kirke kissed her hair. “Congratulations.”
“You two keep it under control, now; there are young ones around.” Mrs. Tumnus shook her finger at them as she walked away. “I’m going to find me a French poet.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kirke saluted. “For now,” he growled in her ear.
Jennifer giggled. “I had no idea she was the library patron.”
Kirke hugged her close, their assignment wedged between them. “I’m so happy for you.”
Jennifer placed her hand on his chest and sighed. That was love! Right there. The evidence in Kirke’s joy that she was happy. That’s what she’d been searching for. “What do you say we go find ourselves a hayloft?” she whispered in his ear.
“What about your French poet?”
“Mrs. Tumnus can have him— I have a playwright.”
“Yes, you do.” Kirke kissed her quickly and then grabbed her hand and led her through the crowd of excited women, away from the soft lantern glow and into the starry fall night, where promises and possibilities fell all around like golden leaves in the wind.
Makes 6
Ingredients
6 red delicious apples
12 slices of bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 (11-oz.) pkg. caramels
2-3 Tbsp. heavy cream
1 tsp. of vanilla
A dash of salt
Directions
Wash the apples under hot water to remove any wax. Remove the stems. Insert a stick into the top of each apple and set aside.
Pour the crumbled bacon pieces onto a plate and set aside.
Melt the caramels and 2 tablespoons cream in a double boiler over med-low heat. If the caramel is too thick for dipping, add the remaining tablespoon of cream. If it is fine, then omit the last tablespoon of cream and proceed.
Once the caramel is smooth, add the vanilla and salt. Remove bowl from the heat and turn off the stove.
Holding tight to the stick, dip an apple in the caramel. You can tip the bowl to the side and sort of spin it through to get an even coating. Tap the stick on the side of the bowl to remove excess caramel. Immediately roll the apple in the bacon. Set the apple on a piece of wax paper or flattened muffin wrapper. Place in the refrigerator to help the caramel to set and not run. Repeat with remaining apples. Store in a cool, dry place for up to a week.
*Used with permission from The Bacon Lover’s Cookbook by Christina Dymock.
LUCY MCCONNELL loves romance. She is the author of the Billionaire Marriage Broker Series and contributes to the Snow Valley Anthology. Her short fiction has been published in Women’s World Magazine, and she has written for Parents’ Magazine and The Deseret News. Besides fiction, Lucy also writes cookbooks. You can find her award-winning recipes under Christina Dymock.
When she’s not writing, you can find Lucy volunteering at the elementary school or church, shuttling kids to basketball or rodeos, skiing with her family, wakeboarding, running, cycling, baking, or curled up with a good book.
You can sign up for her newsletter by clicking here, or check out her blog at lucymcconnell.wordpress.com.
To my lacrosse hero, Denver. It's been amazing to watch you grow into the tough, handsome, and hilarious man that you are. Thanks for being my boy.
CHAYTON LIECHTY RUSHED OUT of the librar
y meeting long before the board was done with the endless debating. The women insisted on having the meeting Thursday mornings during his prep hour and the principal insisted he come to said meeting. He only had a little over an hour to make the short drive both ways and give feedback in the meeting before his prep hour was over. If he didn’t hurry back, the history students would be throwing an impromptu party in his classroom.
He descended the stairs from the library’s second story and rushed through a side aisle, carrying a small stack of posters advertising the Harvest Hurrah. He’d been instructed to distribute them at the high school. A small blonde woman and two little girls were in his path. He dodged around them, but came up short when he saw who it was. “Emma?”
She turned to face him and Chayton was struck by the contrast of her dark eyes and blonde hair. She was a beautiful lady, and the mother of one of his favorite lacrosse players and students so he wasn’t going to contemplate the gentle curve of her neck. She was also one of the team moms. He’d had the opportunity to spend a lot of time around her at tournaments and parties when she helped with food. She was such a kind person and he liked the way she expressed herself with subtle humor and treated all the boys like they were her own. She made cookies for the team so often they called her their Cookie Mama. Chayton considered asking her on a date simply for her cookie-making ability. He smiled to himself. No. She was a friend and he’d be smart not to look past that, even though she took his breath away at times.
