by C. C. Wood
“Baby, I never slept with her. She turned me down.”
I rolled my eyes. Fucking hell, he just admitted that he tried to get into my pants. That wasn’t going to calm her ass down.
Theresa turned her back to me so she could face Grayson and she started yelling.
“You told me that it was a moment of weakness. You said that you felt horrible and that she seduced you. So, who’s lying? You or her?”
I knew this might be my only opportunity, so I got to my feet as silently as I could manage. I started backing slowly down the hall. If I could make it to my bedroom, I could go out the French doors. I couldn’t go out the front door because the two of them were standing in front of it. The door to the carport in the kitchen was right in her line of sight. Only the hall to the bedrooms was still behind her.
“T, honey, please. Don’t do anything that you’ll regret. I’m telling you the truth now. She and I never slept together. When I told you all those things, I was hoping that you would forgive me for the infidelity I committed in my heart.”
I almost gagged at Grayson’s words. God, he was a pig. He was laying that shit on thick, and I knew that he probably didn’t mean a word of it.
I was almost at the end of the hallway when Grayson’s eyes shot over Theresa’s shoulder to lock onto me. The freaking idiot’s reaction drew her attention to me. His crazy wife turned, her eyes wild when she realized I was no longer on the couch but standing at the end of the hall. She raised the gun, and I made a run for it. I dashed through my bedroom door, straight to the French doors. I fumbled with the lock, hearing the loud bang of the gun. The insane bitch shot at me.
I managed to unlock the door and fling the doors open. I jumped off the porch and vaulted over the fence between my yard and Troy’s and sprinted around the house. I opened the side gate and burst out of the yard to find myself caught in the bright beam of two headlights.
The door of the car opened, and Troy climbed out.
“Amy? What’s wrong?”
Sobbing and struggling to breathe, I ran headlong into his arms.
“She’s here. Theresa Garrett is here,” I managed to choke out.
At the same time, we heard Grayson’s voice.
“Theresa, don’t. Stop. Let’s just go. She’s gone.”
Troy shoved me behind him and down so that the car door hid me. He drew his gun from the holster under his jacket. When Theresa and Grayson came through the gate, he trained the gun on them both.
“Stop right there and put down the weapon,” he ordered.
Grayson put his hands up, freezing immediately. Theresa took another step, the gun hanging loosely from her hand at her side.
“She has to pay,” she said. “It isn’t right. She has to pay.”
I almost felt sorry for her. It was obvious that she wasn’t quite right in the head and she was married to a world-class assclown.
“I won’t tell you again. If that gun isn’t on the ground in the next three seconds, I will shoot you,” Troy barked.
That seemed to yank Theresa out of her homicidal haze. She raised her other hand and bent slowly at the waist to place the revolver on the ground.
“Okay, now lace your fingers behind your head and take five steps forward.” He waited until they both did as they were told. “Get on your knees and do not even flinch.”
When both of them were on their knees, Troy pulled out his cell and handed it to me. “Call nine-one-one and then give the phone back to me.”
I did as he said and handed the phone back to him when the dispatcher came onto the line. I didn’t hear exactly what he was saying because there was a dull roar in my ears, and it grew louder and louder until it sounded like I was standing right next to a jet. A cold sweat broke out all over my body, and my knees went weak. Unable to hold up my weight, I sat on the ground next to Troy’s car and focused on not throwing up.
I had almost died. All because I had dated a man that I thought was the antithesis of the losers I normally dated. He turned out to be the biggest loser of all, and it had almost gotten me hurt. Black dots danced in front of my eyes, and I wondered if I was about to faint for the first time in my life.
“Amy! Amy! Look at me!”
I blinked and saw that Troy’s face was right in front of me, and he looked concerned.
“Slow down your breathing, babe. You’re gonna pass out if you can’t control it.”
I focused on taking slow, deep breaths. The dark spots began to recede, and the shaking of my limbs slowed a little. I looked over and saw that Theresa and Grayson were both on their bellies with their hands cuffed behind their backs. I guess Troy had secured them while I was having my meltdown.
“Is it over?” I asked.
“Yeah, baby. It’s over,” Troy answered.
My response was to burst into tears and throw myself into his arms.
Almost One Month Later…
“Amy, get your ass moving!” Troy yelled.
“Coming,” I replied as I brushed one more coat of mascara on my lashes.
