Love Happens

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Crazy.” Blake sighed, not yet taking a drink. “Our show will hopefully bring an entirely new awareness to the tenacity of tornadoes and the field of study. Just like the movie did back in the day.”

  I chuckled. “Did you just say back in the day?”

  She playfully smacked my shoulder. “Yes, so?”

  “Nothing.” I raised my hands in defense. “Just wanted to draw more attention to it.”

  She snorted, and my heart did that thing where it filled my entire chest so it was hard to breathe. Reeling in her laughter, she raised her bottle. “To the Extreme.”

  I tapped mine against hers, and then we both took the shot.

  Blake hissed, shaking out her shoulders like the swallow of whiskey had burned all the way down.

  I smiled at her, taking her bottle and mine and stashing them in the car. Wrapping my arms around her, I held her to my chest.

  “We’ll watch it tonight?” She looked up at me in question.

  “Whatever you want.”

  She grinned. “And Tombstone?”

  I brushed a quick kiss over her lips. “You are the perfect woman.”

  She shook her head, squeezing her arms around my waist. I settled my chin over her hair, knowing it could take years before Blake would get used to the compliments I continued to shower her with. I hated that it was something she wasn’t used to, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over the darkness in her past, but I would spend the rest of my life counteracting it.

  “I love you,” I said just because I could. “I love that you’re my wife. That this is our life.”

  “Love you,” she said, tilting her head to look up at me. “I couldn’t imagine being happier, and we’ve only just started this new beginning.”

  I crushed my lips on hers and parted them with my tongue. I stroked her, starved for her taste, her breath, her scent. How could anyone be as happy standing in the middle of a dirt road with nothing but the quiet and the clouds around us? It was like Blake had been designed specifically for me, and I for her. Now that she was officially mine, I intended to seize every moment possibly to show her how much I loved her, how much I would go on loving her the rest of our lives.

  “Dash.” She sighed against my mouth, fisting the back of my shirt.

  I hefted her off her feet, and she locked her ankles around me. I walked slowly, and gently lowered her on top of the hood of the Mockingjay. We’d just made love a couple of hours ago, but I couldn’t deny the ache I had for another round.

  I trailed the curve of her arched neck with my tongue, relishing the way she melted into me, her soft body perfect against every hard inch of mine.

  “Here?” She said, part a question part a plea.

  I glanced around, searching for any reason why we shouldn’t. The sun was just setting a bright orange as it sank at the horizon. The sky was scattered with clouds, but nothing that posed an immediate threat. John and Paul were miles down the road, and the other chasers were strategically placed all over tornado alley. We had to maintain position for at least an hour to get the proper image for the app capture, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep my hands off her that long.

  “Are you tired of me claiming you everywhere but our bed?” I teased, nibbling her bottom lip.

  “No,” she said, slipping her hands beneath my shirt to run her fingers over my abs. “We can do that after a movie session.”

  “And now?” I growled when she plunged her hands lower.

  “Now, I just want you, Dash. I know I have you for the rest of my life, but I can’t ever get enough of you.” She kissed me and that paired with her needy words made me rock hard for her. “You’ll have to tell me if I ask too much. I just can’t help it. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. The way you make me feel, the way you love me. You’re a craving rooted in my soul.”

  “Fuck, Blake.” I claimed her mouth, stroking her tongue in every way I intended to her body in a few moments. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” That we felt the same way, that we were insatiable for each other. It was consuming, powerful, and downright terrifying at times, but my love for Blake made me stronger, better, and complete.

  She leaned back, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen from my kiss.

  The churning in her eyes said it all, the love, want, and happiness swirling together to create something more consuming than the storms we chased. This woman, my wife, love of my fucking life, held me with a look, and I dropped to my knees before her. I hooked my fingers in the waist of her pants, tugging them down just enough to put me eyelevel with the gorgeous black lace that covered her.

  She arched into my mouth as I settled it over the lace, teasing her.

  “God, Dash!” She bucked, her perfect ass raising off the hood of the Mockingjay, her body open and wanting and all mine. “I need you.”

  My hand flicked over the button of my jeans, aching and ready to give her just what she demanded.

  “Blake, Dash?” John’s voice crackled over the radio, and I hissed.

  “Shit.” Blake jolted, frantically jerking up her pants like they were right behind us.

  “Easy, woman,” I said, barely dodging getting my nose taken off by the upswing of her pants. “It’s just the radio.”

  She chuckled, the breath rushing out of her in one fast huff. “Jerks!”

  “You guys there?” John called again and I re-buttoned my jeans, grabbing the radio through the opened window of the Mockingjay.

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying like hell not to snap. It wasn’t his fault I couldn’t keep my hands off Blake.

  “There is a cell developing about twenty miles from here. Looks like it’ll be most active when we finish up.”

  Well, wasn’t that just perfect? A battle raged inside me, chase another storm tonight or spend the rest of the evening back home worshiping Blake’s body? With how close I’d been to sinking inside her for the second time today, the latter idea was winning.

