Jar of Hearts: (Family Stone, # 5 Keisha and Shane) (Family Stone Romantic Suspense)

by Lisa Hughey

  Shane pulled up across from his duplex. There was quick access to the beach path here.

  “I love this beach.” Keisha exited the car, tossed her heels on the passenger seat, and headed for the shoreline.

  Shane smiled as she barreled down the path and onto the sand. She stretched her arms toward the sky, tilted her head back, and lifted her face to the cool afternoon sun.

  After he removed his own socks and shoes, he followed her onto the beach. “You like the ocean?”

  “No duh, why do you think I joined the Navy?”

  Shane’s laugh rumbled through him, happy to see her former sass back. Just because he loved her sweet didn’t mean he didn’t want that sass too.

  He picked her up and twirled her around like she was a little kid.

  “What are you doing, you nut. Put me down,” she demanded but her face was wreathed in a big smile.

  Shane whirled her around one more time, then gently settled her on her feet. He turned her so she faced the sea and wrapped his arms around her waist. Then he rested his chin on her shoulder.

  The waves crashed against a collection of large rocks about thirty feet out. Sea lions bellowed and seagulls squawked as wind whipped through the corridor and white sea foam crashed against the brown sand. Long strings of kelp lay in ropes on the beach, and the salty briny sea perfumed the air.

  They stood there in silence, both seemingly hesitant to interrupt the feeling of communion. Shane felt a peace settle over him. Sweet and sass and the ability to recognize the need for a quiet moment. “I never get tired of this view.”

  “You come here often?”

  “I live across the street.”

  She turned around and peered at his duplex. The houses were close together, sacrificing some privacy for the view, but he didn’t care.

  “Wow.”

  “Not as fancy as Jack’s.”

  “Nothing’s as fancy as Jack’s house,” she said drily.

  She stared back at the house. At the two doorways next to each other. “Who lives on the other side?” Her gaze shot to him, eyes wide as if she already knew.

  “My mama.” It had been one of the proudest moments of his life when he’d been able to give his mother a home.

  “Doesn’t that get a little restrictive when you have…friends over?”

  “Why are you being so polite?” he growled. “Just ask what you want to.”

  “Okay, screw polite.” Keisha tossed her head. “Isn’t uncomfortable when you have women sleep over?”

  “No it’s never been restrictive because I don’t invite women to my home.” Shane curled his palms around her shoulders to keep her attention on him. “Ever.”

  “Oh.” She pressed her lips together and tried to shift away from him, turn around to face the sea again.

  She wasn’t getting it. He was going to have to lay it all on the line and hope she didn’t crush him. Because he had hope. More than he’d ever had. He’d never wanted a woman, in every aspect, the way he wanted Keisha.

  “So, you want to come inside?”

  “Me?” Keisha held very still as if listening to some internal voice. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I should probably get going.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t believe I stuttered.” Keisha snarked at him. “I should get going.”

  “You’re refusing my invitation.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get over it.” Keisha broke his light hold and headed toward the car. “By tonight would be my guess.”

  Shane didn’t get angry. Ever. Someone his size always had to be in control or bad things could happen but he was seriously close to losing it now. Shane grabbed her arm, stopped her in her tracks, forced her to turn and look at him.

  What he wanted to do was crush his mouth to hers and grind her into submission with sex. But that was a temporary solution to the larger problem. He could probably get her to stay at his house for a few hours but once they’d slaked their sexual hunger, he’d be right back in the same position. Trying to convince her to take a chance on him.

  “Believe in me. Believe in us.” Shane wasn’t used to begging, ever, but for this strong woman, he had to make her listen. “Take a chance. I promise to try to never let you down.”

  She rolled her eyes. She didn’t believe.

  Shane knew he was going to have to lay it all on the line. Have to show her a side of himself that no one had ever seen. He had to put it out there because he couldn’t imagine a day without her in it. “You once asked me why I used to play the field.”

  He hoped she’d catch the past tense.

  “My mother never got over losing my dad. It was easier and safer to keep it light, surface, temporary.” Shane knew that wasn’t going to be enough. It was all or nothing. He took a deep breath. So many had let Keisha down, he figured he needed to be completely honest and he needed to show her the vulnerability that had lived in his heart for years.

  Shane took another deep breath then plunged. “Forever comes with a lot of pain.”

  Keisha’s heart thundered against her breastbone. It had not escaped her attention that Shane had said, he used to play the field. Did that mean he was stopping? And how could she ever trust that?

  But his seeming sincerity tugged at her. “What does forever have to do with me?” She had to ask. Had to.

  “You make me want to try forever. And I’m ready to risk it.”

  “Why are you doing this? Can’t you let this little fling die a normal death?” She shot the questions at him to cover her own terror. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe they could have forever. But there hadn’t been a whole lot of forever in her life. Actually there had never been anything close to forever.

