Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “Apparently not as nervous as you are.” Ryan stared at his uniform. This would be first time he wore it since the day of the accident. That day would forever be marked in his heart; he almost lost everything that day. “This is stupid, Matt. My leg is in a cast, I can barely move around without help. What makes you think I want to go to this stupid party wearing my jersey?”

  He looked down at the stiff brace that was supposed to free him to him walk around without crutches while still protecting his healing leg. He hated feeling so inadequate. “I just got out of surgery.”

  “It wasn’t such a big surgery and that was four weeks ago. Besides, all they did was take some of your bone marrow. And before you say it, you are not going to use Riley as an excuse.” Matt waved his finger sternly at him. “He’s already out there, giving the guys hell.”

  “My wife is pregnant, and she can’t handle a party.”

  “Funny, I think she’s looking forward to the party. She was the first one at the barbeque.”

  “She’s pregnant,” his lips parted into a slow, proud smile, “with twins.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. You are the best stud this side of the equator.” Matt rolled his eyes. “But, uh, apart from the physical stuff, how are things between you guys?”

  “I think she loves me; I know I love her. She knows I love her. Why else would I drive in front of a truck?” Ryan felt an ache in his soul that no amount of drugs and physical therapy would help. The fear of losing his family still haunted him. He would wake up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares, only to have Kennedy calm him down. She had been his strength and his source of comfort. But he was still waiting for her to admit that she loved him.

  “Have you told her that?”

  “Yes, at the championship party before a truck almost flattened me,” he teased. “What I did to her in high school was wrong. What we did in high school was wrong, man. Being popular and accepted wasn’t worth what we did to those girls.”

  “I was there too, Ry. I feel terrible.” Matt dropped down on the sofa. “But she’s forgiven us. I look at your family and I can’t help but feel jealous. You have a wife, a son, and twins on the way. I have my Ferrari to go home to.”

  Ryan stretched out his leg as it began to throb again. “Alright, you didn’t just come here to convince me to throw a birthday party, did you?”

  “Actually, I just have some endorsement contracts for you to sign. I was hoping you wouldn’t be opposed to doing a commercial with your crutches.”

  He sighed. “Forget about it. Contracts are for another day. Today, we eat cake.”

  • • •

  It had been two weeks since the party, and Ryan had finally gotten his brace off that morning. Ryan knew exactly how he wanted this night to go. He also knew he wanted it to end with Kennedy in his bed. Today, he was closing the world out and focusing on just him and Kennedy. He had even sent Riley to Rebecca, hoping that allowing her to spend time with her grandson would prove that he wasn’t such a monster.

  He had set up catering, ordering food, non-alcoholic wine to be served by waiters. He even had a tuxedo on, and had laid a dress out for Kennedy. This was going to be a night out of the pages of a romance novel. Ryan shifted his weight around, trying not to exhaust his healing leg. The doctor told him not to overdo it. It was a good thing the only thing he was going to overdo didn’t require him to be on his feet. When he heard the front door open, he felt his heart shoot from his chest and into his throat.

  “What’s going on?” Kennedy asked, as she slowly walked into the room, her feet carefully skirting the rose petals that littered the floor. “I hope you know how to use a vacuum cleaner.”

  Ryan laughed. If Kennedy had said anything else, she wouldn’t have been his Kennedy. “I thought that we should have a romantic night. Just the two of us.”

  “The four of us you mean,” she said, as her hand rubbed over her growing belly.

  Ryan stared at her stomach, imagining how his babies must look now. They would be beautiful, he knew that. As beautiful as their mother. “Well, we can’t really tell them to leave can we?”

  Kennedy laughed and the sound of it squeezed his heart like a fist. “No, I guess not.”

  “I thought we could have dinner and music, and maybe we could talk about us.”

  Kennedy nodded, not moving from where she stood. She looked around the room and Ryan appreciated the awe in her eyes. At least they were getting off to a good start.

  “Alright then, but first of all, lose the jacket and the bow tie. We both know you have that monkey suit. Then, let’s move this to the family room. We can sit on the rug in front of the fireplace. Then, and this is not up for discussion, lose the wait staff.”

  “I am trying to be romantic!”

  “I just want you to be you, Ryan. And romance is in the tiny details.” Kennedy walked towards him and put her hand on his chest. “You are my husband. I’d think you were romantic and a major turn-on even if you were covered in dirt from head to toe.”

  “Are you sure you just want me, without the dirt?” Ryan wondered how the hell he had managed to snag a woman who knew him better than he knew himself. Oh, right. He got her pregnant. Twice.

  “When are you ever going to see how special you are?” Her whispered tone was full of endearment.

  “I see it now, in your eyes. The way you look at me, the way you smile at me. You make me feel like I’m more than I’m worth.”

  “And what are you worth, Ryan Carville?”

  “What am I worth to you?” he asked, confused.

  Kennedy shook her head. “To yourself. What are you worth to yourself?”

  “I don’t know.” He answered honestly. No one had ever asked him that.

