by Livia Ellis
“It's good to know that after everything we have together it takes the death of an old woman to finally convince you we belong together.” His words were humorless, and there was no smile on his face.
She pressed her lips together then spoke. “What else?”
“She wants to be buried on the western slope of the mountain, and I'm to name our daughter after her.”
“I'm not calling my daughter bruja.”
Eduardo laughed at last. “Her name is Isabella.”
“Oh,” Just as Juanita had told her. Isabella and Cecelia. “That's actually very pretty. If we have a girl, I'll consider it. And?”
“I like Isabella. It's a good name. Or Cecilia. That was my grandmother.”
She rode in silence for a moment as she tried to make up her mind. “Can we stop for a minute?”
Eduardo reigned in his horse and turned to look at her. “Well?”
She pulled the folded paper from her bra and handed it to him.
“You're not supposed to show me this.” He unfolded the square of paper gingerly as if a sketched snake might jump off the page. “You know if you do, it's not supposed to come true.”
“Eden filled me in,” she said. “Fortunately I still maintain a high enough level of skepticism, even though you do have me pretty well convinced destiny brought us together.”
He looked at the page for a moment then rubbed his hand against his jaw as he studied it. “What do you think this means?”
“Well, let's see Eduardo...” She took the drawing back from him and looked at it then held it up for both of them to see. “To the left, if we don't get married, we go our own separate ways. To the right, if we do get married, we're a happy family. Tell me the truth. The real truth. How much does it matter to you that we get married?”
“It means everything to me. I don't want to marry you because you're pregnant with my child. I want to marry you because I love you, and I want us to be a family. I want us to be together.” Just as she suspected.
“It really does matter to you, doesn't it?”
“Yes. It really does matter to me.”
“You know what?” She looked to the sky then to Eduardo. “I totally respect that. Maybe I've been so worried about what I want, that I haven't given a whole lot of thought to what you want. And to be totally honest, my mother calling our baby an accident and telling me we had better get married before anyone found out I was in trouble,” she growled a little, “really kind of pissed me off.”
“I am not unaware of this. To be truthful, as much as I like Judith, I am not pleased she tried to turn our joy into something shameful.”
“It matters to you that we get married much more than it matters to me that we wait until I come to some epiphany about the timing being right. I think we can both agree that I have this tendency to stand in my own way when my happiness is at stake. So, let's just do it.”
“You want to get married tonight?”
“I want to get married tonight. I can bend to make you happy. Our relationship isn't all about you making me happy. I can compromise and make you happy. I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that I'm absolutely positively certain this is the right thing to do, but I'm not certain I'd ever come to that conclusion. What matters is that you want this and you matter to me more than anything or anyone else in this world.”
“You're certain?”
“Absolutely. Besides, they've been roasting that poor pig all morning. I'd hate to think it died in vain.” She nudged Maya along the path as Eduardo followed behind her.
Eduardo nudged his horse, and it obediently followed his command. He rode behind Henna for several minutes taking a moment for himself to silently thank the bruja for being such a clever old woman.
About the Author
Only runs for the bus, but I do love yoga. Bit of a shoe hound. Have issues passing up handbags. Learning to play the Irish harp. Enjoy both theater and concerts. Love to read fantasy and science fiction. Adore Star Trek. Have a picture of myself dressed as Janice Rand with original Spock. Perpetual student. Vivid imagination. Sexually adventurous only on paper. Play the lottery when I’m feeling really poor. Love to travel. French speaker. Seeks readers.
Visit Livia at
http://www.liviaellis.com/
To chat with Livia Ellis and other Wild Rose Press authors of erotic romance, join us at www.groups.yahoo.com/group/thewilderroses.
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Also Available
Her Perfect Man
Book 3 of The Man series
By Nona Raines
http://amzn.com/B008E95CFW
Kim Hansen has terrible luck with men. When her sexy downstairs neighbor shows a more-than-neighborly interest in her, she's suspicious. She's been burned too many times, by too many guys. Charlie Keller is smart, hot and successful--so what does he want with her besides a few nights of pleasure?