“Hi, Chayton.” Her soft voice conjured up all kinds of protective instincts in him. She’d recently divorced from a controlling and abusive husband. Her tender heart and vulnerability should be another reason not to get involved, but he’d always been drawn to those who fought through tough times with courage.
“Coach!” Her four-year old daughter, Maryn, beamed up at him. “I pway the cross too.”
Chayton bent down and grinned at her, forgetting all about the rush he’d been in. “I bet you’re going to be better than your big brother someday.”
She giggled and tugged at the dark hair spilling over his shoulder. His adoptive mother kept begging him to cut it, but he liked the link to his Native American heritage. Emma’s older daughter harrumphed and placed her hands on thin hips. She couldn’t have been more than five or six, but she was such a little princess. “Nobody is better than Mason. He’s a beast!”
“Addy.” Emma shook her head. “Where did you learn that word?”
“Mason’s friend, Josh, said it.” She focused on Chayton. “It means you’re good at knocking people down with your stick.”
Chayton shifted the posters to his left hand and couldn’t resist touching her soft, blonde curls and smiling. “Yes, it does, and you’re right, your brother, Mason, is the best.”
Clinging to a picture book with a princess on the cover, she gave him a huge smile.
“I want a cross book,” Maryn insisted.
Emma shook her head as Chayton straightened. “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Sorry.” Chayton found himself standing very close to her and wondering how it would feel to protect all of these beautiful girls. He blinked and re-focused. Mason was doing a great job taking care of his family since his ex-stepdad had been imprisoned. Chayton didn’t need to get involved.
“No, you’re not. You’re just like Mason, who thinks the world revolves around lacrosse.” Emma’s brown eyes sparkled at him with a playful expression.
“There are a couple of other things in the world.” He lifted a hand and brushed a long strand of silky blonde hair back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and he was sure the shock was reflected on his own face. He took a step back and said, “Like books and history. Those are also…” He met her eyes and his voice faltered, “Um, very important.”
“Yes, they are,” she whispered, moistening her peach-colored lips. They looked… soft.
He needed to get out of here and back to the high school where he was safe from the allure of this beautiful blonde and her daughters. Not to mention his room would probably be insane if he waited much longer and let the students have free reign.
“You asked me to donate a book on vampires.” A loud voice came from the front desk. “This is a fantabulous book on vampires.”
Chayton and Emma exchanged a glance and peeked around the corner to watch the interchange. The grumpy librarian, Marian, was staring down Jessica Porter, a friend of Chayton’s fellow teacher, Chelsea. He’d thought himself in love with Chelsea last year, but life had different plans and she had recently married Drew Stirling. Chayton hardly felt the sting anymore and had eventually become good friends with Drew, lifting weights and playing racquetball or basketball with him each morning.
Marian dangled a hardcover copy of Twilight between her fingers like it was a smelly lacrosse jersey. “I requested the classic Dracula by Bram Stoker. I hardly think this drivel deserves a place in my library.”
Jessica tossed her long blond hair and stomped one of her pink high heels. “This is romance, drama, and vampires that are cooler than anything Bum Stroker could come up with.”
“Bram Stoker,” Marian corrected, still not speaking above a stage whisper. Raising her voice in her sacred library would be akin to murder for the ornery, old librarian.
Emma glanced back at her girls. They were both sitting on the floor looking at their picture books. She strode toward the fight. Chayton was amazed. He was going to be late for school, but he wanted to watch what Emma did. He would rather dart around these brawling females than try to soothe either of them.
“Miss Marian?” Emma’s melodic voice interrupted them.
The older woman turned to her, but Jessica looked right past Emma to Chayton. It was like she had radar and always knew when he was in the vicinity. “Chayton Liechty.” She ran her tongue over her red lips and gave him a coy smile. “What brings you to the library this fine morning?”
