“Fuck,” I curse myself as I break into a full run to chase her down. She makes it half-way up the hill before I grab her from behind and spin her around in my arms. Her breaths are ragged and her olive skin flushes. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
A tear streams down her cheek. “I don’t get you, Noel. Is music so important to you that’d you’d throw everything we have away to get it?”
I shake my head, but I know it would be a difficult choice. “No. You’re all that matters to me.”
“Then show me,” she whispers.
I wipe away her tears with my thumbs before I press my lips to hers. “I will.”
Chapter 4
One Year Later—Graduation Night…
NOEL
There are at least ten parties going on tonight, and we’re going to make our rounds, but first, Lane wants me to meet her on the dock for a private celebration. I grin to myself knowing this will be the last night we have to hide in order to have sex. This time tomorrow Lane and I will be out on the open road, making our way with no solid plan, going in whatever direction the music takes us.
I know she has her doubts. She expresses them nearly everyday, but I know she doesn’t really mean them. Once I get her out on the road everything will be fine. I just have to prove it to her that I can make it as a musician. I want her to be proud of me.
She’s already waiting for me at the end of the dock. Her long brown hair falls in waves around her shoulders. The loose strands blow idly in the light breeze coming in off the lake. A tight jean skirt and cream color shirt accentuates the deep tan she’s already gotten even though it’s only the beginning of summer. My girl is so damn beautiful. I’m a very lucky guy.
Excitement overtakes me and I rush down and scoop her up in my arms, lifting her off the ground. “We did it, babe. Can you believe it?”
She laughs in my arms. “I’m so proud of you, Noel.”
I nuzzle my nose into her hair. “Not as proud as I am of you. You aced every single test they threw at you. You’re a fucking geniuses. When I become a famous rock star, I’ll pay for your tuition—anywhere you want to go.”
“Noel—”
I cut her off, not allowing her a chance to argue with me. “Anywhere. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Lane frowns. “I can’t let you do that.”
I furrow my brow. “Of course you can. You’ll deserve it. It’ll make the little bit of struggle we have to go through at first totally worth it.”
“Noel—” I cut her off again while I go on about the fancy house and cars I’m going to buy her, and she pushes on my chest.
I frown and set her on her feet. “What’s wrong?”
Her delicate fingers rub her forehead before running through her hair. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”
I trail my hand up the bare skin on her arm and then stop when it reaches a strand of her hair. I wrap it around of my finger suddenly nervous about what she has to say. There’s a slight quiver in her voice, and that’s never a good sign. That only happens to her when she’s nervous, and there’s not one thing she should be nervous to tell me.
I lick my lips. “Whatever it is, just tell me. We’ll get through it together.”
Lane shakes her head. “This time we won’t.”
I take her face in my hands and force her to look into my eyes. “Lane, you’re not making any sense.”
She closes her eyes. “This is so hard.”
I feel her tense under my touch as a tear falls down her face and my heart falls to the pit of my stomach. Lane never cries and it’s something I can’t stand to see. “Please don’t cry. Baby, I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
She opens her green eyes and stares at me, her eyes searching my face for answers. “Don’t leave tomorrow.”
I flinch. “The way you just said that makes it sound like I’ll be leaving by my self.”
“You will be if you go,” she whispers.
I shake my head. “No. You promised you were going with me.”
“I can’t go with you, Noel.”
I drop my hands from her face. “What do you mean, you can’t? We talked about this since freshman year.”
“Exactly,” she cries. “We had no clue what we were talking about back then. Things change, Noel. I don’t know why this is such a huge shock to you. I’ve been telling you for the last year that I want to go to college.”
“I didn’t think you were serious. Damn, Lane. Why are you waiting until just now to tell me this? We had a plan.”
“You had a plan. Not me. Not one time have you asked me what I wanted!”
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “Yes I have.”
“No. No you haven’t. Have you heard anything I said about going to college and living in a dorm?”
“I heard you. I just didn’t think you were serious.” I sigh. “I can’t believe you’d pick going to college over being with me.”
“That’s the same way I feel every time you pick music over me.”
“I never pick music over you!”
“No? If I won’t go with you, are you going to go anyway?” she challenges.
“Yes! Because that’s been our plan,” I raise my voice, completely frustrated by this blindside. “Music is my fucking life. You know that. It’s all I have.”
“You had me.” Lane bites her plump, bottom lip as forces a cry back. “Then this is the end for us.”
My heart squeezes so hard in my chest that panic starts setting in. “Please, Lane. Don’t do this.”
She kisses my cheek. “Goodbye, Noel.”
My body turns completely numb as she turns and runs away from me. I should pull it together and go after her and force her to understand and try harder at convincing her to come with me, but I can’t move. The idea that Lanie Vance is no longer mine hits me hard and I drop to my knees, shaking uncontrollably. I grab my hair in my hands and allow myself to cry for the loss of the only girl I’ll ever really love.
