by Clay, Verna
Ann squeaked, "I can't. There are too many people in line." Suddenly, the line dispersed.
Jackson motioned with his head, "I'll meet you at that table in the corner."
"I really can't…"
Dixie interrupted, "Yes, you can. I've got you covered. I'll bring your coffee to your table, Jackson. I'll bring you one too, Annie."
Jackson gave Dixie a grateful smile and limped to the table. Dixie whispered in Ann's ear. "The least you can do is hear what he has to say. Go on."
Ann rounded the counter and followed her husband, acutely aware of everyone in the room watching their progress. She sat across from him and Dixie brought coffees to their table.
Jackson stared at the steaming brew and then lifted his eyes to hers. They were filled with such torment that Ann couldn't hold his gaze. She stared down at her own coffee to compose herself.
"Annie, I want you to hear everything I have to say before you respond. Okay?"
She nodded, still looking at her cup. She heard him whoosh a breath.
He said, "I want to thank you for staying with me at the hospital. The doctor said you refused to leave until you knew I would recover. Although I don't remember much those first days, I do remember waking at times and hearing your voice and feeling your touch. You gave me a reason to live."
Ann bit her bottom lip to stop its trembling.
Jackson reached the tip of his finger and touched her hand resting on the table. "For most of my life I've avoided emotional commitment because I saw the damage it did to my father. I swore I'd never fall into the same trap. When we met years ago, I was instantly attracted to you and convinced myself it was purely physical. Secretly, I was glad you were married because it kept me from pursuing any kind of relationship with you." He removed his finger and reached for his coffee. Releasing another breath, he lifted the brew and sipped.
Ann couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes, so she glanced past his shoulder. He set his cup down and continued. "After you came to work at the ranch, you became the sunshine of my days. When I asked you to marry me, it wasn't purely because I was trying to save you—although I admit that played a part in it—mostly, it was because I'd fallen desperately in love with you."
Ann jerked her eyes to his.
"I need you, Annie. Let me clarify that—my heart needs you. I love you. Please come home and we'll make it work."
This time Ann couldn't stop the trembling of her bottom lip, but neither could she bring herself to respond. After a long time, Jackson said sadly, "You think about it, sweetheart." He scooted his chair back and clumsily pulled himself up with the aid of his cane. She watched his retreating back and someone rushed to open the door for him. She knew everyone was staring at her, but she didn't care. A tear slipped onto the table and a voice in her head shouted. This is your chance for a happily-ever-after! Don't let a misguided since of duty steal from you! He meant what he said!
Suddenly, she jumped from her chair and sprinted through the door. Jackson was standing beside his truck when she yelled his name. He looked up and waited for her to make a move. With tears streaming, she ran and stood in front of him. She said, "My heart needs you, too. I love you so much."
Dropping his cane and leaning against the fender for support, he opened his arms and she stepped into them. The only words escaping either of them were, "I love you. I love you. I love you."
Finally, Jackson looked up from kissing her and grinned. "Look behind you."
Annie turned around and laughed. All of Dixie's Cuppa Joe customers had crowded to the windows to watch their reunion. When she and Jackson grinned sheepishly, the patrons burst into laughter and applause. Annie's happily-ever-after not only came with the husband of her dreams, but a hometown, faithful friends, and a beautiful ranch.
Epilogue
Annie grinned at Jackson when he entered the kitchen looking tired and dirty. The fact that he no longer needed his cane and only walked with a slight limp filled her heart with joy. She said, "You look like you tussled with a herd of cows and lost the battle."
He chuckled, "I think ol' Bessie got the last laugh."
She walked over and put her arms around her husband and kissed him loudly.
He said, "Hey, Annie, now that you've got trail dust all over you too, why don't we do the big bathtub thing and I can tell you again how much I love you."
"Jackson, that's all well and good, but I really want you to show me."
"Whatever your heart desires."