  “Well, I know you are worth everything in my eyes, in our son’s eyes. I know that—” he watched as Kennedy swallowed hard, her eyes misty, “I know that you are worth our children’s love and…and my love.”

  Ryan felt like he could have been knocked over by a feather at that point. Who said a man couldn’t have everything he wanted in the time span of a second? “Get out, all of you,” he shouted to the caterers. And once the house was empty, he pulled Kennedy into his arms and kissed her senseless.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked in between kisses, praying that she would say no.

  “I’m eating for three. I’m always hungry!” Ryan stepped back with a disappointed frown, and she laughed. “But I think the babies can wait for a few minutes. I think it’s important for Mommy to play with Daddy for a while.”

  Ryan growled his approval as he lifted Kennedy into his arms and walked to the family room, his lips never leaving hers. He lay her down on the rug and watched as the light of the embers danced on her ebony features. Her hair spread over the white rug like a halo around her face. Ryan just wanted to look at her, as if he was staring at the Mona Lisa. He kissed her palm as her fingers stroked his face.

  Ryan moved on top of her, his fingers caressing her belly. He lowered his head to her midsection and kissed her rounded stomach. He wanted to take Kennedy so bad, but he worried he would hurt his babies. He didn’t know if he had the restraint to pace himself. It had been so long since he had made love to Kennedy and he didn’t think he would be able to take his time.

  “It’s alright,” she said, knowing instinctively what he needed once again. “I won’t break. I promise.”

  • • •

  “Marry me.” Ryan whispered into her throat as he cuddled into her side afterwards.

  “What?”

  “I want you to marry me.” Ryan lifted his head to look down at her. Kennedy looked ravished and completely sated. He felt proud as his ego congratulated him for a job well done.

  “I’m not sure how much alcohol you consumed before I arrived, but we are married. That’s why people keep on calling me Mrs. Carville,” she teased.

  “A little chapel on the road in Vegas, with Elvis as the officiate is not a wedding. We have done everything back
wards since the beginning,” he said. “We are married but we didn’t have a wedding really. I want us to invite our family and friends. I want us to get married in a church.”

  “Are you sure? It would mean our mothers’ planning it.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m pregnant. I’ll drive you crazy with the details.”

  “I don’t mind being driven crazy.”

  “You don’t huh?”

  Ryan scooted next to her and pulled her into his arms. “You belong to me. You are my other half. My own angel. Marry me, please. Again.”

  She smiled, happy at last. “Sure, why not?”

  Epilogue

  Kennedy paced around the large family room, her stomach in knots. Ryan was supposed to be cleared to play today. He had missed the first few games because his collarbone wasn’t ready. And at the end of yesterday’s practice his shoulder was monstrously red and unbearably painful. She had spent the whole night trying to ice it down. It was a good thing she didn’t need much sleep. Ever since the babies were born, twin girls Robyn and Riley (to satisfy her mother), she didn’t need that much sleep.

  Now she paced, her fingers crossed a prayer on her lips as she hoped that Ryan would be able to play today. She didn’t think she could handle another disappointed frown this night. RJ had gone to the stadium with both his father and grandfather. Elizabeth and Rebecca were with her, each with a baby in their arms.

  “Kennedy, you are making me dizzy! Sit down.”

  Kennedy sat on the floor, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. “I’m so worried mama.”

  “He’ll play. I know my son,” Elizabeth said confidently. “Now we should discuss some things about the wedding.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth, but I don’t really care about that right now.” Kennedy’s breath hitched when the game started on television. She held her breath as the Rebels made their way into the stadium. She leaned forward, waiting to see the Carville jersey. Kennedy jumped to her feet and danced around as Ryan was introduced as he jogged onto the field. “He’s playing! Oh, thank God,” she said, and then leaned forward to turn off the television. “Now we can plan the wedding.”

  “Don’t you want to watch the game?” Elizabeth asked, stunned.

  “Of course not. My nerves are already shot. I can’t watch him get hit around.” Kennedy scoffed then smiled. “I’m proud of my Rebel though.”

  Trouble Brewing

  An Emerald Springs Legacy Sampler

  Monica Tillery

  Holley Trent

  Elley Arden

  Nicole Flockton

  Robyn Neeley

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2014 by Monica Tillery, Holley Trent, Elley Arden, Nicole Flockton, and Robyn Neeley.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-8098-7

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8098-7

  Cover art ©Adam Ward/123RF

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Trouble Brewing

  Trouble Brewing

  New Year’s Eve, Twenty Years Ago

  “Happy New Year!” Richard Whitman raised his flute in a toast. His wife, Sheila, stood by his side, beaming at all their friends and family.

  Joe Sanders stuffed a mini-quiche into his mouth and planted his elbows onto the high cocktail table. “What’s so happy about it?”

  His wife, Rebecca, flushing an unhealthy shade reminiscent of a certain purple dinosaur, groaned and covered her eyes. “Joe, not now.”

  “Why not now? I’m sick and tired of his games. We’re partners. Fifty/fifty.” He turned to Richard. “Come on. You told us you’d share this big plan of yours at the stroke of midnight. Let’s hear it.”

