by Heather Gray
His grey eyes widened, and she saw her future in them. They would be stronger together than apart. Life would come and they would face it head-on, hand in hand.
Caleb lifted his hands from where they rested on her hips and tangled them into her hair, pulling her closer. “I’ll let you be the one in charge of when we get married, but you’re coming home with me tonight.”
Her cheeks warmed until they burned. Her resistance melted under the heat as she tried to think of something to say.
“I’m not leaving you alone again.”
She started to shake her head, but he stilled her.
“Ma makes a great chaperone. We’ll be in separate rooms, and she won’t let us get away with squat. We’ll go apply for the license first thing tomorrow, and you can call your family to invite them, but in the meantime, I need you somewhere safe.”
Lily glanced over at the plastic sheet by the wall. She ought to be bothered by proposing marriage to a man in a room where lay the dead body of someone he’d shot. She wasn’t, though. Right then all that mattered was that she and Caleb were okay and together, with a future brighter than any she’d ever dreamed for herself.
Caleb’s words rumbled against her cheek. “I’m being irrational, and you don’t like being told what to do. I know. Humor me anyway. Besides, I kind of ruined your door.”
She trusted him. Plain and simple. She trusted him to keep her safe, to honor her, and to love her. “When can we leave?”
He growled, and Lily knew she would spend the rest of her life trying to find ways to evoke that sound from him. It was pure masculinity and one hundred percent Caleb.
His lips claimed hers again, and she fell into the kiss, knowing she was cherished beyond measure both by the man in whose arms she rested and by the heavenly Father who’d seen fit to bring them together.
The sound of applause slowly penetrated the fog of her thoughts, and Lily pulled away to glance around the room. Agent Whitehall gave her a thumbs-up, while the medics and tactical officers applauded.
They’d already been on their feet, so it probably didn’t count as a standing ovation. In the future, when she retold the story to their children and grandchildren, though, it would include a thunderous standing ovation.
She glanced back at Caleb. He grinned at her, not at all embarrassed by the attention.
In fact, he looked downright smug…
Caleb leaned forward then and brushed his lips against her ear. “You’re amazing, and don’t you ever forget it.”
The End
Author's Note
Thank you for taking the time to read An Informal Introduction. I hope you enjoyed Caleb and Lily’s story. I had a blast getting to know them and the unique dynamic of their love-almost-at-first-sight relationship. And I have to admit, I enjoyed meeting Jefferson David Taylor and Agent Whitehall, too. Expect to see them again in the future…
If you can, please take a minute to tell others about this book by leaving a review on Amazon and Goodreads. I wouldn't mind if you told all your friends about it, too. Or took out an ad in your local paper… although that might get costly. In all seriousness, though, reviews are golden, and I appreciate every single one of them.
In the meantime, I would like to give a shout out to everyone who dedicates their lives to serving their fellow man by working in law enforcement. Let me also point out a couple of items I changed for the sake of expediency within this story. In the Virginia State Police, if a trooper or department is suspected of malfeasance, the issue is investigated by an internal agency. The state attorney general would not be involved. Nor would they send someone undercover to infiltrate the state police. In addition, the badge number I gave Caleb is fictitious. Actual Virginia State Police badge numbers have fewer digits. Because I didn’t want to accidentally use a real trooper’s badge number, I decided to change that up a bit.
I also want to take a quick minute to acknowledge the hard work of healthcare professionals across the country in all fields and forms. The work they do is tremendous, and the stress they are under is immense.
As any writer will tell you, gratitude is a common state of being in this line of work. I am beyond thankful that God gives me stories to share and the words with which to tell them. He has allowed me to do something I love, and it's a blessing every single day. Writing isn't a solitary journey, though, and I want to thank the people who have helped pull this story together and make it shine.
Thank you to Mike Unger for patiently answering medical questions from dosages to equipment and everything in between.
Thank you also to K.C. Turner, Elaine Morison, and the Information Office of the VSP. Their insightful — and sometimes humorous — answers to my law enforcement questions enriched both me and this story.
Lastly, thank you to the ones who cheered me on while catching all my dangling modifiers and missing antecedents: Elizabeth Maddrey, Shari Shroeder, and J. Gunnar Grey. You're each invaluable.
About the Author
Heather loves coffee, God, her family, and laughter – not necessarily in that order! She writes approachable characters who, through the highs and lows of life, find a way to love God, embrace each day, and laugh out loud right along with her. And, yeah, her books almost always have someone who's a coffee addict. Some things just can't be helped.
She takes joy in creating characters that, much like her, are flawed...but loved anyway.
You can sign up for Heather's newsletter by going to http://eepurl.com/XVlqT or catch up with her online at http://www.heathergraywriting.com. She can also be found at http://www.facebook.com/heathergraywriting, http://www.twitter.com/laughdreamwrite, and http://www.instagram.com/laughdreamwrite.
