Love at Last (Finding Love Book 6)

by Delaney Cameron

  Love at Last:

  A Sweet Contemporary Romance

  (Finding Love, Book 6)

  by

  Delaney Cameron

  ©2017 Delaney Cameron

  Photo courtesy of: Pressmaster

  Used under license from Shutterstock.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this e-book can be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without the written permission of the author.

  This book is fiction and its characters are purely a manifestation of the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, and events is entirely coincidental. (11)

  Other books by Delaney Cameron:

  Finding Love Series:

  Team Mom: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 1)

  Stealing His Heart: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 2)

  Love of a Lifetime: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 3)

  Dare to Love: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 4)

  Yours, With Love: A Sweet Contemporary Romance (Finding Love, Book 5)

  Standalones:

  Dream of Me: A Sweet Contemporary Romance

  Finding Allie: A Sweet Regency Romance Novella

  For updates or to sign up for my newsletter, please go to:

  delaneycameron.weebly.com

  Prologue

  Tears of frustration streamed down Rosemary’s face as she stomped up the steps to the bathroom with its worn-out green linoleum and old-fashioned claw-footed tub. She didn’t want to take a bath, and she didn’t want to talk to the boy who was coming over. Boys were gross. They smelled funny and thought they knew everything. Thanks to Tommy Fulton, she now had another reason to hate them. He’d caught her behind the bushes at the park during their fifth grade end-of-school-year picnic and kissed her. She could still feel the touch of his wet lips on her face. She’d guessed that kissing was yucky; now she knew it was.

  Until this morning, everything had been going great with this visit to her grandmother’s house in St. Marys. They’d done most of the items on Rosemary’s summer vacation checklist: go to the beach (to get a head start on a tan), make peanut butter cookies (something she never did at home because her mother was waging a war against sugar), have her nails done (one of several things her mother didn’t think she was old enough to do), and shop for a new pair of shoes (because you can never have enough shoes). Spending the afternoon with some strange boy wasn’t anywhere on that list.

  Why couldn’t her grandmother’s friend leave him at home? Was he such a baby that he couldn’t be left alone for a few hours?

  A knock on the bathroom door put an end to her fuming.

  “Rosie, are you almost done in there? Miss Susan and Jason will be here soon.”

  Only her grandmother called her Rosie. Her mother didn’t like it; but Rosemary did. Rosie sounded like a country girl, and that was very important if one wanted to be a country music singer.

  “I’ll be right out.” That was a slight exaggeration. She was still sitting in a tub of rapidly-cooling bath water.

  Ten minutes later when she was brushing her teeth, she heard the doorbell. A longsuffering sigh escaped her lips as she pulled on a neon-pink t-shirt that matched her newly painted nails with the rhinestone stars on the tips. Her mother was going to have a fit when she saw them. White shorts and flip flops completed her outfit. Pushing a swath of still-damp wavy hair behind her ear, she opened the door and prepared for battle.

  As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear voices coming from the living room. Her grandmother was talking about their trip to the mall yesterday. That’s where Rosemary wished she was. Almost anywhere was preferable to being forced to meet a boy; anywhere except at home with her new stepfather. Another sigh slipped out; but this was a sad one.

  She missed her father so much. If he was still alive, then her math teacher could never have come to live at her house. There was something weird about that. She’d tried to explain this to her mother, but in the end, Mr. Sanders moved in with them. He took her father’s place at the dining room table as well as in the Lazy Boy recliner in the family room. But there was one place he would never replace Rosemary’s father: in her heart.

  Hidden in her journal (the one tucked safely underneath her pillow) was a song she’d written called “In the Sun”. Some day she was going to sing that song in a concert, and her father would look down from heaven and know that she’d finally reached the stars. But right now she had to deal with the member of the male species sitting on her grandmother’s new couch most likely stuffing his face with her peanut butter cookies.

  As she turned the corner from the hall into the living room, she replaced the scowl on her face with something less of a scowl. A smile was simply asking too much. Before she could lower her gaze to the floor it collided with eyes the color of newly mown grass. Her heart began to jump wildly in her chest. Above the confusion taking place inside, she heard her grandmother’s voice.

  “There you are, Rosie. You remember Miss Susan, don’t you?”

  Rosemary pulled her attention away from the figure occupying the left end of the couch and latched onto the older woman in the chair next to him. “Yes, I remember her.”

  “My goodness, Rosie, you’ve grown into a young lady since I saw you last.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her grandmother pointed to the couch. “This is Jason, Miss Susan’s grandson. Jason, this is my granddaughter, Rosie. Why don’t you two go out on the back porch and get to know each other?”

  Rosemary preferred to get to know him here. She shot her grandmother a pleading glance that was fielded with a reassuring smile. There would be no getting out of it. She waved her hand vaguely in his direction.

  “The porch is this way, Jason.”

  “Just call me Jase,” a low voice said from behind her.

  They stepped through the screen door to the porch and stood facing each other. She saw a short, skinny boy with a slightly crooked nose and blond hair that kept falling over his forehead. His plaid button-up shirt was already coming untucked from his shorts and there were Band-Aids on both his knees.