Though Kim does her best to shut him down, Charlie's not put off by her attitude. He doesn't scare easy. Kim thinks she's clever, using sex to keep him off guard and to maintain her emotional distance. But Charlie sees through her prickly exterior to her tender heart beneath.
But Kim needs to be won over. Sure, their bedroom action is awesome, but given her past mistakes, she's convinced that Charlie is too good to be true. Just too perfect. But if Charlie has his way, he'll prove that he's the perfect man for her.
Chapter One
“Okay, Mrs. Fogle, now you’re sure you have a way home?” Kim Hansen helped her elderly neighbor out of the car and handed the woman her cane.
“Don’t you worry, dear. Bill will see I get home safely. And thank you so much for the ride. Bill would have come for me himself, but he’s so busy, you see.”
So lazy, you mean. Too lazy to even bother picking his mother up at home for their lunch date. And too cheap to spring for anything pricier than a fast-food joint. Hamburger Haven was certainly not one of the more elegant eateries in Summit, N.Y.
But she kept her low opinion of Bill Fogle to herself, seeing how eagerly her neighbor looked forward to this lunch. Mrs. Fogle had dressed up for her son in a silky dress and a matching sweater that was a bit too warm for this day in late June. She’d even worn lipstick.
“No sweat, Mrs. Fogle. Like I told you, I have to come this way anyway for work. You have a nice time, okay? I’ll see you at home.” The two women lived down the hall from each other.
She watched her elderly friend enter the restaurant and breathed a sigh of relief as Bill met her just inside the door. Kim wouldn’t have put it past him to stand his mother up, considering how busy he was and all.
With Mrs. Fogle safely delivered, Kim realized she’d have just enough time to grab her own lunch before reporting for her shift at the coffee shop.
But no hamburgers. She didn’t want to feel compelled to say hello to creepy Bill. The sub shop was just down the street. She’d leave her clunker here in the parking lot and hoof it.
But now that she no longer had Mrs. Fogle to worry about, Kim had nothing to distract her from obsessing about her cell phone. Fighting the urge to tough it out, she broke down and checked the tiny screen one more time. Still no message. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zero.
What to do now?
She’d already left Adam two messages on voice mail and had yet to hear back.
“Hey, just checking in. Are we still on for tonight?”
“Hi, just wondered if I should pick up some take out on my way over after work. Let me know.”
Just how many voice mails could a woman leave a man before she was officially considered a stalker? Were three too many?
If there was a third, it would probably sound like this: “Hey, dumbass, nice way to blow a person off. What, you’re too important now to answer your phone? Learn some mann
ers, dickhead.”
Scratch that idea. Much as Adam deserved a message like that, Kim knew it would only end up biting her in the ass. It surely wouldn’t help promote her efforts to move forward from friend with benefits to girlfriend status with her guy.
Her guy. Yeah, right. She only wished Adam Vostek was hers.
They’d been kicking it for a few months now, and though she wasn’t officially his girlfriend, Kim was sure they were headed in the right direction. Adam just needed a little more time to sort out his feelings.
She had exactly twenty-seven minutes to grab a bite and get to work at Cool Beans. The manager was gunning for her. If Kim was even a minute late, Snotface would write her up again. Time to pick up some lunch and stop fixating on Adam.
Her mind was still stuck in cell phone mode as the heavy glass door to Sammy’s Subs closed behind her. But as Kim glanced at the sandwich counter, her empty stomach performed a flip-flop. Adam Vostek, hard-bodied and handsome, the pro at avoiding her phone calls, stood there as large as life.
Too busy scowling down at his sandwich, he didn’t see her.
