“Have you left yet?”
“I’m about three minutes from your place.”
“Hey, change of plans. I had to stop over at the community center to check the furnace.”
“Something wrong?”
“Not really. It was giving me a fit the other day when I was working on it. Just wanted to make sure the place was still nice and toasty.”
“No problem. I’ll be there soon.”
He clicked off the call and took a bow. “And that’s how you trick your buddy.”
“Thank you, Travis. I couldn’t have done it without your help.” She gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek before pushing him toward the door.
“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” He chuckled as he slipped his arms inside his coat.
“Sorry, but I need a minute alone before he gets here.”
“Okay, I hear you. I hope everything goes okay.”
“You and me both. Bye, Travis.”
She stood at the door and watched as Travis’s truck pulled out of sight. She hurried back into the activity room and dimmed the overhead lights, leaving just the decorative bulbs twinkling. With a flip of a switch, spotlights shone on the mistletoe ball as it spun above the dance floor. Soft, instrumental Christmas music floated on the air.
Headlights beamed across the wall announcing Tucker’s arrival, so Liza hid behind one of the Christmas trees. Her plan had to work. More than anything she wanted to prove to him she was no longer frightened of happiness, especially this time of year. It was time she started creating her own happiness rather than letting curses dictate her holidays.
“Travis?” Tucker’s voice rang out from the community center’s foyer. “You still here?”
He pulled the door open and leaned his head into the room. “Hey, Travis.”
Liza drew in a deep breath, crossed her fingers behind her back, and stepped from behind the tree.
“Travis isn’t here.”
“Liza.” He took a step back and for a second she thought he would leave. “What are you doing here?” He walked into the room, letting the door close behind him. Golden beams of light highlighted the confusion on his face.
“I left the Mistletoe Ball so abruptly I thought maybe we could go back to that night.”
“Why?”
“I feel like I owe you a better ending. I mean, you always wanted to play Mr. Claus and I sort of messed up the finale of your reign.”
“What are you up to?”
A sharp pain burned under her diaphragm and she fought the urge to double over. He was still upset with her. The way his arms were crossed over his chest and his eyes glared at her, it might be too late. She dug her fist into her chest and pushed the button on the remote control.
“What’s this?” He stepped farther into the room and looked up at the screen covered in a bright, white light.
“I have something to show you.” She hit another button and Tucker’s sketch of the castle-turned-pub and outlying retail spaces covered the screen, but with a few modifications. Instead of the castle sitting front and center, it was now on the west end of the lot and an identical stone structure sat on the east side. In between were three additional retail spaces. Over the castle door was a sign that read The Camelot Gallery and over its twin building were the words The Lifted Curse Pub.
Tucker stepped closer to the screen with his mouth agape and his eyes mere slits. Why didn’t he say something? Anything? Did he like it? Did he hate it? Did he hate her?
“Who drew this?”
“I did. What do you think?”
He shoved his hands into his front pockets and continued to stare at the screen. Maybe if she showed him the other sketches, he’d say something. She clicked a button on the remote and her drawing of the back of the complex covered the screen. Behind the gallery was a smaller version of her sculpture garden, six parking spaces were drawn in back of the retail stores, and a grassy space dotted with picnic tables sat outside the pub.
“Well?” She took a few tentative steps toward him, wringing her hands as she watched the screen’s reflection dance over his face.
“Huh.”
“Damn it, Tucker.” She closed the distance between them, shoving her hands into his shoulder and knocking him off balance. “Is that all you’re going to say?” She perched her fists on her hips and glared at him. “Do you like it or don’t you?”
He turned slowly toward her with a wry grin on his face. His eyes trailed down the length of her body, taking in the beaded gown she wore to the ball, and back up again.
“You look awful cute tonight.”
Of course, she looked good. She’s spent the better part of the afternoon getting ready, and even though she was frustrated right now, she was pleased with his sexy smile and smoldering gaze. All her efforts had paid off in that department. Now, what about the castle?
“Thank you, but you haven’t said anything about the sketches.”
“So, you get the original castle and I get a replica?”
“It doesn’t matter, I’ll take the replica. Just tell me you like my idea.”
“I like you.” He took a dramatic giant step toward her and swept her into his arms.
“I’m glad. I wasn’t so sure after the way I acted at the ball.”
“And the way you wouldn’t answer my calls or texts for the past few days.”
“I’m sorry. I know it was juvenile, but I was so upset.”
