“I’ll clean up the wet spots as soon as I get some dry clothes on, Stacy,” I say through an embarrassed smile.
“Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. I would however get to your room before Angel makes it in here or you might not ever get dry,” she laughs.
I turn around to see him almost making it to the door, and I take off toward my room. Wood floors and water don’t mix. I know this; I mean its common knowledge right? Well, in my haste, my brain forgot I was still dripping wet so when I tried to stop in front of my door, I continued down the hallway landing on my ass in front of Angel’s door.
I hear him laugh so I turn to glare at him. He’s walking toward me and when he reaches me, he picks me up. I figure he would just put me back on my feet, nope, I get thrown over his shoulder. He opens the door and kicks it closed once we are in his room.
His room looks like it belongs to a teenager. His mom must have kept it the same after he left. The only thing out of place is the bed. It’s still made of the same type of wood as the rest of the furniture, but it’s slightly different. The color is just a shade off. The walls are a navy blue and pinned with band posters.
It’s what you would assume a boy’s room would look like growing up, minus the cleanliness. I can see him as a kid in here. The thought makes me smile. His hands find the hem of my shirt and he pulls it over my head. The slight chill in the air causes me to shiver and goose pimples break out on my skin. He removes his shirt and then his pants. My eyes caress each and every piece of uncovered skin until they settle on his face. He steps closer to me and then unbuttons my shorts. They drop to my ankles and I step out of them.
Angel goes to his closet and tosses me one of his old t-shirts. I put it on and notice it’s from the team he played on in high school, Friendship Tigers. I knew his body resulted from some sort of sport. He pulls on some dry boxers and then pulls me underneath the comforter on his bed.
Being this close to him with practically nothing on has my body reacting in a way I’m still not used to. Our breathing is labored, but we won’t have sex. We both respect his mother, even though she probably thinks that’s what we’re doing right now.
“What do you want to do today?” he asks me.
“Umm, I’m not sure. Can we go see the horses today?” I ask a little too excited.
He chuckles at my enthusiasm,” Of course, we can do whatever you want, beautiful.”
“Okay, maybe a nap first because I’m enjoying this,” I laugh.
He kisses my forehead and pulls me in tighter. I snuggle into him, entwining our legs, and sigh into his neck. His hand draws patterns on my hip, relaxing me.
A conversation I had with my mom once, surfaces. We were talking about love. I don’t remember why, but I know I asked about how her and my dad loved each other, and if I’ll find that one day. She told me, “Nevaeh, you’ll know when you found a love like me and your father when you’re lying in the guy’s arms and it feels like home. You can be anywhere, but when you’re wrapped in his arms you’ll feel safe and secure. It’s like nothing can go wrong as long as his arms are around you. That’s when you’ll know you found the guy for you.”
“Hey, Angel?” I ask cautiously.
“Hmm?” he replies
“I know I’ve never talked about my family to you but I just remembered something my mom told me. I didn’t believe her then, but she was right,” I say on the verge of tears.
“Care to elaborate?” his voice is curious.
“Well, short version, I asked her if I’ll ever find love like her and my dad. She told me when I felt like I was home in someone’s arms, that’s when I found it, “I say.
“Okay?” his voice is cautious.
“I feel like I’m home when I’m with you, silly,” I laugh.
He lets out the breath he was holding,” You had me worried there, beautiful. I thought you were going to tell me something else.”
I laugh. “Oh, Angel, I love you and only you. Don’t you know that already?”
I kiss his neck and snuggle back into my spot, closing my eyes tight. For the first time since I was 13, I found my home. It’s not going to be easy; it’s going to be damn hard. We’re going to fight, make up, fight some more, because we’re not perfect. But maybe, just maybe, we’re perfect for each other.
We all have paths we belong on. Some say it’s written in the stars of our destiny. Are those people right…who knows? But I know this, whatever path was laid before me, I tripped, fell and deviated from it. I could have been lost forever if it wasn’t for Angel pulling me back. Like it says in that blue book on paths, maybe we are the echoes the book referred to and we are meant to save each other. I’m not sure I believe that one hundred percent, but if it means Angel and I stay together forever, bring on the Devine Destiny.
Epilogue
Angel
It’s Nevaeh’s 23rd birthday and we’re getting ready to head to the cemetery to visit her family. I’m anxious when I shouldn’t be, but the velvet box that’s tucked inside my jacket feels like a hundred pounds.
She’s absolutely beautiful as she stands in the kitchen, rearranging the bouquet of flowers for the tenth time since we bought them last night. She’s standing there in a pink sundress, her blonde hair curling down her back, and her converse. Where any other girl would have heels or flip flops on, my girl sports converse or cowboy boots.
I smile at her when she looks my way, “You ready, beautiful?”
“Definitely. Let’s go.” She hands one vase to me it while she grabs the other two.
On the drive to the cemetery we’re both silent. I know it’s because we are remembering the last time we were here. I lost her that day, and by some miracle she was given back to me. She has this illusion that I’m the angel saving her, but she’s wrong. She saved me and she doesn’t even know it.
“Hey, Neveah, do you think you can wait in the car for a minute when we get there? I want to say something to your family,” I ask, hoping my nervousness doesn’t show through my voice.