Kim moved close and laid a hand on his arm. “Hey, you.” She almost asked how come you didn’t call? But then she’d sound too needy, too much like a whiny loser. Adam would hate that. She had to play it loose and breezy, as always.
He blinked, and a funny look crossed his face. The kind of look someone gave to a person he owed money. A look of surprise, but not happy surprise. “Hi, uh, hey…what’re you doing here?”
Her heart flattened at his response, but she refused to show her disappointment. She gave him her best smartass grin.
“Same thing you are. Grabbing some lunch before my shift.”
“Uh, yeah. The coffeehouse, right?” Well, at least he remembered where she worked. She had an inspiration, something to brighten their conversation. “Yeah. Hey, listen, why don’t I grab some take-out before I come by tonight? Your choice. Pizza or Chinese?” The day wasn’t a total loss—at least she had an evening with sexy Adam Vostek to look forward to.
Adam’s face turned red. “Uh…” He nervously glanced around the shop as through trying to find the nearest exit. Kim’s stomach cramped.
Someone bumped them as customers began to line up at the counter. The swarm of impatient, hungry customers crowded them closer, but Adam held himself stiffly, as though trying not to brush against her. Trying not to touch her. “Ah, you know, maybe we should do it another time.”
“Another time? Why? What for?” The words popped out of her mouth before she could soften them. She probably sounded like a pushy bitch, but she couldn’t help it. He was blowing her off.
“It’s just, uh, tonight’s not good.”
Kim frowned. What the hell? Was she supposed to accept that lame-ass excuse like some airheaded little bimbo? No way.
Adam must have felt her scorn. His head dropped and he let out a long breath. “Look, we need to talk.”
Oh, shit. The most hated phrase in the English language. We need to talk. Translation—I’m going to dump your ass. Sweat popped out on her hairline, and her guts churned even more. In a fog of disbelief, she heard, “Get your sandwich and meet me in my truck. I’m parked right out front.”
Fuck the sandwich. Kim needed to know what was going on, needed to know right now. She stalked out to the sidewalk right on his heels.
“What is it?” she demanded as soon as they got outside.
Adam gestured to his vehicle. “Let’s get in the truck.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. Shit. If she had any doubts before, she had none now. This would be bad. He wanted to get her alone so she wouldn’t cause a scene. Kim shook her head. She didn’t want to be alone with him, didn’t want to wait. She wanted the bomb to drop right now and put her out of her misery. No more suspense. “No. I’m not getting in the truck. Don’t fuck with me. Just man up and say what you need to say.”
“I think we should take a break.” He blurted the words, then looked surprised by them.
“A break?” Now her heart felt stomped.
“Yeah. I just—” His face twisted in misery.
But so what? Why should she care how he looked or what he felt? The man was smashing her dreams, tearing them to pieces on the sidewalk of a sandwich shop.
Kim’s icy shock melted and she was left with a choice. She could dissolve in a puddle of tears and pleas—What happened? Can’t we talk about it?—or she could keep her self-respect, what there was of it. There was no contest.
Her mouth curled in contempt. “Get over yourself, Vostek. Break from what? From screwing? That’s basically all we do together, isn’t it? Or do we actually have a relationship that I’m not aware of?”
Adam said nothing in his own defense, which only made her angrier. She wanted to duke it out, go toe to toe with him. Punch his lights out. This guy had wasted months of her life, and for what? But even as she tore into him, Kim knew the one she really wanted to kick was herself.
She thrust her fists on her hips to keep from planting one square in his face. “And I guess I’m supposed to wait by the phone for you to call when you decide the break is over. Dream on, buddy.”
She turned away, to hide the tears of shame and rage ready to overflow, then whipped back again. “You’re a real chickenshit, aren’t you, Vostek? You want to be a lonely pathetic fuck your whole life, don’t you? Well, go for it. But let me just tell you something. If you ever happen to change your mind, do not come running to me.” She jabbed her finger in his face. “Are we clear?”