  Richard’s eyes twinkled as he grabbed hold of Sheila, bringing her close by his side. “You’re drinking it.”

  Joe eyed the flute in his hand, staring suspiciously at the tan liquid. It was the strangest champagne he’d ever seen, with no bubbles and… was that a leaf floating near the stem? Yet another new-fangled concoction Richard wanted them to try, no doubt.

  As rural farmers, they made a pretty decent living running WhitSand Farm in Emerald Springs, Washington. Richard was always quick to push new technologies and greener operations down Joe’s throat, something Joe didn’t always agree with, preferring more traditional ways of farming.

  Not once did he ever mention any interest in moving in a direction that involved selling alcohol. Why would they mix their business model up now and start producing champagne? Weird champagne at that.

  And who the hell did Richard think he was making this kind of decision without him?

  Typical. Ever since their college days, Richard had to be the big man—making all the decisions. Well, this wasn’t some fraternity. His days of calling the shots were over. Joe owned just as much of WhitSand Farm as Richard, yet he always seemed to come up with the short stick. Well, not this time.

  He picked up his flute and waved it in the air. “Over my dead body will you make this decision without me!”

  Rebecca tugged on his arm. “I think it’s time to leave. I’ll go wake Colleen and Jacob.”

  Richard grinned. “Just drink it.”

  “Fine.” Joe tilted his glass, and swallowed the drink back, then immediately spat it out. What kind of champagne was this? Great, his business partner wanted to sell bubbly that didn’t even taste good. Brilliant. It seemed his old friend had lost his ever-freakin’ mind.

  Rebecca sipped her drink and glanced over at Sheila. “Is this…?”

  Sheila nodded. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’ll go help you with the kids.”

  “Alright. Will someone please tell me what the hell is in this?” Joe demanded.

  Richard grinned and slapped him on the back. “It’s tea, my dear friend, and it’s going to make us a mint.”

  • • •

  “What the hell? Tea? Have you completely lost your business sense, Richard? There’s nothing wrong with the traditional farming we’re doing. Everyone needs potatoes and apples. Good stable foods.” Joe went to take another sip of the concoction in his hand. It didn’t taste any better the second time around. “Besides people in the US are coffee drinkers; tea is for pansies. Why would we expand into something so risky?

  “Because, Joe,” Richard replied patiently and Joe could hear the condescension. Why did Richard never listen to him, always treating him like the poor relation in their partnership? “We need to expand if we want to succeed. I also think we need to go organic in our growing techniques. That’s where the future lies.”

  Joe shook his head, but before he could protest, Richard nodded and continued. “Mark my words: In twenty years, everyone will want produce that has been organically grown, and tea is where we’re going to start. Then we’ll expand the orchards and other crops. We will be the leaders in good, healthy food.”

  Organic? What the heck was organic? Not more of that “green” stuff he kept pushing in his face. Now Richard really was talking out of his ass.

  “Now I know you’ve lost your mind, Richard. Organic? I think drinking this tea has made you soft,” he sneered. “We’re making a good living with what we’re doing. Why would you want to jeopardize everything we’ve worked for, everything we discussed when we formed our partnership, for a shot in the dark?”

  “Come on, Joe. You’ve heard the rumors around the farming community; talk of genetically modifying how we grow things. I can’t do that. No, I won’t do that to our crops and m
y family. The time to expand is now.”

  Joe frowned, still skeptical in the face of Richard’s boundless enthusiasm. “How can you even grow tea up here? It’s too rainy and damp,” he waved a hand dismissively. “It’ll never work.”

  Richard sighed. “Always such an optimist, my friend.” He clapped Joe on the shoulder. “Look, you know I wouldn’t suggest it without doing my research. We can make this work. And once we do? The possibilities are endless! If we get in on this at the ground floor, what we’re making now will be pittance in comparison to what we could be making.”

  Joe looked at his friend, and for the first time in their friendship, he wondered if he really knew Richard at all. They’d had the same vision when they’d first discussed it in college. Build farms on adjoining properties and form a partnership that would make their farms the best in the district—and they had done it the good, old-fashioned way. Joe saw no reason to change what was working so well.

  Rebecca returned to the room with a sleepy Colleen and Jacob. It was time to go. Joe put his glass down on the table. “Look, Richard, I think you’ve had too much tea. Let’s talk tomorrow when you’ve got your wits about you.”

  “Oh trust me, Joe, my stance isn’t going to change. I’m going to make you see just how much sense this new direction makes.”

  “Not likely,” Joe muttered under his breath. He walked over to Sheila and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “’Night, Sheila, and thanks for a lovely evening. Let’s go, Rebecca.”

  Joe gathered Colleen close, and his daughter wrapped her arms around him and cuddled in tight. He loved his baby girl, and he wouldn’t let her down by not being true to himself or his beliefs.

  No matter what happened tomorrow, there was no way Joe was going to go along with Richard’s cockamamie plan. For too long he’d let Richard have his way.

  Not this time.

  There was no way he was going to let Richard change the direction of farm.