It was Thanksgiving, and Troy and I were going to his parents’ house for lunch and then having dinner with my family.
The last three weeks had been hard yet surprisingly easy. Yes, I know that sounds like a contradiction, but it was completely true. The hard parts were the nightmares and flashbacks I had since the night that Theresa Garrett came here to shoot me. It was also that I was more emotional than usual for a week or so. I flew off handle at the smallest provocation. I started to calm down after a few days, and now I was almost back to normal in regards to the emotional rollercoaster I had been riding right after the attack.
The easy part was settling into a routine with Troy. We spent almost every night together. It surprised me that he didn’t seem to want time apart. Usually this early in a relationship, spending that much time together would make me want to poke myself in the eye with a sharp object.
Instead I felt safe and cherished. Troy watched me carefully, took my mercurial moods with a grain of salt, and held me at night when I woke up sweating and shaking in the throes of the same nightmare I’d had since that night. The dream in which I didn’t escape Theresa’s gunshot. What I didn’t tell Troy was that he had come in to save me, and the crazy bitch had shot him too. I usually woke up from that dream with the image of Troy’s lifeless body lying in a pool of blood, and his sightless eyes staring straight at me.
For a guy that seemed like such an inconsiderate ass a month ago, he proved himself to be generous, sweet, and even nurturing. I couldn’t believe how wrong I had been about him. He was everything I wanted in a man.
I came out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but my make-up, perfume, and a skimpy red underwear set. Troy came through the bedroom door.
“Jesus, Amy. I don’t know whether to yell at you for not being ready yet or throw you on the bed and fuck your brains out for looking so hot in that underwear,” he complained.
“I’m almost ready, I swear. Five minutes.” Okay, so I needed more like ten, but I’d be ready soon. I had already picked out my outfit. I just needed to get dressed, accessorize, and be sure I had everything I planned to bring for lunch with his parents and his brother and sister.
“You drive me nuts, woman. It’s a good thing it’s one of the things I love about you or it would be annoying as hell.”
I was in the process of shimmying into my jeans when his words processed. I overbalanced and landed on the bed on my ass.
Looking up at him, I whispered, “One of the things you love about me?”
He crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe, looking way too laid back for this kind of conversation. Most men I had talked to about love were in a cold sweat and scared shitless the first time they had this discussion with me.
“You think I take any random woman to meet my family?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.
I was momentarily distracted by how sexy he looked with that expression on his face but came back t
o the subject at hand quickly.
“No, but surely you’ve taken a woman to meet your parents before,” I said.
“Yeah, my high school girlfriend.”
I waited but he didn’t continue. “That’s it?” I asked.
He nodded.
That was it. It was too much. First he basically said he loved me, though not in so many words, and now he was telling me I was the first woman he had brought home to meet his mama since high school. I was going to throw up or pass out. Or move to a deserted island. It was too much pressure. I put my head between my knees.
“That’s not exactly the reaction a man wants when he tells his woman he loves her for the first time,” Troy drawled.
I sat up too fast and spots danced before my eyes. After I managed to refocus my eyes, I stared at him and said, “Most men don’t wait to spring this shit on their woman on a holiday when said woman is meeting their family for the first time. My brain can’t handle this much pressure in such a short time. You should have told me all this a week ago. A week would have been just enough time for me to be able to do this without making a complete idiot of myself.”
Thank God Troy thought that my neurotic side was cute because he laughed. “They’ll love you. Dad and my brother and sister will love you because I do. My mom will love you because you dress well, you come from a big family, go to church, and you’re sweet. Now, as much as I like your underwear, you need to put some clothes on so we can get moving.”
I looked at him for a moment and realized that I hadn’t really responded to his declaration of love. Abandoning my jeans on the bed, I stood and walked toward him. His eyes grew hot as I got closer. I didn’t stop walking until I was flush with his body and his arms were around me. I rose up on tiptoe and touched my lips to his.
Without taking my lips completely away from his, I said, “I love you too, Troy Castillo. You’re not the inconsiderate asshat I thought you were.”
I was close enough to see his pupils dilate in the almost black of his iris.
“Good,” he whispered against my mouth, “then you can start thinking about when you want to get married.”
My body went solid. Troy laughed at my shocked expression and lifted me off my feet. He carried me to the bed and took us both down on the mattress.