THE END
About the Author
Michelle A. Valentine
Michelle A. Valentine is a Central Ohio nurse turned New York Times & USA Today bestselling author of erotic and New Adult romance. Her love of hard-rock music, tattoos, and sexy musicians inspired her erotic BLACK FALCON series.
Represented by Jill Marsal of Marsal Lyon Literary Agency
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/michelle.valentine.7923?fref=ts
Twitter: @M_A_Valentine
Blog: http://michelleavalentine.blogspot.com/p/about-me.html
The Marriage Clause
By
Nikki Worrell
©Copyright 2013 Nikki Worrell ~ All rights reserved
Chapter One
Carrie McDermott’s great Uncle Smitty was a cranky old man. He was what you might call the black sheep of the family. Smitty didn’t have much to do with any of them, but for some reason, he tolerated Carrie, and she in turn loved the old coot.
No one understood what it was, exactly, that he liked about her. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a perfectly nice child, but what was it about her that made her more tolerable to him than anyone else in the family? In the beginning, the family had tried inviting him to visit during the holidays, but he always said he had too much work to do to be able to get away. Carrie had only met him a handful of times, but at the age of ten, she asked to go visit him. Shocking everyone, he said “fine”.
Carrie and her family lived in hot, humid Tampa Bay, Florida while Smitty lived in Lincoln, Montana where the population was just over one thousand. His one hundred and sixty acre property was beautifully located with a backdrop of snow capped mountains. Smitty was a rancher who bred Morgan horses. They were beautiful creatures. He would prefer to be with them over humans seven days a week and twice on Sunday. Except for Carrie.
Carrie’s visits to Uncle Smitty became a yearly event until it was time for her to go off to college.
Even then, she kept in touch with him via e-mail and occasional phone calls (which really weren’t very productive). When she finished her degree in interior design, the first thing she did was take some time off to visit him.
They spent the better part of that summer together, Smitty just as cranky as ever.
“Why do you always come back here, girl? Ain’t you got someone else to bother?” Smitty was always saying things like that. It didn’t bother Carrie though. She knew he was a softy underneath his gruff exterior.
“Aw, Uncle Smitty, now don’t go gettin’ all sentimental on me.” With a wink in his direction, Carrie turned to take the apple pie out of the oven she had baked with apples harvested from the tree behind the house. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour. Why don’t you go make sure the horses were put to rest for the night and then grab a whiskey while you wait? I hear your favorite rocker out there on the porch callin’ to ya.” Smitty liked to hear Carrie sounding like the locals. Her normal speech was too stuffy. It only took a couple of days back on the ranch for Carrie to sound like a local. He knew she only did it for him though.
“Well, I’ll say one thing for ya, girl. You know what an old man needs at the end of a long day.” That was about as close to an “I love you” as she was likely to ever get.
Smitty showed his love for her in other ways. When he came back from town, she would notice a bouquet of daisies on the table in a mason jar. He knew they were her favorite flowers, and she knew better than to thank him for them. Little gifts like that would show up from time to time. When she did dare mention them, he’d just humph and walk away.
Carrie noticed on her last trip out there that he was a bit slower than he’d been. Admittedly, he was getting up there in age although no one knew exactly how old he was. She guessed he was somewhere between seventy-five and eighty-five years old. His ranch hands had been taking on more of the day to day operations giving Smitty more time to rest, and they did a fine job at it. Most of them had been there for ten plus years. His foreman, George, had been there almost twenty years.
After a dinner of pot roast, potatoes and corn bread, Carrie took their dessert out to the porch. It was a beautiful Montana night. Stars didn’t look the same in Florida as they did there. It just seemed like there were a million more in the Montana skies. It was getting cooler, so Carrie covered Smitty up with a blanket.
“I don’t need no blanket. Why you treatin’ me like an old man all the sudden like?” She really wasn’t. She’d brought a blanket out for herself too.
“Fine. Give it here Uncle. I’ll use both of them.” She knew he wouldn’t really let her take it, and she was right. He tugged it back with a grumble, almost dropping his pie.
“I’ll keep the dang blanket, girl. Sit down and eat your pie. It’s good.”
“Such glowing praise, Uncle Smitty! Thank you!” She earned a lip curl for her sass. As far as she knew, she was the only one who could make him ‘smile’.
“So what are you gonna do with that fancy degree you got? You gonna move to the big city or somethin’? Hang around all those well to do artsy fartsy folks?” Smitty was real proud of Carrie. He knew she’d be successful no matter where she went; he just wished she appreciated the beauty of Montana and his ranch a bit more. He knew she loved it there, just not enough for his liking.
Carrie shrugged her shoulders in answer to his questions. The truth was she wasn’t exactly sure where she was going to go. She knew she wouldn’t be returning to Florida. If she wanted to rub elbows with the rich and famous, New York or Los Angeles were the obvious choices, but she really couldn’t see herself either of those places. She hoped that she would know where she wanted to go by the time she went home to visit her parents at the end of the summer.