“Sure, babe,” she says through a smile.
She probably thinks I’m insane, but part of me thinks she might know what I’m up to. I can’t hide anything from her. Not since that week we spent up at mom’s house. We were together from then on, no going back.
We pull up by her family’s plots. I get out and take the vase for her dad while she waits in the car.
“Hey Mr. Rogers, I know this might seem crazy but Nevaeh is important to me. Important enough for me to talk to your headstone in hopes that you can hear me. Wow, I sound like a crazy person,” I say as I rub my face.
“I plan on asking her to marry me right here. I knew I loved her the moment I saw her, and though I don’t deserve her, she makes me happy like no one ever has before and I hope I do the same for her. So with your blessing I would like to ask you for her hand in marriage,” I smile up to the sky.
I motion for Nevaeh to join me. She takes a moment to talk to each one of her family members. When she’s done she comes to stand by me. The cloudy day, though it’s still warm out, is broken by a beam of sunlight shining down on us.
I look up and take this as my sign of acceptance. I get down on one knee and turn Nevaeh to face me. Her eyes go wide when she sees my stance.
“Nevaeh, I love you more today than I did yesterday, and I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do today. It’s been you since the first time we laid eyes on each other and I want it to be you until the day I take my last breath. Will you do me the greatest honor of being my wife and marry me?” Apprehension sneaks into my voice.
Her hand covers her mouth and tears stream down her face. I pull out the velvet box and show her the ring that’s been passed down through my family. Its white gold with three princess cut diamonds.
“Yes! Oh my god, yes!” she manages to say between sobs.
I place the ring on her finger and kiss it. Then stand up and pick her up, spinning her around.
It’s not going to be easy for us;
we argue like crazy, make up passionately, and love even crazier. She’s everything I never knew I needed and everything I can’t live without. And now I won’t have to because she said yes.
About the Author
Dani Morales is a native Texan currently residing in Las Vegas, Nevada with her three boys and her mother. She adopted the boys in December of 2011 and loves spending every minute playing with them. On her spare time you can find a book in her hand or sitting in front of the computer typing out stories that run rampant in her mind.
Other titles by this author includes her debut NA Paranormal Romance Entrelacen.
Where to find Dani Morales
www.DaniMoralesAuthor.blogspot.com
Twitter: @DaniMorales413
Facebook: Dani Morales, Author
Goodreads: Dani Morales
Preview
Here is an exclusive excerpt from Rachel Walter’s A Message of Flowers. It’s her first New Adult Contemporary Romance due out the Fall of 2013.
Chapter 1
White Carnations – Innocence, faithfulness, sweet and lovely, pure love, ardent love, woman’s good luck.
Placing a white carnation next to a colored carnation of my own, I smile. I’m not sure where the white ones came from, but they make for a beautiful arrangement that I’ll leave on display in the window.
“Who’s that for?” A male voice pulls me from my work.
I place the last white carnation into the vase and spin it so it looks right from all angles. “This is actually for no one in particular, Sid.” I shrug to my best friend and employee.
“Come on, G,” he coaxes, using my nickname for effect.
I sigh. “I’m just puttin’ it together. They’re my flowers, so who cares why I arrange them?”
“Yes, I’m well aware who my boss is,” he deadpans. “I’ve seen you at work, and I’ve seen you work. There’s a difference.” He raises a brow, daring me to challenge him.
I blow out a breath and side step him, placing the vase on the wide windowsill. “When I left my house this morning, there were four white carnations on my porch.” I shrug. “There was no note either, so I just brought them here. And I can’t sell them ‘cause they’re not mine.”
His mouth opens and closes like a fish sucking for air. “So you just bring stoop flowers in here?” His eyes go wide. “Go wash up! There could’ve been poison on them!”
I burst out laughing. “Sid, calm your conspiracies. Who would poison carnations?” The bell above the door chimes, and I try to calm my rolling hysterics.
I take a deep breath and try to think about anything other than carnations, or Sid, as I walk to the front of my store. “Welcome to G-Quets. I’m Georgina, can I help you?” I ask to the back of someone’s head.
The man spins around so fast he’s a blur and wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a huge bear-hug. “G-G! Is this your store?” He asks.
That voice, the familiar husky scratch.
“Corbin?” I squeal.
“Yea! Who else would scoop you up in the middle of, presumably your store, without a word?” He sets me down.
I slap at his arms and look up into his deep brown eyes. Eyes I didn’t realize I’ve even missed, until this very moment. “When did you get to town?”
He smiles shyly and shrugs. “I just got back last night. I’m finally home.” He smiles. “For good.”
“That’s great!” I smile widely. “It’s been quiet without you all these years. I need to tell Breeze you’re back!” I bounce a little.
“You still talk to Breeze? Holy shit!”
I nod. “And Sid.”
He looks over my shoulder and grins widely. “Dude! You haven’t changed a bit, Freestyle!” I cringe. Sid has always hated that nickname.
“’Sup, Waylay? Where’s your brother?” Sid hollers as he strides towards us.