The way she drawled out fine had him blushing. Jessica was a nice girl, but her obvious infatuation with him made him uncomfortable.
“A meeting,” he said.
Marian was still focused on Emma and her interruption. “This is a nice hard-cover book that Jessica is willing to donate,” Emma said. “Could you accept it and I would be happy to find a copy of Dracula for you?”
Without waiting for Marian to respond, Jessica squeezed Emma in a quick hug. “You’re such a doll, Emma. I love this sweater. You got it from my store, didn’t you? The fire took out my stock of them last Christmas and I haven’t found any I like as well. You must’ve bought it before then.”
Emma’s cheeks colored. Jessica managed the women’s department at Kenworth’s and Chayton had heard his female students go on about how it was the place to shop. He suddenly realized why Emma looked so embarrassed. Drew and Chelsea had given a lot of Christmas presents to Emma, Mason, and the girls last year. He would bet that was where she’d gotten the short-sleeved red sweater. He agreed with Jessica that it looked fabulous on Emma’s petite frame. She usually wore Mason’s old lacrosse t-shirts to games, but even those looked good on her. Not that he noticed. Okay, he couldn’t help but notice, but he probably shouldn’t notice.
Chayton hurried to the desk, not sure what to say to stave off Emma’s humiliation. She and Mason were not the type to look for or expect a handout. He liked the way Emma had taught her son to work hard and make his own place in life.
“No,” Marian interrupted. “Miss Porter will still find me a copy of Dracula and you, Mrs. Schiffman— ”
“It’s Mrs. Turner,” Emma said, standing as tall as her small stature would allow.
Chayton was proud of her for standing up for herself. It was great that she’d taken back her late first husband’s name, Mason’s dad. He was sure that meant a lot to Mason too.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Turner. You will find me a copy of…” Her gaze darted to Chayton and a smile lit her wrinkled face. “The Last of the Mohicans.”
Emma and Jessica both focused on Chayto
n too. Emma gave him a kind, and dare he hope, interested smile, while Jessica looked like she wanted him as appetizer, dinner, and dessert.
“Um, well, that’s a great book,” Chayton said. “Excuse me, I’ve got a class that’s going to start without me.”
“Wait a minute, Dr. Liechty. You haven’t received your book assignment yet.” She raised her inexpertly painted-on eyebrows.
Chayton shook his head, feeling like he was back in high school.
“Well, I think I have just the assignment for you.” Her eyes flickered from Emma to him and her smile grew. “You will find me a copy of The Princess Bride.”
Immediately an image of the blonde heroine in The Princess Bride assaulted him and he realized how much Emma looked like her, with brown eyes instead of blue. “Is that considered a classic?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Um, okay.” He’d heard that Marian was demanding the library board and various patrons bring in classic books, her way of supplementing the library drive, but this was a bit ridiculous. It was like she had some inner radar and knew exactly what to request of each person. The Princess Bride. That might drive his Emma fascination over the edge. Well, it wasn’t like he had to read the book, just purchase it and hand it over to Marian.
He hurried around the women, allowing himself a small glance back at Emma. She watched him with those warm brown eyes. He wondered if she would take the time to read The Last of the Mohicans and if she might be somewhat intrigued by Native Americans. Not that it mattered to him, his ancestors were Iroquois not Mohicans. Still, he wouldn’t mind her thinking about him.
Emma watched Chayton go, a roll of posters under his left arm. She hoped it wasn’t as obvious in her eyes as it was in Jessica’s what a good-looking man he was. She supposed most women probably sighed when they got a glimpse of him— the chocolate skin and dark eyes, the flowing black hair, the muscles in his shoulders and chest that were evident even through his dress shirt. Besides the fact he was well-educated, thoughtful, and obviously successful. Every time she interacted with him she was more impressed by his intellect, kindness, and ability to make things fun for his team. Maybe she should quit being a team mom so she wasn’t always interacting with him and having to restrain herself from staring unabashedly.
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 22