  “How old are you?” she asked, leaning against the railing and feeling a little bit superior because she was taller than him.

  “Eleven.”

  “That’s the same age as me. You’re kinda small.” As she watched his shy smile disappear, she remembered the rule about not making personal comments and wished she hadn’t said anything.

  “My dad says I’ll be as tall as Quinn one day. And he’s a doctor so he should know.”

  “Who’s Quinn?”

  “My brother. He’s in college. I also have a sister named Terry. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  She sat down on the steps. “No, but I have a cat named Whiskers.”

  He chuckled as he joined her. Rosemary could only stare at him. When he laughed, his whole face got involved. She’d never seen anything like it.

  “That’s a funny name,” he told her. “Do you live here?”

  “No. I live in Kennesaw. It’s up by Atlanta.”

  “My brother took me to Atlanta to watch a Braves game a few weeks ago.” His brows lowered. “He brought his girlfriend, too,” he went on in a tone of disgust. “All she did was complain the whole time. Quinn told me next time we go, it’s gonna be just me and him.”

  “I don’t like baseball. Or any kind of sports. I’m into music. I taught myself to play the guitar.”

  “In order to play soccer, my mom made me take piano lessons. I’m not very good at either one.”

  “You don’t like music?” she asked in disbelief.


  “I like listening to music, not playing it. It helps me write. I want to be a writer, but my father says that writing is a hobby, not a job.”

  “That’s what my mom says about me wanting to be a singer, but I don’t care. My dad told me I could be anything, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Your dad sounds cool.”

  “He was cool.” Tears welled in her eyes. “He’s dead now.”

  Jase dug around in his pocket. He removed two crumpled napkins and held them out to her. “Gran asked me to grab a few from the restaurant to put in the car. You can have them.”

  “Thanks.” As she wiped her face, she realized that Jase wasn’t anything like the boys she went to school with. He was nice, and he hadn’t made any disgusting sounds yet. “What do you write about?”

  “I wrote a story set in the old West and another one about a headless horseman.”

  “Like the one from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?”

  “Yeah, except I have it taking place at Stone Mountain.”

  Nora Collins stuck her head through the door. “Here you are. It’s time for Jason to go home.”

  He stood up reluctantly, the green eyes that seemed too large for his face fixed on Rosemary. “Maybe I can come over again before you go home.”

  “I’d like that,” she told him, somewhat surprised that she meant it.

  Later that night when she was alone in her room, she removed the worn leather book from under the pillow. Then she flipped to a blank page and chewed on the end of the pen. This was a first; she’d never written about a boy in her journal before. She’d never had a reason to until now. A tiny smile touched her lips as she thought back to that conversation on the porch. Maybe she’d been too hasty. A kiss from Jase might not be so yucky after all.

  Chapter One

  Jase checked in with the smiling attendant at the counter and then scanned the crowded waiting area for a place to sit down. He didn’t want to stand for the forty-five minutes remaining before he could board the plane. There was one open spot on the second row next to a little boy perched half on and half off the seat. His hand was resting on the arm of the woman beside him. Her eyes were glued to the iPad on her lap.

  Maybe she was reading one of his books. Jase laughed inwardly. Was this leftover optimism from the writer’s conference he’d just attended? Not for nothing had he spent the last week in New York learning everything from the importance of branding to the intricacies of developing his own social media footprint. He was on fire to get back to St. Marys and start putting all these strategies into practice.

  Jase’s first book had enjoyed moderate success. His second and third had each done a little better. Now he felt all the pressure to produce another high-quality offering. That compulsion and anxiety were the main reasons he’d traveled so far from home.

  As he maneuvered around luggage and feet, he tried to ignore the grumbling of his nearly empty stomach. The continental breakfast they served at his hotel had been woefully inadequate for a man his size. A delay turning in his rental car had prevented him from being able to eat in one of the overpriced restaurants at the airport. All he’d been offered on the flight from New York to Atlanta was coffee. To remedy the situation, he picked up some snacks from a kiosk set up outside a gift shop. They would have to suffice until he reached Jacksonville.

  Sliding his laptop case off his shoulder, he dropped down in the empty seat between the little boy and a female in slim-fitting jeans and a pair of hot pink Chuck Taylor’s. The top of her face was obscured by a floppy felt hat and black aviator Ray-Ban sunglasses. The bottom half was covered by a strategically placed Vanity Fair magazine.

  Jase recognized a ‘leave me alone’ stance when he saw it. He shifted his attention to the other side, smiling at the pair of brown eyes looking up at him with all the curiosity of a playful puppy. Here was someone who might talk to him.

  * * * * *

  Rosemary tensed when the man she’d noticed standing at the counter entered her aisle and made his way to the empty chair next to her. She’d been watching him since he arrived, and she wasn’t the only one. His height alone would garner attention, but it was the slow drawl spoken in a richly baritone voice that kept her glance fixed on him. She hadn’t heard a true Southern accent in years.