He stood there, a great big lump of stupid. No. She was the stupid one.
“Clear.”
“Good.”
But it wasn’t enough. Without thinking, she grabbed the neatly wrapped sub sandwich from his hand and smacked him on the head with it. Man, that felt good.
So good she kept whaling on him until the paper wrapper tore and the foot-long Honey-Baked Ham and Cheese exploded. Cold cuts sailed through the air and shredded lettuce speckled Adam like soggy confetti.
When the fun was over, all Kim had left was a nub of bread. She smashed the soggy remnant into Adam’s hand.
“Enjoy your lunch.”
****
Kim could barely see over the pile of clothing in the big laundry basket. Balancing it in one arm, she tried to close her apartment door with her free hand while simultaneously using one stocking foot to block her cat’s escape. Groucho was too fast for her. The fat orange cat slipped through the opening that should have been far too narrow for his bulk and high tailed it down to the first floor.
“You little—” Kim struggled not to spill the basket and its contents. She should have, she realized moments later, just set it down and gone after her pain-in-the-ass cat. Instead, she tried to save herself an extra trip and rushed after him with the basket in her arms.
Her slippery sock feet slid out from under her. “Oof!” With no opportunity to grab for the heavy oak banister, Kim bumped down the stairs on her butt. The laundry basket toppled with her, landing upended at the first floor.
“Ouch. Shit.” Kim lay there, dazed, wanting to cry. Of course this was how she’d end the day. Flat on her ass.
She lifted her head to see Groucho sitting at the door that led outside, blinking at her in curiosity. What’d you do that for?
“Thanks, buddy,” she muttered, letting her head fall back against the hard step. “Ow.” Her eyes fell shut.
She’d meant to huddle down in the laundry room and have a good old cry, her boo-hoos drowned out by the buzzes, thumps, and soapy sloshes of the old washer. But maybe she’d just lie here and let go…
A deep voice broke the silence. “My God, are you all right?”
Kim opened her eyes to find the teacher standing in the wide hallway, gazing down at her. She wanted to groan. Terrific. Just the person she wanted to witness her complete humiliation.
Charles Keller gestured toward the door of his apartment, still standing open. “I heard
the thump.” The teacher had the whole first floor to himself. Kim and Mrs. Fogle had the two smaller upstairs apartments in the former one-family home.
“Let me help you.”
Kim’s face was hot with embarrassment as the man helped her to her feet. Though not as bulky as Adam, he was strong. She felt secure as he lifted her, and she was no lightweight. He had big hands. He was tall, too, taller than her five-nine. A guy built more for basketball than football.
What the hell? Was she actually checking him out? She must have hit her head harder than she thought.
Gingerly she rubbed her sore butt, hoping he didn’t notice as he collected some of the dirty laundry from the floor. “Thanks.”
Though he’d always been pleasant enough to her, Kim mistrusted the man on principle. Just the fact that he was a teacher put her off. Her memories of school were miserable ones. Kim had spent more time in detention than on the Dean’s List, and back in the day, teachers were the enemy. Years later, that me-versus-them feeling remained.
Okay, so maybe she wasn’t being fair. It wasn’t like the guy was going to stop her on the way to the mailbox and ask her to recite the times tables. Their paths didn’t cross much, anyway, since he kept teacher’s hours and Kim was a night-owl who rose late.
No reason to be a total bitch. After all, he was just being nice.
“You don’t need to do that,” she told him as he continued picking up the fallen items from the floor.
“I don’t mind.” He straightened, something still in his hand. Kim’s eyes went wide as she realized it was a big old pair of cotton granny panties.
He saw her reaction, looked down, and dropped the panties as though they were on fire. “Oh. Sorry.”
“They’re not mine!” she blurted, her ears going hot. She groaned inwardly. What did he care about her underwear? “I mean, I was heading to the laundry room anyway, so I told my neighbor I’d throw some of her stuff in with mine.”