An hour later they were still in the bathtub. While Annie scrubbed Jackson's back, she said, "Did I ever tell you about the young mother I met at the bus depot when I picked up my granny?"
"Not that I remember. Oh, that feels good—a little more to the left."
Annie moved her hand over. "Anyway, she had the cutest baby girl. She said she and her husband were planning on having at least six kids spaced far apart. She wanted to have her last one in her forties, which would put over twenty years between her youngest and oldest."
"Hmm. Down a little, please."
Annie moved her hand lower. "How's that?"
"Wonderful."
"Anyway, getting back to the gal with the baby; we're going to have something in common with her because Jacob will be almost twenty-three when our baby is born." She stilled her hand and waited for Jackson's reaction.
Swiftly he turned to face her and water sloshed out of the tub. A smile of such delight lit his face that Annie felt inexpressible joy.
"Annie," he breathed, "That's wonderful!" Touching his lips to hers, he chuckled, "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"
* * *
Annie listened to Jackson's occasional snores and placed a hand on her belly. The sonogram the previous day had revealed their baby was a girl.
Dawn's golden light suffused their bedroom and Spike snuggled at her feet when she reached toward the nightstand for the book written by her best friend, Sarah Tanner, alias Mims Murphy. Again, she reread the ending of Honey Kisses.
Fannie Mendoza gazed lovingly at their newborn daughter. Beside her, Johnson ran the tip of his finger over the baby's silky blond hair. Surprisingly, the infant opened her eyes and stared directly at her father. Fannie held her breath and captured the moment in a mental snapshot to be forever cherished in her heart. Johnson looked from the baby to her and smiled so proudly, she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
"What do you think we should name her?" he asked.
"I was thinking 'Angel' would be pretty."
He looked back at the baby and said, "Angel Mendoza—perfect."
Annie closed the book and sighed. When Jackson had asked what she wanted to name their baby and she'd suggested, "Angel." His response had been, "I think that's perfect."
Author's Note
Thank you for reading Annie and Jackson Martinez' love story, Honey Kisses. Next on the horizon is the romance between Tooty Townsend and Miles Brightman in Baby Kisses. Can a cranky, best selling suspense author with physical challenges and a jaded, young, single mother, find a happily-ever-after? I certainly had my work cut out for me in revealing their story.
Finally, I have included an excerpt from Book One in the Shapeling Trilogy: Roth: Protector. Roth is a no-nonsense alpha male and shapeshifter. When he receives an assignment from his elders to protect the spoiled and opinionated heiress and scientist, Rainey Childress, he meets a woman not intimidated by him—at least that's the impression she gives. Has Roth met his match? Can he protect Rainey and solve a mystery?
Novels and Novellas by Verna Clay:
Western Romance
Contemporary:
Romance on the Ranch Series
Dream Kisses
Honey Kisses
Baby Kisses
Historic:
Unconventional Series
Abby: Mail Order Bride
Broken Angel
Ryder's Salvation
Fantasy Romance
Shapeling Trilogy
Roth: Book One: Prote
ctor
Fawn: Book Two: Master
Davide: Book Three: Prince
11:11: Countdown to 2012
The Theory of Everything
Far Into Yesterday (Novella)
Jazmine (Novella)
Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance
The Ordinaries (coming someday!)
Keep reading for an excerpt from:
Shapeling Trilogy Book One
Roth: Protector
Shapeling Trilogy Book One
Roth: Protector
Chapter One: First Impressions
Roth captured the updraft with his wings, their seven foot span easily maneuvering the razor sharp crags of Ember Canyon. He changed direction and streaked toward the river, iridescent under a full moon. Diving low enough to feel the spray from rapids, he reveled in his mastery of shapeshifting.
Within minutes he would learn what the Thirteen co-Princes considered a worthy decisive mission. For over two thousand cycles of the sun he had been a Shapeling Protector. The successful completion of his next assignment would usher him into the ranks of Shapeling Master, the second highest honor among shapelings; and again, another round of undetermined sun cycles with increasingly complex missions, and the expectation of one day joining the co-Princes, leaders of all shapelings, would begin. He had no doubts about his abilities. He would not fail.
