But I didn’t forget.
I asked.
He was shady.
And now he was gone again.
I really thought the honeymoon period of my happily ever after would last a little longer.
I decided to give him hell when he got home. But in order to properly give a man hell, a lady had to make sure she looked hot. Hot as in you better watch it because if you don’t treat me right someone else will kind of hot. My heart would never belong to another man, not even if Olly never came back today, but he didn’t need to know all my secrets.
I rushed into the bathroom and took a hot shower. I shaved, I exfoliated, and I did things to my body a man would never even dream of doing to his. Then I lotioned and potioned and styled until I stepped out of the bathroom in a way that if I walked down the street, every man would turn his head. Some would probably even follow.
And then I waited.
I heard the key in the door not too much later, and I smiled, sitting sideways in the armchair with my legs flung over the side and an open magazine in front of my face.
When he walked in, I flipped down one corner and looked at him. “Oh, hey,” I said casually.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s quite the dress.”
“This old thing?” I scoffed and stood, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. I gestured toward the red body-hugging dress I wore. “I found it in the back of my closet.”
“I’m surprised you found your way out of your closet.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“I’m guessing all this is because I’m in trouble,” he said, waving his finger at me.
Damn. “All what?”
He smirked. “Before you give me a lecture—I hate lectures, by the way—why don’t you open your present?”
“Present?” I perked up. Oh, he was good. He got me a present before he got in trouble.
He handed me a white envelope. “What’s this?” I stared down at it.
“The million dollars I owe you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Olly, that was a joke. I hated that job anyway, which you well knew.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just open it.”
I ripped open the seal and slid out a stack of papers. I read the first document, looked up, and reread it again. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me. “Are you— Is this for real?”
He grinned. “Yep. You now are the new owner of the Iced Princess.”
“Holy pink cupcakes!” I exclaimed and threw myself into his arms. I couldn’t believe he bought my favorite place ever. My job was now literally playing with sugar all day long. “Is this why you’ve been acting all shady the past couple days?” I said, bouncing around in his arms. I was just too excited to stand still.
“I was not acting shady. I was acting secretive.”
I pulled back. “But my cupcakes aren’t as good as the ones at the Iced Princess.”
He kissed my cheek. “Yours are better.”
I squealed and hugged him again. “I love you.”
“I know.”
He pulled me back. “Now about that lecture…”
“What lecture?” I batted my eyes.
He scowled. “You thought I was already changing my mind, didn’t you?”
“No. I know you want to be here with me, but I thought maybe you were having second thoughts… maybe a couple regrets. Losing all your abilities and your immortality can be a lot on a guy.”
“A friend once told me something I didn’t really understand until I met you. ‘We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets.’”
“Marilyn Monroe said that.”
He smiled. “She was right. You don’t have to worry about me having second thoughts. I’m not going backward. I’m only going forward. With you.”
I kissed him.
But then I pulled back once more. “You know you really need to tell me what happened with Marilyn Monroe. I want the truth.”
“I can’t tell you all my secrets at once,” he said slyly.
“Well, then it’s a good thing we have an entire lifetime. I have a feeling you’re going to keep me very well entertained.”
This time he kissed me.
Epilogue
“Icing - a sweet glaze made of sugar, butter, water, and egg whites or milk, often flavored and cooked and used to cover or decorate baked goods, such as cakes or cookies.”
Olly
The pink cup slid across the counter toward me and I gave it a dubious stare.
“What’s the matter, Olly?” Frankie taunted from the other side. “Is pink not your color?”
I grinned. “You tell me,” I said and picked it up and took a drink. “Does it match my eyes,” I asked, batting them.
“I knew you were gay,” she muttered.
“That’s not what you said last night.” I wagged my eyebrows at her and a feeling of smugness came over me when her cheeks turned pink.
“Olly, I’m at work,” she hissed.
“Just like last night,” I drawled, pointedly looking behind the counter toward the floor where all the naughty events took place after closing.
“That’s the last time I let you sample my new icing recipe.” She sniffed, her cheeks still pink.
“Give me a cupcake, woman.”
She gave me a surprised look. “You want a cupcake. Something filled with sugar?”
“Someone once told me food should be enjoyed.”
She reached in to pull out the Iced Princess’s signature cupcake. “Oh no you don’t,” I said. “I want one of your creations.”