“That’s actually why I’m here.” He looks towards some flower arrangements. “He’s getting married in a week, can you make some kind of…” he trails off. “I don’t know, Mom wants me get some kind of flower thing that would attach to her present, instead of a bow. I thought if it looked cool, I’d get one, too.”
“Sure, not a problem, follow me,” I say, shifting into business mode immediately and lead him towards the back where my books are. I scan my shelf for the book I need, as Sid and Corbin get reacquainted.
Six years ago, when we graduated high school, Corbin took off. I never heard too much about him, just rumors. His mother barely talked about him, just the occasional, “I spoke with Cor, he said to tell you “hey good-lookin’.”
Finding the book I need, I spin on my heel and lean across the counter. “They’re called “Flows” in my store,” I explain and flip open the book so he can see a few pages of examples. “I crystallize each flower, they’ll never die. So, Jacob and his bride-to-be will be able to keep them as a keepsake.”
He nods while glancing through the book. “I’ll take the Forget-Me-Not-Flow and the Orchid-Flow,” he says pointing to each one. “You know who he’s marrying?”
“Uh, no,” I answer.
“Shantel LoPiccilo.” He laughs.
“They were off-again last I heard,” Sid says.
“I heard they were on-again last year,” I chime in.
“This is the fifth date,” he says with a laugh. A laugh that stirs something in my stomach, something I haven’t felt in ages. “It’s the closest they’ve gotten to the actual date without canceling, so Mom’s holding onto hope this time and actually got a present for them.”
“What’d she get ‘em, glue?” Sid laughs.
“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I’ll get them something two days before the wedding. I’m not chancing it.” He shakes his head. “If they cancel, I’m keepin’ the Forget-Me-Not-Flow.” He grins.
“You could just order two,” I suggest with a wink.
His eyes lock on mine, and I hold my breath under the heat of his stare. “It’ll be mine.” He pulls his eyes from mine, and I let my breath out, slowly. “They won’t last,” he tells Sid.
After he says goodbyes and pays, Sid starts cleaning. Not just the normal cleaning we do on a daily basis, either. This is a cleaning of every nook and cranny.
“Sid, what’s up?” I ask, as he cleans the front window for a fourth time.
“Nothing,” he says calmly and continues to swipe the window.
“The window was clean the first time you cleaned it,” I remind him. “Come over here and talk to me,” I say as I put together a vase for a customer pick up in one hour.
“I don’t trust Waylay,” he says as he tosses the paper towel in the trash and turns to face me. “I didn’t trust ’em in high school and I sure as shit don’t trust him now.” He glares at me.
“I don’t have any problem with Corbin. It was Jacob that was the weasel.” I shrug off his glare. Jacob was in an on-again-off-again relationship with Shantel and Breeze. Breeze didn’t care about Shantel, but Shantel hates Breeze. Breeze has been my best friend since kindergarten, so by association, I was on her shit-list. Corbin and I have always been friends, though I’ve always crushed on him but nothing ever came of it. Especially after he left.
“You still have the hots for Mr. Chocolate-eyes-Waylay!” He shouts. “I can see it on your face!” His fists thump on the counter, making me jump. “He’s not right for you,” he seethes. “Don’t even try denyin’ it, Georgina.” He glares at me.
“Sid, you’re pushin’ to be left out early,” I say, as calmly as I can.
“Right, play the boss card. But you know he’s not right for you.” He starts to walk away, then stops. “He’s not stable, he treats women like shit, he’s a druggie, and as your best friend – I demand you stay far away from him. He’s dangerous and will cause you nothin’ but trouble.”
“Hey, Sid?” I ask with a sigh.
“What?” He stops his retreat.
“Go home, and sit on a cactus,” I say.
“If you weren’t my boss
,” he says with a laugh, and shakes his head as he pushes the backdoor open.
I breathe a sigh of relief and count to ten to banish Sid’s negativity.
This woman wanted a pink bouquet to give to her daughter for her eighteenth birthday. I believe every flower has a meaning. So I choose pinks and whites that reflect on a mother’s love, pride, and happiness, as well as good-bye. After all, eighteen is when most move out.
As I arrange the order, my mind travels to the white carnations on my porch.
Good luck? Innocence? Faithfulness?
I know what they mean to me, but what do they mean to the person who left them? Who left them?
I’m choosing to say it’s a good luck charm. I’m twenty three years old, own my own flower shop, home, and car, I have wonderful professional and personal relationships, and a very fat cat at home awaiting my arrival.
“Okay, so maybe not all of my relationships are wonderful,” I mumble to myself, as I slip some primrose into the vase.
Sid can be overbearing sometimes, like today. I nick my finger on the scissors and force my thoughts into neutral territory, so I can finish this vase before I gash myself or mess up her order.
Tomorrow, my sister, Trish, is starting here. She makes these little non-food food-looking gifts. She rolls up washcloths and pretty much anything else, to make cakes, sundaes, lollipops, but you can’t eat them, obviously.
I’d be really excited about it, but Trish hates Sid, and Sid hates Trish.
I sigh. “Tomorrow is a new day.” Whether it’s going to be good or not, is still undecided.
Deviation (Deviate Series) Page 14