“The first girl in fifteen years that I’ve taken home, and you’re surprised that I’m thinking about putting a ring on your finger?” he asked.
I never got to answer because his mouth was on mine and his tongue was in my mouth. Needless to say, we were very late for lunch with his family.
Six Months Later…
It was the perfect day for a wedding. Early May in Texas was a gorgeous time of the year; not too hot, but warm enough for an outdoor wedding. My parents’ house and yard were crawling with seventy-five wedding guests. Most of them were family members.
I stood in my old bedroom and looked out the window into the backyard. Chairs were set up near my mother’s flower beds, facing a gorgeous arbor that was covered in roses that my mother had been growing for years. Both of my older sisters had been married in front of that arbor, and I’m sure my younger brother and sister would be as well. It was sort of a tradition in my family.
“Get away from that window,” my mother admonished. “It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the ceremony and Troy just got here.”
My tummy tightened. In just a few short minutes I would be walking down the aisle to marry the man that I loved.
The last six months had been a whirlwind. Troy hadn’t been joking. After Thanksgiving with his family, who loved me as he promised, he had practically moved in with me on my side of the duplex.
For New Year’s he presented me with a gorgeous princess-cut diamond engagement ring, set in yellow gold and surrounded by a vine of emeralds and small ruby flowers. It was the most beautiful, unique ring I’d ever seen. I found out later that he had designed the ring and chosen each stone with the help of the jeweler.
He told me I had until May to plan the wedding or we were going to Vegas. Knowing my family, I made it happen because my mother never would have forgiven me for getting married in Vegas by Elvis or, even worse, Liberace.
I was beyond ready to pledge my eternal love to Troy before God, my friends, and family. I turned from the window and headed to the mirror above my old vanity. I checked my make-up and veil one last time.
My mother brought my spray of fuchsia orchids over to me. I smoothed down the lace overlay of my figure-hugging strapless dress and accepted the flowers. I had more orchids of the same color affixed in my hair by the bun at the base of my skull, and my shoes matched the flowers perfectly.
“Is it time yet?” I asked impatiently.
Looking at me strangely, my mother said, “Almost. We need to start heading downstairs.”
I grinned at her, ready to get this show on the road.
“Are you okay, Amy? Do you need to sit down or a drink of water?” she asked.
It was my turn to look at her with a confused expression on my face. “No. Why?”
“You aren’t nervous?”
I shook my head.
She started to say something else, but my younger sister and bridesmaid, Ellen, burst through the door of the bedroom, out of breath.
“It’s time.” Her eyes bugged out of her head. “You look amazing, Amy.”
I took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
We all trouped downstairs. My mom ran out the back door and signaled the string trio that we had hired for the ceremony. Since they were friends of mine from music school, they were invited to stay for the reception.
I waited impatiently as my mom and my four sisters walked across the lawn with the groomsmen. Finally the music changed, and it was my turn. I smiled at my father and linked arms with him. He liked Troy a lot and was happy that his middle child was finally settling down.
As we walked across the grass to the arbor, my eyes went straight to the man I loved. He looked so tall and beautiful in his tux that my heart squeezed. I took a slow, deep breath to keep my eyes from tearing up and ruining my careful make-up.
Our eyes stayed locked on the long walk from the house to the flower garden and the arbor. I vaguely heard the minister from the church where I grew up ask who gave me in marriage and my dad’s response. All I could think about was how amazing this moment was.
Troy smiled at me as my dad placed my hand in his and in that second I knew that my future was full of love, laughter, and passion. Everything that I ever wanted.
A native Texan, C.C. grew up either reading or playing the piano. Years later, she’s still not grown up and doing the same things. Since the voices in her head never shut up, C.C. decided to try and profit from their crazy stories and started writing books.
Now that she has a baby girl at home, C.C.’s non-writing time is usually spent cleaning up poopy diapers or feeding the poop machine. Sometimes she teaches piano, cooks, or spends time bugging her hubby and two beagles.
Novellas:
Girl Next Door Series:
Friends with Benefits
Frenemies
Drive Me Crazy
Kiss Series:
A Kiss for Christmas
Kiss Me
Novels:
Bitten Series
Bite Me
C.C. loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her on both Facebook and Twitter!
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/authorccwood
Twitter:
@CC_Wood
Website:
www.ccwood.net
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