  “You…infuriate me.”

  “That’s a good reason to break your pattern for the last thirty eight years.” The sass was back and she couldn’t help the pang of hurt because that wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear.

  Wait no, that wasn’t right. She didn’t want to hear any reason that convinced her to take a chance on him. Even though she wanted that chance, with every breath in her body, and every stupid hope in her heart, she wanted to take a chance on him. On them.

  “You invigorate me. You inspire me to be a better man than I am. You turn me on. You got me to have sex with you in the back of my freaking car.”

  She flushed and a deep rose spread over her cheeks.

  “I’ve never even been tempted and there I am twisted into a pretzel with my pants around my thighs and you laid out beneath me like a gift.”

  “So we have sexual chemistry,” she said, still trying to stop him.

  “I love how sweet you get when you’re looking out for someone. I love that gooey, soft center that you cover up with tough.” Her gooey soft center was melting at his sweet words and it was getting harder and harder to resist him.

  “Well that center doesn’t appear too often.”

  “I know, but I love watching for it.”

  Keisha wanted to believe him, but what about a week from now? A month from now? When the new and fantasy had worn off and he was sick of her. “I’m rarely sweet. I’d just as soon kick your ass.”

  “I love your sass. I love your drive. I love how you kicked Wallaston’s ass today.” Shane continued, “I love how you were ready to go to war with Jack over that donation. I love that you were looking out for me.”

  “I’m sure you’d get tired of that sass right quick,” she countered.

  “I love you,” he roared.

  As the surprise confession burst from him in a rush, he knew it was true. He’d fallen for this crazy, sweet, hot, sassy woman. And while the idea was scary as hell, he didn’t want to walk away. He wanted her. Forever.

  Keisha blinked, her mouth in a rounded O of surprise. To be truthful, he’d surprised himself.

  Keisha’s heart was thundering in her chest. The words had burst from him like uncontrollable emotional vomit. And she knew in that moment, he meant them. But how lon
g would that love last before he was tired of her?

  “Keish. Trust in me,” he said, if he knew exactly what she was thinking. “You trusted me earlier.”

  He was right. In that conference room, he could have rushed Wallaston. Instead he trusted Keisha to do her thing and she had trusted him to let her.

  “I won’t let you down.” Shane vowed.

  “Don’t you think you’ll get tired of just me? You’re a player.” But she said the words like a shield. Even she wasn’t sure she believed them anymore.

  Shane thought about his mother. “My mother told me a long time ago, that she may not have had my father for long but he made such an impact that no one else has ever come close to making her feel the same way.”

  “Your mother was extremely lucky then.”

  And Shane realized in that instant that he hadn’t been avoiding love, he’d just never found anyone who made a big enough impact. “I listened to those words, Keisha. But now I’ve found you. You’re my impact.”

  “Oh.” Keisha’s body softened against his. And a joy thundered in his chest. He had her. “That’s so…sweet.”

  Shane held his breath. He knew from their past discussions about life and their own viewpoints that their relationship wasn’t going to be perfect. But they’d have plenty of time to get it right.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  “Okay…?”

  “You going to show me your home or what?” With her hand propped on her hip and her curls brushing her shoulder, the sass was back. And he knew what she really meant was she loved him too.

  ***

  Thank you for reading Shane and Keisha’s story, Jar of Hearts! I hope you loved getting to know these characters just as much as I have. If you did enjoy this novella, below are a few ways you can help a writer out!!

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  Author’s Note

  Welcome to the world of the Stone Family siblings, Jess, Connor, Riley and Jack. I hope you loved getting to know the Stone siblings as much as I did. In the course of writing the four interconnected novellas, I developed quite an affection for both Keisha, who we meet in Stone Cold Heart, and Shane who we meet in Heart of Stone. And then we get to know both of them a little better in Still The One.

  Jar of Hearts was supposed to be a short story of the relationship between Keisha Johnson, an employee at GHR and Stone Consulting, and Shane Washington, the on call pilot for the company.

  But Keisha and Shane wouldn’t let me alone and their story blossomed into a novella. The Food for Life food bank is fictional but the information and details about the operations and the distribution is similar to my local food bank where my family has volunteered for the past few years.

  About Lisa

  Lisa Hughey has been writing romance since the fourth grade, which was also about the time she began her love affair with spies. Harriet and Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys later gave way to James Bond and Lara Croft and Jason Bourne. Exploring the complex nature of a profession that requires subterfuge and lies fascinates her. She loves combining her two passions into fiction. As evidenced by her Black Cipher Files series.

  Archangel Rafe was her first foray into the paranormal but after spending time in the Angelic Realm, it won’t be her last. At their heart, the Seven novels are about the dynamics of family relationships. But the really hot Archangels don’t hurt.