Roth soared high again, intent on reaching the Cave of Thirteen before sunrise. He arrived in record time. Gently landing and pulling his wings closed, he lowered his head and prayed to the Source, repeating the Prayer of Secrecy he had been taught as a child by his Guide. Before the last word in the prayer had been uttered, he no longer had wings or talons; he now stood tall on two feet, his raven hair long and whipped by the wind. Pale blue eyes that observed everything looked upward in a gesture of respect for the Source. Wearing only white linen breeches, he flexed and stretched his lean muscular form, feeling the rush that always accompanied a shapeshift.
Shapelings, unlike humans, gave no consideration for his looks. Their focus rested in an elusive goal beyond shapeshifting: mastery of wisdom. Honing wisdom, however, presented as a two-edged sword—becoming the creature while at the same time maintaining shapeling faculties of awareness. The difficulty in abating the thrill of becoming only the creature required intense practice and concentration over countless sun risings.
As a Shapeling Master, Roth would receive increasingly complex assignments aimed at developing wisdom. Eventually, consistent evidence of wise choices would bestow the title of Prince Thirteen upon him, the title his father had been about to receive before his untimely death during Roth's childhood. Roth pushed himself toward that goal for the sake of his heritage and envisioned his ultimate destiny, reigning as Prominent Prince as his ancestors before him.
He glanced at the glow in the eastern sky. Soon the edge of the sun would appear. He smiled and walked the short distance to the Cave of Thirteen. At the exact moment the sun made its appearance, he stepped inside the cave lit by fire torches. Reverently, he approached the Thirteen and knelt, speaking the Prayer of Respect, "May the embers of truth always glow."
"Rise, Roth," commanded the Prominent Prince.
"Come closer," the remaining twelve voiced in unison.
Roth rose and took the few steps that brought him directly in front of the Prominent One.
"You have accomplished your latest mission, Roth. We congratulate you."
Roth nodded his respect. "Thank you, Prominent Prince."
Another voice spoke, "You are well aware, of course, that this next assignment may usher you into the ranks of Mastery."
"Yes, Prince Two." Roth could not hide his grin.
"You have mastered all the creatures of your assignments…"
"Thank you, Prince Five."
"…except one."
Roth’s smile faded. Out of respect, he did not argue. His mind, however, raced to understand. He had shapeshifted into a wolf, a lion, an eagle, a horse, an owl, a dolphin, a human, a dog, a tiger, a panther, and multiple others, including reptiles and insects. He had never failed an assignment. He did not understand.
The Prominent Prince spoke again. "Although your assignments have been successful, we believe you have yet to acquire the full nuance of being human. This next mission will determine if you are ready to begin Missions of Mastery. It requires you to again shapeshift into a human."
"As you command. But may I ask in what way I came short?"
"That is something you must discover on your own. We will speak no more about this."
"Yes, Prominent Prince." Roth waited for his instructions, quelling the disappointment and frustration trying to find vent in his heart. He did not want his decisive assignment to be as a human. He had protected and saved the lives of innumerable humans throughout his previous missions as animals. He had also completed many assignments in human form; his last one being as a Yankee soldier during the American Civil War. He had been sent to protect a man whom the co-Princes believed would change the course of human history. On many occasions, Roth had deflected a bayonet intended for the man, or pushed him out of the line of fire. He had also saved him from being trampled by a horse, and even gone so far as to befriend him. After the war, they had gone their separate ways, and Roth had returned to the Cave of Thirteen for his next assignment.
Prince Thirteen spoke. "I will reveal the details of this decisive mission."
* * *
"No! No way, Father! I do not want another personal bodyguard! Why can't we continue with impersonal ones shadowing me?"