It was nearing the end of August when she left Uncle Smitty’s, and it was a little harder leaving than the last time she left after a visit. Carrie wasn’t comfortable leaving with him looking less than his usual hale and hearty self. He insisted he was “just fine”, of course. That was the last time she ever spoke to him. He died peacefully in his sleep that very night.
Chapter Two
A week after Uncle Smitty’s passing, Carrie was back in Lincoln to take care of his burial arrangements. It was then that she learned he had left her everything. Not one other family member received a thing. His entire estate was hers. He had also left her a letter.
Carrie,
I know I was a miserable old coot. And I know you loved me. Even though I never said it, I think you knowed that I loved you back. None of those other people you’re related to are worth nuthin’, but you’re worth everythin’. Don’t you ever forget it, girl.
I know you got that fancy degree in decoratin’ or some such thing, but I want you to think about keepin’ the ranch. The hands know what to do for now, and you can learn it with some time. I know you love Montana; it’s in your blood now.
I also sent a letter to a friend of mine a ways back. I ain’t been feelin’ quite right for a while now and wanted to prepare. He’s got a right nice son who needs a ranch to run. His Papa about run his own ranch into the ground cause he wouldn’t never listen to Colt. What the hell kinda man names his son after a horse anyway?
Colt’s gonna come teach you the ropes. Trust him. He knows what he’s about, girl. That attorney there is gonna give you all my money too. You’ll never have to work if you don’t want to. If you really want to sell the ranch, I’ll understand. Aw hell, no I won’t, but I’m dead so who cares?
Well, I said all I’m gonna say. Take care of yourself, girl.
Uncle Smitty
Carrie sat there for a moment with the letter in her hand trying to hold her tears back. Uncle Smitty never had time for sorrow, and she wouldn’t dishonor his memory by giving in to it now. Taking a deep breath, she turned to address Mr. Bolton, Smitty’s attorney.
“Well, I can honestly say that I’m quite shocked. He left me everything? I know he wasn’t close to the family, but this, this just takes some getting used to.” Carrie didn’t go to school to be a rancher! She went to Pratt Institute, the number one ranked school for interior design in the country. But how could she sell Smitty’s beloved ranch?
“I’d suggest taking some time to think about it Ms. McDermott. You’re going through a difficult time. Snap decisions should never be made so closely following a dramatic event.” Mr. Bolton had only seen Smitty a couple of times in person, and even though he could tell that Smitty was a cantankerous old man, he knew he had true affection for his great-niece.
Showing her Smitty’s financial statements was yet another shock to her system. He, well now she, was worth millions. Millions, wow, she never knew he had that kind of money. Mr. Bolton told her the ranch was self sufficient. Smitty never touched the money in his investment accounts. The income from breeding the Morgans was kept in a separate operating account and was all she needed to run the ranch. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was saving the millions for. He never took vacations or bought new cars or anything that she knew of.
“Thank you Mr. Bolton. I think for now I’ll just go back to the ranch and let this all soak in. My parents are leaving tomorrow morning, but I’m going to stay until I figure out what to do.” She shook his hand as she made her way to the door. “I hope I can call you with any questions that might arise?”
“Of course you can. I’d be happy to assist you in any way I can. I handled your uncle’s affairs for years. He didn’t have much use for me, but when he did we worked along just fine.” He was glad she wasn’t immediately going home. Hopefully spending time thinking about the ranch would make her want to stay and keep Smitty’s ranch intact. Lord knew there were plenty of developers who would love to get a hold of that land. He needed to warn her about that. “One more thing, Ms. McDermott. I just wanted you to be aware that the vultures will start ringing the doorbell as soon as they hear of your uncle’s passing. Developers have been trying to get that land forever.”
Hearing that, she
stood up ram rod straight and informed him that would never happen. “I’ll keep it myself before I allow some developer to go in there and put up a strip mall!”
Well, Mr. Bolton thought, maybe the ranch isn’t lost after all.
Chapter Three
When Carrie got back to the ranch, all hell broke loose.
“What do you mean you’re going to stay out here for a while? You can sell this place for millions, Carrie. Millions! Let’s sell it and split the money amongst the family.” Carrie couldn’t say she was ever particularly close with her parents. That was one of the reasons she picked a New York college to go to.
“I’m not just going to sell Uncle Smitty’s ranch without thinking it through, Mother. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”
“What’s fair got to do with it? He’s gone; you can do what you want. I never could understand how you could stand to be around that man. He was my father’s brother, and I can’t think of one time he was ever nice to me.” Granted, she wasn’t nice to him either, but still. “Just sell it, write us all checks and be done with it.”
Her father, thus far, was staying out of the discussion. At the sound of getting his hands on some money however, he spoke up. “I think your mother’s right about this one, Carrie. What do you know about running a ranch? Sure you learned how to ride and clean out stalls, but what do you know about the business side? What are you going to do here, just redecorate the place or something? That’s what you know how to do. You can’t run a big business like this. You should just stick with what you know.”
Stories for Amanda Page 35