  Blake reached across me, taking the radio from my hand. “We’ll move out as soon as they give us the go ahead. Wouldn’t want to mess up the image.”

  “Copy that,” John said. “We’ll meet you on the highway in a half-hour.”

  “See you then.” She clicked off the radio and put it back in the Mockingjay, arching a brow at me.

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  “Dash Lexington,” she chided. “You were contemplating not chasing.”

  I glanced down at what was still straining against my jeans. “Can you really blame me?”

  She tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, following my gaze, her eyes hungry.

  “That doesn’t help, woman,” I said, grabbing her hips and hauling her against me.

  “That doesn’t either,” she said, gasping.

  “We don’t have to chase,” I said, my lips moving against hers in a tease.

  Her eyes rolled back in her head before she shoved me away. “I want to.” She grinned. “And after, you can take me home for a proper night in your bed.”

  “Our bed.” I pulled her against me again. “We still have thirty minutes.”

  Her eyes flared. “What do you think you can do in thirty minutes?” She challenged me.

  I grabbed a handful of her perfect ass, grinding her center against me. “Enough to bring you right to the edge, and let you hover there while we chase down a tornado. And when we get home, I’ll draw you back, and push you there over and over again until you can’t see straight. Until my name is the only word you know how to say.”

  She trembled against me, and it shot waves of warm chills over my skin.

  “Sound about right?” I asked when nothing but her quickened breaths had responded to my promise.

  “Sounds perfect,” she said, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  I kissed her, soft at first, and then harder, showing her with the motion of my lips how serious I was.

  With the warm outside air around us, the darkening sky above us, and the prospec
t of a chase ahead of us, flashes of our future filled my mind. And every version in my imagination looked so damned beautiful; I couldn’t wait to experience every single second of it.

  Molly E. Lee is an author best known for her debut novel EDGE OF CHAOS, and as a fourth year mentor at Pitch Wars—a program which connects promising writers to established authors in the community. Molly writes New Adult and Young Adult Contemporary featuring strong female heroines who are unafraid to challenge their male counterparts, yet still vulnerable enough to have love sneak up on them. In addition to being a military spouse and mother of two + one stubborn English Bulldog, Molly loves watching storms from her back porch at her Midwest home, and digging for treasures in antique stores.

  www.mollyelee.com

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  Kissing For Keeps by Molly McLain and Rhonda James

  Three nights. That was the agreement.

  Just an extended weekend pretending to be in love with a stranger, all to keep my mother off my back.

  The rules were simple:

  No sex.

  No strings.

  Zero expectations when the ruse was over.

  But two hours into the trip, and I’m in trouble.

  How am I supposed to stick to the rules when her lips are the sweetest I’ve ever tasted? When her skin feels like satin beneath my fingers? And just how important are the rules anyway when we’ve already broken the very first one?

  I was the one who suggested no strings, so why, come Monday morning, am I also the one left in knots?

  LUKE

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to ride to Chicago with you and spend a week pretending to be your girlfriend?” Amelia stares at me, dumbfounded, before she goes back to filling the remaining sugar dispensers on her tray. “And all this, a ruse to keep your mother from breathing down your neck at a wedding?”

  It’s a crazy plan, I know. But I’m willing to pull out all the stops just to convince her that this can be a good thing for both of us.

  “Yes. But it’s only four days of lying, so it’s not technically a week. We’ll go, put on a good show, then come back home and resume our normal lives where you serve me food and I continue leaving you generous tips for your excellent service and pretty smile.” I grin up at her, making sure the gesture is a little brighter than normal without being too creepy. She rolls her eyes, takes the tray to the counter, and grabs a pitcher of iced tea before coming back to lean her thigh against the booth, as she studies me curiously.

  Seriously, why hadn’t I thought of this before? For weeks, I’ve been going on about this damn wedding to whoever would listen. I’ve been coming to this diner three days a week for lunch—and sometimes dinner—for the past three months. More often than not, Amelia has been my waitress. She’s nice. Pretty. And generally a good listener.

  My sister’s wedding is this weekend and you can bet your life my mother has left no stone unturned in her quest to make sure her baby girl is properly taken care of. Nothing simple or quaint for my little sister, Grace. Not on your life. Grace has to do everything on a grand scale. Over-achiever. Valedictorian. Sorority girl. Getting married to her college sweetheart with a plan to squeeze out two kids over the next four years. All this makes my mother very happy … With Grace.

  With me? Not so much.

  “Is this some kind of a joke?” Amelia continues to eye me. “I mean, why are you asking me? You don’t even know me.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ve been coming here for months now and you usually wait on me. We’ve talked a lot. I know your name,” I point out.

  “Yeah, well, I wear a nametag, so technically that doesn’t count,” she argues. “What about those catty witches you have working lunches with? They usually fall all over themselves trying to get your attention. Why aren’t you charming the pants off one of them? I’m sure it wouldn’t take much to get a yes. Hell, you’d probably even get laid.” She tops off my tea and goes back to staring.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” I shake my head and lean both elbows on the table.