Other Books by Heather Gray
Informal Romance
An Informal Christmas, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B017L07I0G
An Informal Arrangement, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01AUF0FS6
An Informal Introduction (coming May 2016)
An Informal Date (coming Fall 2016)
Ladies of Larkspur (Inspirational Western Romance)
Mail Order Man, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00C6TPCWO
Just Dessert, http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00F2Z9X9M
Redemption, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00K031XRQ
Regency Refuge (Inspirational Regency Romance)
His Saving Grace, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E891FV2
Jackal, http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00L2DW7D2
Queen, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P8ACR1C
Contemporary Stand-Alone Inspirational Romance
Ten Million Reasons, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00E5TLMV8
Nowhere for Christmas, http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GA664GC
PREVIEW
An Informal Christmas
Informal Romance Book 1
CHAPTER ONE
Rylie ran for the elevator. A man in a faded denim jacket stood inside with the back curve of his left shoulder facing her. He didn’t acknowledge her high-speed sprint in his direction. Nor did he stop the two brushed steel panels from sliding closed between them.
She thought of pushing the button and forcing the doors to reopen. Honestly, though, did she want to get stuck in a metal box with a man who didn’t care about basic courtesy toward his fellow mankind? Not likely. Rylie huffed out an exasperated breath as she started up the stairs. Three flights up. It could be worse.
With a shove to the door, she exited the stairwell and stood on a narrow landing with skylights above and a view of the hospital’s lobby below. Ten steps to the left, and she broke through to the hallway-of-no-return. Nobody came up to this floor unless they worked in one of the three departments exiled here. The first door belonged to the chaplaincy. The second led to the main office for the hospital social workers. The third door, decorated with construction paper butterflies and cotton ball caterpillars, was home sweet home — Child Life.
“I can’t believe how rude people have become!” Rylie vented about the man in the elevator as she
stepped past the colorful decorations and into her domain. Suzie, the part-time department head who kept their ship running tighter than junior size spandex on a burly linebacker, wasn’t at her desk. Their offices were anything but spacious, though, so she was likely still within hearing distance. After all, what was a good venting without someone to listen?
“I was running for the elevator, but the guy inside didn’t even wait for me. He let the doors slide closed. Because obviously it wasn’t big enough for two of us.” She left out the part about his back being to her. Absolving him of guilt wasn’t high on her priority list at the moment.
Suzie emerged from The Vault, a nether region of their office used for storage. She dusted her hands off and frowned at Rylie. “We have company.” She waved at the man following behind her. “This is Mr. York. He brought several boxes of stuffed animals for our kids.”
No way. Not… Lots of guys wore denim jackets, right? It couldn’t be the same…
“Sorry about the elevator. I got wedged into position by my dolly. I thought I heard someone calling, but by the time I turned myself around, the doors were closed and I was on my way up here.” His voice reminded her of a lemon tart, decadent smoothness with a sharp aftertaste. For some reason, she found herself tempted to savor the sound rather than pucker. Too bad her mind was already made up about him. He might have proven interesting.
Guilt gnawed at her middle. Sorry, God. I’ll be nicer once I catch up on my sleep. She sighed. Okay, now I’m making excuses.
“Yeah, well, no worries.” Rylie waved a hand dismissively and slipped past him to reach her desk.
Had there been a dolly in the elevator with him? She didn’t remember seeing one, but her single-minded irritation at the world might have prevented her from noticing it. She couldn’t worry about that now, though. One of her kids was scheduled to start chemo later in the day. Two were going down for CT scans. Yet another had bone cancer that had led to discussion of amputation. The potential amputee didn’t seem to mind — he was still at the age where scars were to be boasted about and prosthesis meant something super-cool and possibly cybernetic. His parents, on the other hand, were pushing the outer edge of hysteria.
And then there was Makayla.
In and out of the hospital most of her life, she was sixteen and full of spirit. Confinement to the pediatric oncology unit didn’t suit her in the least. Makayla never meant to make trouble, but she always somehow managed to end up smack dab in the middle of it. This time she’d started a petition for Fourth of July manicures. Now every girl in the unit wanted one. In red, white, and blue. The fourth was in three days. How was Rylie supposed to find time to search for patriotic nail polish on such short notice?
She ran her fingers through her stick-straight black hair and sighed. It would have to come out of her own pocket, too. Suzie had reminded her just last week. The Child Life budget was maxed out. They were dependent on donations at this point, and nobody had anticipated the whims of a sixteen-year-old girl well enough to donate red, white, and blue polish.
“Uh, Rylie, did you hear me?”
She looked up from her desk. Suzie stood there, her wide green eyes expectant.
“Sorry, Suz. My girls all want their nails decorated with the stars and stripes, and I need to figure out how to make it happen. What did you say?”
Suzie shook her head. “Polish isn’t in the budget.”
“I’ll work something out.”
The hulking form of Mr. York remained over Suzie’s right shoulder. Not that he hulked exactly. His was the wiry build of an Olympic swimmer, and if forced to guess, Rylie would put him at a hair shy of six feet tall.
Suzie waved a hand in their guest’s general direction. “Mr. York here is planning on making monthly deliveries to us. He’d like to be able to coordinate with someone so he’s better informed about the needs of our patients. I hoped you could be his liaison. You know, keep him up to date, that sort of thing.”