"This is not open for discussion, Rainey. You know the stakes were upped when your lab started producing results. I’ve hired a bodyguard to replace the one you drove away, and that's my final word. He’s been interviewed multiple times and his credentials are impeccable. He’s arriving tonight. I expect you to be civil when you meet him. Be in the drawing room at seven."
Rainey wanted to scream at her father. Instead, she stalked toward the double doors of the terrace and jerked them open.
"And Rainey…"
She paused, but did not turn around.
"…don’t be late."
Rainey gritted her teeth and continued into the house. She would be there, of course; but on time—probably not. She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and slammed the door. She was a prisoner not only in her own home, but in every aspect of her life. She had forgotten what it felt like to be completely alone—probably heaven. She laughed cynically at her choice of words. Her overprotective father was trying to keep her from being sent to the afterlife before her time.
Fate and genetics had not only made her father fabulously rich and brilliant, but had bestowed the same gift on her. Or was it a curse? Like father, like daughter. Why wasn't I born more like my mother? Even as the thought popped into her mind, Rainey shuddered. Her mother, a complete airhead, lived a life of endless manicures, pedicures, hair appointments, facials, shopping, and extended vacations. She had never even called her mother by any motherly term. She had always been "Stella" to Rainey. Years ago, Rainey had decided that her father must truly love her mother to have stayed married to her.
Rainey plopped on the side of her bed. She felt the niggling of a headache. By the time seven o’clock struck and she had to meet "Mr. Bodyguard," the headache would be full blown. She rubbed her temples and glanced toward her dresser, hoping to see a bottle of aspirin. Instead of aspirin, she caught sight of her reflection. She looked nothing like her beautiful mother. In fact, at the age of twenty-eight, she almost believed she looked older than her mother. Stella, being a former Las Vegas showgirl, stood tall and lean. Rainey stood short and, if not plump, then well endowed everywhere. Her small waist kept her from looking like a box. She chuckled at the picture she’d painted in her mind and continued her perusal. Even to her own eyes, her brownish-blondish hair drawn back in a clip at the nape of her neck, looked severe and spinsterish.
I may not have been born with looks, but I made up for it with
brains. To a nerd, my 160 IQ is very attractive; which is one of the reasons I’m stuck with a bodyguard.
Rainey sighed and went in search of the aspirin bottle.
* * *
Roth accepted the glass of wine from his employer. He swirled the rich color and sniffed.
"Are you a wine connoisseur, Mr. Beowolf?"
"Not at all, Mr. Childress."
"By the way, why don’t we do away with the formalities? You can call me Hank, because I abhor the name Harold, and I’ll call you Roth. Is that okay?"
"Certainly, Hank."
"Your name is unusual; I can’t say that I’ve ever met anyone with the given name of Roth."
"It’s a family name that’s been passed down many generations."
"Do you know its meaning?"
"Yes—exalted, tower of strength."
Hank laughed. "Well, son, that’s exactly why I hired you."
"Yes, sir."
"But speaking of why I hired you, that reminds me that we’re still absent my daughter’s presence. I have to warn you, she's very averse to having another bodyguard. You’re going to have your hands full. May I speak frankly?"
"Of course, Hank."
"Don’t take any of her crap. She’s been raised with a silver spoon and knows nothing of the real world. If she had been born less brilliant and more like her mother, I’m sure her life would have been quite different; not as mundane and ordered. As it is, her brilliance has landed her a top position in my company. And, as you are aware, we are a think-tank organization with multiple patents for amazing inventions. Being both a research scientist for Childress Enterprises—with a hefty income, I might add—and my daughter, Rainey is one of the wealthiest women in the world. Because of that, and the fact that she is on the brink of an amazing discovery, she must be protected from those who desire not only her money, but her brilliance to be used for the wrong reasons. Even if she had been born in poverty, I have no doubt she would still have made a name for herself among the scientific community and become a very wealthy woman. Her discoveries in the medical field have eased the suffering of untold numbers. She…"