Her hand moved past the signature one and grabbed up a pink cupcake piled high with white frosting and sprinkles that looked like pearls. Frankie called it “The Marilyn.” She handed it over on a very pink plate and shooed me away from the counter. “You’re holding up my line.”
I took the very girly cupcake, the pink plate, and the pink cup and went to sit at the empty pink table near the back. If a guy wasn’t careful, he might find himself turning into a pansy in this place.
One bite of the cupcake and I forgot about all the pink. My God, she was good at baking. And she was right; food was a lot better when you actually enjoyed it.
I could get used to this living thing.
The chair across the table pulled out and Piper dropped herself into it. We regarded each other for long, silent moments. She was the first one to break the silence. “You bought this place for her,” she said. “She looks really happy. Happier than I’ve ever seen her.”
I glanced over at Frankie. She was putting several cupcakes into a large pink box and she was laughing. “About what I did to you…” I said, not really knowing what to say. Apologizing seemed stupid, especially when I wasn’t really sorry. I’d been doing what I had to do. I knew I had to say something, though, because this was Frankie’s best friend, her family, and Frankie was, well… my life.
Piper held up her hand. “That’s not what I want to talk about. That’s in the past.”
“Then what?” I asked, setting the cupcake down and giving her my full attention.
She took a deep breath. “Give me your hand.”
“My—” I stopped because I knew exactly what she wanted to do. There was only one reason she would want to touch me.
She wanted to see what my future entailed. She wanted to be guaranteed that I wasn’t going to do something awful to Frankie.
I actually wanted to know too.
Slowly, I stretched my hand across the table. She looked at it for long moments, no doubt deciding if this was really what she wanted. We both knew whatever she saw might not be good.
I heard something clatter to the floor and we both looked. Frankie was staring at us with a pale face and round eyes.
I was about to pull away, to change my mind, when her hand covered mine.
Maybe I would get lucky and she wouldn’t have a vision. Maybe nothing would happen.
; I knew from the look on her face the instant a vision overwhelmed her.
Her hand covered mine for several minutes and then she pulled away, her eyes coming back into focus and looking at me.
I couldn’t read her. Her face was closed off, tight. I knew it was bad.
I swallowed. “How bad is it?” Maybe there was a way to somehow change whatever she saw.
Her face softened and a small smile played on her lips. “Well, that depends. How do you feel about kids?”
Kids?
I stared at her dumbly. Was she saying Frankie and I were going to have kids?
She nodded. “With green eyes just like his daddy.”
A boy. I was going to have a son.
A huge grin broke over my face. It hurt my cheeks because I was positive I had never smiled so big in my entire life. After everything—after the fighting, the killing, the heartache—I was finally going to get a chance to live.
And damn, living was so much better than death.
The End
Acknowledgements
I would like to acknowledge you—why? Because you are taking the time to read these acknowledgements. I have been hearing through the grapevine that many readers do not read the acknowledgements of a book. I admit that I didn’t always read them either… until I started writing. It seems to me that the best way to get even a glimpse into an author’s world is just by reading the acknowledgements in the back of their book.
You’re probably thinking, “Uhhh, I already know the author. I just spent, like, a bunch of hours reading the stuff they wrote.” (C’mon, you know you say “like” too). But here’s the thing… a book (well, at least my books) aren’t really me. Yes, you get a glimpse into my head, but what I’m writing isn’t me; it’s my characters. It’s the people in my head who talk to me constantly. I’m totally going to make you roll your eyes with this next confession: sometimes I feel like one of those mediums that see dead people.
Yup, go ahead. Get it out. Roll your eyes real good.
Okay, now I will explain. You know how sometimes you see the interviews with the mediums who are with a family and the spirit of a lost loved one is there and telling the medium what to say? Well, that’s how I feel. Except my characters aren’t spirits (well, most of them, lol) trying to talk to loved ones. They’re people with a story to tell. In many ways, I feel like the medium for them to tell their story through. A lot of times, I have no idea what’s going to happen in one of my books. I sit and I stress about it. I worry I won’t be able to fill a page let alone an entire novel with a story. I surf Facebook, Pinterest (I swear I have, like, every recipe known to man saved on there and no time to cook them), and well, do just about everything other thing than start writing. But then I do. And the answers come… because the characters know them, because it’s their story to tell.