“Liaison? Isn’t that your job?” Rylie regretted the words as soon as they passed her lips.
The middle-aged woman shook her head as a shadow dimmed her eyes. “I’m part-time since the cut backs, remember? My job is to keep this department running, but there isn’t enough time in the schedule for me to handle everything that needs attention. If I don’t start delegating, I’m going to lose my mind.”
Suzie wasn’t to blame. The hospital, not her, had decided Child Life needed only a part-time administrator. To run the entire department.
Rylie sighed.
Working at a children’s hospital affiliated with a much larger adult hospital had tremendous benefits. Their patients had access to treatments and equipment that a smaller facility on its own wouldn’t be able to provide. It had its share of drawbacks, too, though. One such drawback was money.
Decisions were made based on profit, and the adult hospital — with nearly four times as many beds — dominated the spreadsheet. As a result, the children’s hospital found itself in an indefensible position whenever budget cuts were discussed. If the adult patients didn’t demand a service, that service was deemed unnecessary.
Times were hard, and it was apparent nowhere more so than in this forgotten corner of the hospital where everybody worked themselves into exhaustion so the patients wouldn’t feel the pinch of reduced budgets and staff.
“Very well. Give me a second, Mr. York.” Rylie booted up her computer and sent a message out on the intranet that Child Life shared with Social Work and the Chaplaincy. Need red, white, and blue nail polish for the girls in Oncology. Anybody have some?
She counted to thirty, hoping for a return message. None came, so she shifted her attention to the man who now leaned against the wall opposite her cubicle, arms crossed. As she did so, she prepared to send her computer into hibernation. The mouse hovered over the power down icon as a beep reached her ears. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed in the command to bring the intranet chat box to the front on her desktop.
Dollar store by my house had huge display earlier in week. I’ll check on my way home this afternoon. How many bottles?
Bless her. Blossom, the retired CEO of a successful technology firm, had realized too late that she couldn’t stand retirement. She now volunteered as a chaplain to fill her time. Per her choice, she worked with adults in her official duties, but off-the-unpaid-volunteer-clock she did whatever she could to help the children’s hospital.
Two of each ought to do it. THANK YOU.
She hoped those girls realized they wouldn’t be getting flags and fireworks on their nails. Her skills were limited. It would be a good day if she remembered to paint one nail red, the one after that white, and the next one blue. If they were smart, the girls would give each other manicures and leave her, at best artistically challenged, out of the fun altogether.
“Ah-hem.” The man still leaning against the wall cleared his throat.
A quick glance at the clock told Rylie she needed to be on her way. The first of the CT scans was scheduled to start in fifteen minutes. Scotty, an eight-year-old patient, had asked her to accompany him because his parents were at work, and he didn’t want to be alone.
“Walk with me, Mr. York.” She brushed past him hoping her voice hadn’t sounded as cold to his ears as it had to hers. It wasn’t his fault she’d been running nonstop since coming through the hospital doors hours prior — or that the day’s race was far from over.
A second later, the yell came from behind her. “Watch out!”
Rylie spun around in time to see a previously stacked column of boxes tumbling in her direction. Of course. The boxes with the marbles in them. Who had piled those blasted boxes so high? No one in touch with their sanity would be foolish enough to… Oh yeah. She’d done it. Because they’d needed the room.
A speedy jump saved her from most of the trauma, but the edge of one box landed on her left foot. Her yell filled their small office. Meanwhile, one of the other boxes broke open. Marbles began rolling across
the floor. Rylie, her lost balance tossing her in that direction anyway, managed to throw herself in front of the door as she fell. At least the glass-orbs-of-doom wouldn’t wander out into the hallway and cause further catastrophe.
Whose brilliant idea was it to donate a hundred pounds of marbles to the Child Life department? Now she remembered. The international marble champion Rylie had convinced to visit the hospital and host a demonstration for the children one afternoon had been so moved by the experience that he’d donated thousands of choking hazards to them. The boxes had been stacked in the corner so long she’d almost forgotten about them. Until now.
“It’s awfully narrow in here. I brushed against a box. Sorry.” Mr. York held his hand out to help her up, but Rylie wasn’t sure she wanted to move. Some falls – and crushed toes – deserved to be babied for a bit. The image of poor Scotty, afraid of the CT machine, popped into her head, though, and she couldn’t ignore the outstretched hand.
The benevolent stranger and knocker-over-of-boxes started to speak again, but Rylie cut him off as she got to her feet. “I’m needed elsewhere. Walk with me, or it’ll have to wait.”
“Don’t worry about the mess here, folks. I have nothing better to do with my time.” Suzie’s indignant muttering followed them all the way to the elevator.
“You should get your foot examined.”
Being angry at him would be easier if his voice didn’t make her think of sweet treats on hot summer days.
“A little boy is going for an NBD test, but he’s terrified. My job is to make it bearable for him, even if that means limping all the way there and back.”
“NBD?”
“No Big Deal. The kids classify any procedure not involving needles, saws, or drills as NBD.” The children actually said needles or a scalpel. She’d thrown saws and drills into the equation to get under his skin. Looks like it worked. So why didn’t she feel good about it?