  “Oh? Why is that? Is it because of the whole ‘Never shit where you eat’ principle? Because that’s damn ironic, don’t you think?” With a frown, she leaves to greet another table, and I wait for her to come back so we can continue our conversation.

  “While that’s definitely a valid reason, it’s not what’s prevented me from asking them,” I offer when she returns and her lips purse together while she waits for me to elaborate. “Sasha and Tori would see the invitation as a step towards a relationship. Especially Sasha. For the past six months, she’s been throwing herself at me. I need a girl who will accept this proposition for what it is and not read anything more into it.”

  This gets her attention, though I can’t tell if it’s the good or bad kind when Amelia lowers herself into the seat across from me and narrows her eyes. After a few seconds, she lowers her gaze to my hands while keeping hers folded on the table in front of her.

  “So, tell me why your mom is giving you such a hard time about this. I mean, who has the right to say that being thirty means you’re supposed to have your shit together? What’s wrong with playing the field and keeping your options open?”

  I bring a hand to my chest in mock disappointment. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not thirty. I just turned twenty-seven.”

  “Three measly years. Big deal.” She waves her hand dismissively. “My point is you have plenty of time to find the right girl and settle down. I mean, if that’s what you’re into.”

  “God, no,” I snap harshly. “Maybe someday, maybe not. But definitely not today. And most definitely not this weekend. I just need a girl who can help me trick my mom into believing we’re blissfully in love, even though technically we’re not.”

  “I take it you and your mother aren’t very close.”

  I cock my head to the side and pretend to be affronted. My mom and I have never been as close as her and Grace, but I won’t tell Amelia that and give her the impression that it bothers me. “Why would you assume that?”

  She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I guess because most of the mothers I know would take one look at the two of us and see right through the lie.” I shake my head but she continues. “Normally, when people are blissfully in love they’ve shared countless kisses and have been intimate. It doesn’t take a genius to see we’ve done neither of those things. Believe me, your mom will smell your bullshit from a mile away.”

  She rises from the booth to take the new table’s order, but this time she doesn’t come back to join me when she’s finished. Guess maybe she needs time to process my proposition. Or maybe she’s done with the conversation entirely.

  While she’s gone, I use the time to observe her from a distance. She really is an attractive woman, even in her old school, aqua blue waitress uniform. Her dark auburn locks are piled high on top of her head in a messy bun. I’m certain it was much neater when she arrived at work, but the diner’s always busy at dinnertime and it’s close to eight o’clock already. Even hours into her shift, her skin is flushed and pink, with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose that compliments her caramel eyes.

  My mother would love her. Grace might even approve too, not that I’ve ever cared about impressing her. Mostly I’ve tried to stay out of her way, lest she run me over on her race to the top of everything she’s ever done.

  I’m not jealous of my sister’s success. In fact, I’m proud of her. I just wish my mother would stop holding me to the same standards. I like my quiet, uncomplicated life just fine and someday I’ll tell her that. But not this weekend.

  Amelia strolls over a few minutes later with my bill in hand. She hesitates before placing it on the table and I react to her reluctance the only way I know how …

  “I’ll pay you a thousand dollars.”

/>   She blinks at me like I’m insane and maybe I am. This is possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done.

  “No strings attached, and Monday morning we come back to this.” I gesture between us and give a sheepish smile. If I sound desperate, it’s because I am. I’ll never get my mother off my back if I show up to this wedding alone.

  “As flattering as that offer is—you know, like I’m some kind of easily bought call girl …” Amelia lifts an eyebrow. “My answer is still no. It would never work.”

  “Actually, I think—”

  “Luke.” She raises her hand and flashes the smile that made it so easy to ask for her help in the first place. “You seem like a really nice guy. Instead of faking a relationship, maybe you should just tell your mother the truth. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being gay—”

  “I’m not gay!”

  Two booths ahead of mine, a burly, biker dude turns around and barks out a laugh. “Good to know, buddy.”

  Shit.

  I glance up at Amelia, who’s biting her lips together, the little minx. “You know I’m not gay,” I chuckle.

  “Yeah, but I couldn’t resist.” Her pretty eyes dance beneath the diner lights and I wish I could think of something to change her mind, because this girl … She’s exactly what I need this weekend.

  Shaking my head, I pull out my wallet and hand her not only a twenty for my nine-dollar meal, but my business card too. “Call me if you have a change of heart.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Humor me.” I shoot her a wink and she sticks out her tongue before moving on to the biker.

  Obviously we’re done discussing the matter, so I head to the exit, not really sure why I’m disappointed. I knew asking Amelia to take part in my hair-brained scheme was a long shot, because, as she pointed out, we barely know each other. I may be a regular patron who happens to tip well, but for all she knows I’m also a serial killer with a penchant for diner waitresses.

  If I were her, I wouldn’t go along with me, either. And that leaves me in one hell of a predicament, doesn’t it?