While some details in my novels might reflect on me (for example, I used to drive a red Jeep Wrangler like Frankie), these stories are not me. I just listened well enough to the people in my head while they were talking. Does that mean I’m bipolar? Whacko? In need of therapy? Likely.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is that by reading this part of my novels, you get a chance to hear something from me and not my characters. So it means a lot when you take the extra couple minutes to actually see what I want to tell you. Oh, and I promise to never just make a list of people I would like to thank (though, I will be thanking people) like some of those incredibly bad speeches you see on TV from some celebrities at award shows who get up there to accept their award and pull out a notecard. *facepalm*
I know some of you read this part… like Mommom, Aurora Bray, who actually reads all my books and acknowledgements. I know because in the acknowledgements of Recalled I begged someone to find me that Ginger Twist tea that fell off the face of the earth. Well, my mommom, fabulous lady that she is, called Lipton. Turns out I was, like, the only person who liked that tea and so they quit making it. (Note: I have no idea if anyone else liked that tea). So, thank you, Mommom, for reading my entire books, for calling Lipton, and oh yeah, for being my grandmother. And a really great one at that.
I would also like to acknowledge my new personal assistant, Katy Austin. Without her this book might never have been done. Trying to keep up with everything social media, messages, marketing, etc. leaves very little time to actually write. Katy stepped in with her super powers and organization and started handling a lot of that for me so I could write. Oh, and thanks for putting up with me and my messages too. Hopefully you aren’t considering running away screaming yet.
My editor, my book doctor, Cassie McCown, you rocked it out. Thanks for making my books a lot better than they would be otherwise. Congratulations on starting up Gathering Leaves Editing. I just know you are going to be booking up like crazy. Save me a spot on your calendar.
And just as in every acknowledgement I have written so far, I must mention Regina Wamba of Mae I Design. I mean, seriously. Did you see the cover of this book? You know you licked it. It’s okay because I licked it too (more than once). Thank you, Regina, for always designing book covers that make me have butterflies in my stomach. You truly are an artist.
To my third child, Cocoa. Thank you for always lying beside me during the many, many hours I spent finishing this book. Cocoa is definitely the best dog I have ever had. And, of course, to my two human children—thanks for the suggestion that Charming fight the “demons” in this book by making those incredible abs he has dance so the demon just passes out.
To Shawn, my husband, thanks for putting up the pool in the backyard. It makes a great babysitter. And always thanks for sitting up until midnight some nights while I went on and on about the plot.
Also, I need to acknowledge thefreedictionary.com where I got all the definitions for the chapter headings (except for the one provided by Charming, lol). If any definitions are inaccurate, it was through my error and not theirs.
Finally, thanks to all the fans. The bloggers, the Facebook peeps, all the sharing and enthusiasm you give me and all my books keeps me going. You deserve a donut. Or two.
Cambria Hebert is the author of the young adult paranormal Heven and Hell series and the new adult Death Escorts series. Watch for her upcoming new adult series, the Take it Off series, debuting in late summer 2013. She loves a caramel latte, hates math and is afraid of chickens (yes, chickens). She went to college for a bachelor’s degree, couldn’t pick a major, and ended up with a degree in cosmetology. So rest assured her characters will always have good hair. She currently lives in North Carolina with her husband and children (both human and furry) where she is plotting her next book. You can find out more about Cambria and her work by visiting http://www.cambriahebert.com
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Turn the page for an exclusive look at Cambria Hebert’s first new adult contemporary novel
TORCH
part of the brand new
Take It Off series!
TORCH
By Cambria Hebert
1
The pungent smell of gasoline stung my nostrils and my head snapped back in repulsion. I opened my eyes and lifted my hands to place them over my mouth and nose to hopefully barricade some of the overwhelming scent.
Except my hands didn’t obey.
I tried again.
Panic ripped through my middle when I realized my arms weren’t going to obey any kind of command because they were secured behind me.
What the hell?
I looked down over my shoulder, trying to see the thick ropes binding my wrists. The lighting in here was dim.
Wait. Where was I?
My heart starte
d to pound, my breathing coming in shallow, short spurts as I squinted through tearing eyes at the familiar shapes around me. A little bit of calmness washed over me when I realized I was in my home. Home was a place I always felt safe.
But I wasn’t safe. Not right now.
Charmed (Death Escorts) Page 34