Oh my God.
She’d failed her own test. Beau had scars—weak points in his otherwise formidable strength. He’d shared them with her right from the start, and she’d claimed to understand, but when they got right down to it, she hadn’t accepted him scars and all. She’d rejected his love as too damaged, and demanded he fix it. He’d asked her to stay, but she’d walked away because he hadn’t been able to ignore his fears and paste a smile on his face. She needed to find him, talk to him, right now.
“I have to go,” she mumbled, already in motion, fighting her way through the shifting kaleidoscope of shapes and colors to find the exit. She had it in view when the door opened and a man walked in.
Savannah skidded to a halt and let her greedy eyes feast on Beau for a moment while he scanned the room. For her?
He still wore his uniform, and stood out in rugged contrast to the polished suits and dresses surrounding him. He held something in his hands. People parted to let him through, all the while looking around to see who needed his attention.
Me. It’s me. I need him.
But for some reason, her feet remained glued to the floor. She’d become performance art. Woman Paralyzed with Regret.
She knew the moment he saw her. His eyes locked onto her face, and her nerve endings tingled. Slowly, he approached. “I need a minute with you.”
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, and immediately started crying. Damn pregnancy hormones.
“No, I’m sorry. I know this isn’t the right time or place. I’m the last guy you want to see, and I’m showing up like a selfish jerk and ruining your big night. Timing’s not my strong suit, but I need to speak to you before you leave for Italy.”
She had to talk around the lump in her throat. “I canceled the fellowship as soon as I learned I was pregnant. I didn’t want to have my baby half a world away from home.”
“Thank you,” he said, and had the grace to look genuinely relieved. “Thank you for that, even if you had your own reasons for doing it.”
She didn’t know what to tell him about her reasons, so she stayed quiet.
“I want to introduce you to some people you should have met a long time ago.” He held a book out to her. She took it and looked down to see a pink photo album. Her heart prepared to run, but she found her voice.
“Y-you don’t have to…”
“I do.” He flipped the book open, and a picture of a sweet, tiny newborn in a little pink hat filled the page. Two deep, all-seeing eyes stared back at Savannah. Miniature versions of Beau’s. “This is Abbey.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“Yes,” he agreed, and turned the page to a photo of a pretty, young brunette in a hospital bed, holding the baby and smiling a smile that radiated pride and adoration. “This is Kelli.”
“Also beautiful,” she managed, but the lump was back with a vengeance, and she couldn’t say more.
He flipped through a few pages and opened the album to a picture of a younger Beau with one arm wrapped around his baby, and the other wrapped around his wife’s shoulders. They stood in the shade of a big green maple tree. His smile reflected an unrestrained joy she hadn’t seen from him since he’d been a little boy, chasing her around the swing set with his silly rubber snake.
“This was us.”
Tears stung her eyes. He’d lost so much. Of course he feared losing again, and she’d been ruthless with his fear. “I’m so sorry.”
“I was, too. I loved them. Having them in my life made me happier than I even realized until they were gone. And when they left, I would have done anything—bargained with the devil, sold my soul, traded my life—to have more time with them. Losing them hurt so much. The hurt faded after a while, but it will never completely leave.”
“I understand. I do.”
“The thing is, I’ve been so focused on the hurt I overlooked something important. I wouldn’t trade a minute of my time with them. Not even to eliminate the pain. I’ll always wish we’d had more time, but even knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have missed them for the world.”
“I’m glad.” She sniffed back tears and wiped her watering eyes. “I know you loved them.”
The lights went down around them. The crowd broke into a countdown.
Beau talked faster. “I did. They’re an important part of my past. But you, and our baby? You’re my future, and I don’t want to miss this, either. I love you. I want to be there with you, and I want you with me—through every up and down. I’m all-in. No hedging. No holding back. I can handle anything except letting you walk out of my life. What do you say, Savannah? Will you take me on?”
She wrapped her arms around him and hung on. “Beau Montgomery, you have a hell of a way of wishing a girl happy New Year.”
“It’s my way of asking you to marry me. Take a risk on me, on us, and a happy new life.”
“I’m all-in.”
He kissed her as the lights strobed, and the crowd cheered, and people shouted, “Happy New Year!”
“Happy New Year to you, Smith,” he whispered. Her knees went weak from the vibration of his voice in her ear and the sheer thrill of being pressed against him again, but to her surprise he suddenly drew away. She nearly swayed, but he dropped to his knees, clasped her waist in his big hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her stomach. “Happy New Year to you, little one.”
“To us,” she corrected when he stood and wrapped her in his embrace. “Happy New Year to us.”
He kissed her again, long and slow, only raising his head when hers started to spin. He rested his forehead against hers, and she basked in the joy lighting his eyes.
“To us.”
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Acknowledgments
As always, I owe vital organs to a whole bunch of people for helping make Beau and Savannah’s story a reality. Massive thanks to:
The whole awesome Entangled team, including Liz, Kari, Curtis, and Katie, but especially Heather, for sharing her ideas about a paramedic with a tragic past and a pie-baking artist—and believing I’d do them justice.
The insanely talented and generous Robin Bielman, for reading the first chapter and giving it a thumbs up, then holding her tongue when I re-wrote it, then not saying I-told-you-so when Heather told me the first version worked better.
The insanely talented and generous Hayson Manning, for reading the (more or less) final version and saying, (more or less), “Stop hacking at it, you paranoid fuck!”
The Romance Writers of America and the Los Angeles Romance Writers. I don’t participate as often as I should, but in my mind, I am at every meeting and event, consuming the wisdom, guidance, and free food.
Charles and Hud, for being my real-life happily ever after.
My friends and family for encouragement and support that goes above and beyond the call of duty.
Readers, for being kind with praise, generous with subject-matter expertise (a/k/a smutty .gifs), and for trusting me with two very valuable things—time and money. Believe it or not, I try really hard not to be a waste of either.
About the Author
Wine lover, sleep fanatic, and USA Today Bestselling Author of sexy contemporary romance novels, Samanthe Beck lives in Malibu, California, with her long-suffering but extremely adorable husband and their turbo-son. Throw in a furry ninja named Kitty and Bebe the trash talking Chihuahua and you get the whole, chaotic picture.
When not dreaming up fun, fan-your-cheeks sexy ways to get her characters to happily-ever-after, she searches for the perfect cabernet to pair with Ambien.
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Also by Samanthe Beck…
Private Practice
Falling for the Enemy
Light Her Fire
Lover Undercover
Falling for the Marine
Wicked Games
Best Man with Benefits
Compromising Her Position
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