  And recently she’s been immersed in the Stone Family novellas, four stories about a blended family of brothers and sister who have a lot more in common than they realize. But of course she couldn’t just write about family and romance. There are complex plots, bad guys, and suspense too.

  Lisa loves to hear from readers and has various places you can connect with her, although, shh, Twitter is her favorite.

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  Excerpt from Stone Cold Heart

  Family Stone #1 Jess

  In the early evening dusk, Jess Stone lay on her stomach in the twenty foot high rubble of a demolished church, underneath a black and gray city-scape tarp intended to camouflage her position. A sharp-edged chunk of debris dug into her lower rib cage, the scope of the Remington M24 cool and familiar against her face.

  Her standard uniform of jeans, running shoes, and plain black t-shirt rendered her just another anonymous and transient relief worker…which she was actually. A black baseball cap hid her distinctive multi-hued blonde hair. The paper mask kept out the contaminated dust from the destroyed buildings but did little to stem the overwhelming stench of decaying bodies.

  Tanks rumbled through the destroyed coastal town, their public address system blasting warnings for citizens to stay in their homes, curfew was in effect. The threat was a joke. Ninety percent of the people in the town didn’t have homes left. Those who did were terrified to go back inside. In the fetid, humidity choked air, the tent cities erected in the parks and on the beach were seething masses of the injured and shock struck.

  The substandard construction in the small country had never been enough to withstand the angry might of Mother Nature. Buildings had toppled like a stack of Tinkertoys, and left crumbling cement walls with twisted rebar poking out of the jagged ruins like a skeletal hand.

  Trapped in the concrete pieces that littered the ground, the heat from the tropical day seared through her thin sturdy clothing. The stank of the raw sewage that ran in rivulets through the streets overpowered the salt-laden breeze off the ocean. People, covered with the grit of pulverized buildings and humans, shuffled along with blank vacant stares. Two weeks after the quake, still in shock, their lives decimated first by nature and then kicked and beaten by the ineffectiveness of a flawed relief system. Hundreds of humanitarian agencies had descended on the population duplicating efforts and yet completely missing the need in other areas. The government was ostensibly trying to coordinate the effort, however the mass chaos was undeniable.

  Through the Leupold Ultra M3 fixed power sight, she tracked the movements of Henri LeRoy, leader of this tiny island nation, violator of human rights and dignity, and all around poor excuse for a human being.

  Sickness roiled in her stomach. The power bar she’d eaten for breakfast threatened to add to the rubble pile as she tried to figure out how in the hell she’d ended up here. Back behind a sniper rifle with the power over life and death trembling in the muscles of her right trigger finger.

  Dammit. When she’d decided to take control of her life and quit the FBI, she hadn’t wanted to do this anymore.

  She’d wanted to be a simple relief worker. She’d wanted to connect with her family, brothers and mother.

  But that bitch, fate, had slapped her upside the head and now here she was, where she’d sworn she never wanted to be again. Looking through the scope of a high-powered rifle, with a crystal clear head shot and a murky sense of right and wrong.

  With little fanfare, she could blast LeRoy’s brain matte
r all over the silk-covered walls and the antique Louis the XIV scrolled chairs in the receiving room of his ridiculously elegant weekend mansion which, since built properly, had sustained minimal damage. Her muscles twitched with the knowledge and acceptance that with one slow slide of her finger, the despotic, amoral leader would be history.

  Jess didn’t want to kill him, didn’t want to be directly responsible for another death. She didn’t want this choice. She’d given up this kind of life. She’d left the FBI after a series of high stress cases to get away from the doubt and guilt that had crippled her. To make her own decisions about right and wrong rather than carry out the commands of her bosses.

  But if Henri LeRoy lived, chances were astronomical that many other citizens would die.

  And yeah, she’d probably been manipulated into this. Actually no probably about it. Assassination had not been listed as one of her duties when she’d joined Global Humanitarian Relief. Damn her brother anyway.

  But now all she could do was lay here in the desecrated remains of the former church and hope that her special skill set wouldn’t be needed.

  Fortunately, she was secondary backup.

  And unless several things went horribly wrong, she would break down her weapon, get back to the relief aid encampment, back to actually helping people, and be out of here without ever firing her rifle.

  Then she could hand out seed packets to her heart’s content and figure out what she was going to do next. If she’d stay with GHR and her brothers, or go. First, she had to get through the next two hours.

  But if something did go wrong…she prayed that if she was called upon, she could make the right decision. Make the shot. Cold zero.

  Excerpt from Blowback

  Blowback (bloʹ bak) n. A deadly, unintended consequence of a covert operation.

  Eerie blue light penetrated my consciousness first. The regulated thump-thump of tires pounded in my head, echoing with fierce resonance.

  Where the hell was I? Why did I feel like this? I kept my eyes closed, knowing pretense was paramount to my survival. Wherever I was, it wasn’t normal.

  Ha. My life would never be normal.