  The rest of him wasn’t so bad either. His honey-blond hair was cut short on the sides and spiked on top. There was a few days’ worth of stubble on his lean cheeks, and if the thick biceps and toned forearms were any indication, he was sporting some decent muscles under his t-shirt. With hair that shade, she surmised that his eyes were probably blue, but to find out, she’d have to emerge from behind the magazine. Something she had no intention of doing.

  When he turned away from her, Rosemary sighed soundlessly. It was nice to run across a guy who didn’t think every woman within a ten-foot radius wanted to know his life story. In the last five years, she’d heard just about every pickup line in existence. But that was all they were. Few if any of those men cared what kind of person she was. They were attracted to the image they saw on stage.

  She’d thought Randall was different. He was the flamboyant music manager who discovered her. He’d taken an immature teenager and turned her into a star. There hadn’t been anyone she respected or trusted more. She thought their future together was a certainty until she walked into her tour bus and found him making out with her assistant.

  In the aftermath of that fiasco, the details of which quickly made their way to the press, Rosemary had done what she always did when something bad happened. She disappeared into her music; a world she could control and which had been her solace for years.

  At the moment, she was at the height of her career both in earnings and popularity. On a personal level, she was at a low point; humiliated by those she thought were friends and disillusioned by how different the limelight was from her expectations. She hadn’t found that elusive lasting happiness and peace of mind on tour or in the recording studio. In spite of being constantly surrounded by others, she’d never felt so alone.

  The concert in Atlanta last night was the final stop on a tour that lasted nearly six months. Rosemary was physically and mentally drained. The music that used to fill her dreams and flow easily from her mind to paper had gradually gone silent. Without this source of inspiration much of her joy in singing disappeared. Hopefully, this time away would cure not only her broken heart, but also the headaches that had coincided with Randall’s defection.

  “Hello, there. What’s your name?”

  Rosemary instinctively sank lower in the seat until she realized that the deep voice wasn’t speaking to her, but to the little boy. She relaxed again, letting the magazine dip enough to see the back of the man’s head and a pair of wide shoulders. He might not know it, but he’d earned her eternal gratitude by ignoring her.

  * * * * *

  Jase’s question took the boy by surprise. He hopped off the seat and went over to stand in front of the woman holding the iPad. She looked up at Jase and smiled. “Donny’s a little shy around strangers.”

  “I was, too, at that age. This morning I was in New York wearing a jacket and enjoying the cool weather. By the time I land in Florida, I’ll be wishing I was wearing shorts.”

  “Do you live in Jacksonville?”

  “No, I live in South Georgia, but Jacksonville has the closest airport. How about you?”

  “We’re from Orange Park which is just outside Jacksonville. We’ve been in Atlanta for two weeks visiting my sister.”

  “Did you do any sightseeing? I hear the Georgia Aquarium is nice.”

  “We did that as well as the zoo. We also went to a Sage concert.”

  “Is that a person or a group?”

  The woman laughed. “You must not be a country music fan. Sage is one of the hottest performers out right now. When she sings, I get goosebumps.”

  “I’m more into classical and eighties pop music.”

  “To each his own, I guess.” />
  “Whatcha got in that bag?” Donny asked, some of his shyness disappearing.

  Jase smiled. “Peanut butter crackers. If it’s okay with your mom, you can help me eat them.”

  Donny turned pleading eyes in his mother’s direction. “Can I, Mommy?”

  “Yes, you may.”

  Jase opened the package and held it out to Donny. “What was your favorite animal at the zoo?”

  “The pandas.”

  “My sister-in-law got me hooked on the panda cam. I’ve spent hours watching the mother panda and her two cubs when I should have been working. Did you get a chance to see them?”

  Donny nodded absently. His attention was focused on separating the crackers so he could get to the peanut butter.

  “They were sleeping when we were there,” his mother put in helpfully.

  By the time they were walking through the tunnel leading to the plane, Jase and Donny were best friends. Unfortunately, this is where they had to separate. Donny and his mother had seats on the first row. Jase’s seat was in the middle section of the plane.

  It wasn’t until he was listening to the flight attendant give the pre-flight speech that he realized the woman in the hat and sunglasses was seated across the aisle from him. She was still clinging to the magazine as if it was a lifeline. Her very passivity, the impression that she was gathered into herself like someone out in a storm, kept him from being able to completely dismiss her from his mind. Why was he so certain that all wasn’t well with her?

  He needed to forget this nonsense. Just because someone didn’t want to talk didn’t necessarily mean anything was wrong. She had a perfect right to be left alone.

  Just after the beverage service finished, the captain’s voice announced the presence of a line of thunderstorms sweeping inland off the east coast. Even though they planned to fly above them, there would be a decent amount of turbulence. Everyone was advised to fasten their seatbelts.

  The next twenty minutes saw a steady increase in the amount of jolting and a corresponding change in the mood of the travelers. A glance out the window showed that the plane had entered a bank of dark gray clouds. Above the drone of the engines and the rabble of conversation, the voice of the captain was heard again. They would be making their landing momentarily, but it would likely be a bumpy one.