“I know, babe, and I’m sorry.” He drew her in close and kissed her temple. She had missed being held tight in his strong arms, feeling safe and loved. Virginia had said he loved her and she believed it, but she needed to hear the words. She kept her hands on his broad shoulders, and stepped back, putting a few inches between them so she could see his face.
“What do you think of the name of the pub? You can change it if you want, but—”
“Are you trying to tell me you no longer believe in the curse?”
“Right now, with your arms around me? No. I don’t.”
“Good, because I have something important to say to you.”
Finally, he was going to speak those three little words she’d been longing to hear. Tell her he loved her and wanted to marry her and have babies. She would spend the rest of her life with her very best friend.
“I can’t live in that little camper another night. My back is killing me and this morning I woke up with the worst charley horse.”
“Tucker!” Tears filled her eyes as she flatted her hands against his chest, fighting against his ironclad hold. He threw back his head with a hearty laugh and gripped her butt in his hands.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist. You were looking up at me with those gorgeous, blue puppy dog eyes and I just had to—”
“You’re so mean.”
“I’m sorry. What were you expecting me to say? Hmm?”
He skimmed his hand up the back of her dress, setting off a thousand sparks, and cupped her neck, rubbing his thumb slowly against her skin. His lips brushed over her forehead, to each cheek, and then touched her mouth as soft as a whisper.
“Did you want me to say I love you?” He gathered her face in his hands and kissed her with a bit more passion. “Because I do.” This time his mouth was more demanding, smothering her lips in a long, sumptuous kiss.
After several breathless moments, he ended the kiss with a quick peck to the tip of her nose. “I love you, Liza. Always have. Always will.”
“And I love you.”
He bent down for another kiss, but she put her hand over his mouth. There was something they needed to do.
“Come with me.” She grabbed his hands and, keeping her eyes on his handsome face, the face she planned to wake up to for the rest of her life, she pulled him into the center of the room. “We still need to kiss under the mistletoe as Mr. and Mrs. Claus.”
Centered under the mistletoe, he circled his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground. With his long, slow kiss, all her fears an
d worries disappeared. The curse was forever lifted. They stayed in each other’s arms, swaying to the music and locked in a kiss for so long that Liza nearly forgot she still had one more thing to show him. When the kiss ended, she pushed a button on the remote.
The same sketch with the castle on one corner and the pub on the other lit up the screen, but this time strings of white lights lined each window and along the roof. Small Christmas trees adorned each shop window and evergreen wreaths with red bows decorated the doors of the pub and gallery.
“What’s this?”
“This is what our little block will look like the night of the winter street festival.”
“It’s very…Christmassy.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“I’m surprised.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her nose to his. “You shouldn’t be. Thanks to you, the curse is lifted and I’m starting to like Christmas again.”
“You are?”
“A little.” She pinched her fingers together. “As long as I spend all my Christmases with you from now on.”
“You can guarantee it.”
She gathered his face in her hands and looked into his dark, chocolate eyes. “I love you, Tucker.”
“Oh, babe, I love you, too.”
They kissed under the mistletoe to the sound of “White Christmas,” and for the first time Liza thought Christmas was the most magical time of year.
Acknowledgements
What fun it was for me to return to Highland Springs and bring you Liza and Tucker’s story. It goes without saying that I couldn’t have completed this book without the help of some very smart, talented, generous people.
It was Rebecca Heyman who guided me through the early developmental edits and inspired the title Whatever We Are. She has worked with me from the very beginning, and I can’t thank her enough for all she’s taught me.
Thank you to Jessica Snyder, whom I met over lunch during a Washington Romance Writers meeting, for doing the developmental and line edits on the revised story. Her keen insights into romance made the manuscript shine.
It was such a pleasure to work with Beth Balberchak, another Washington Romance Writers member, who proofread the final version.
Whatever We Are is the third book for which the amazingly talented Shona Andrew of spikyshooz.com has designed the cover. She’s such a joy to work with and always makes the design process easy.
Thank you to Kat Sheridan for her marketing skills, and a special thanks to the Ebook Formatting Fairies for preparing the book for publication.
If the description of Liza’s scar made you a little squeamish, you can thank my friend Holli Lindenfelser, BSN. She is my go-to medical professional for all things related to injuries, diseases, and anything else health related. Thanks, Holli!
Just like in past books, I’ve used my friend’s and family’s names without their permission, and I am so happy they are all still talking to me—especially my daughter, Liza. When I introduced Liza Fisk in Whatever You Say, I hadn’t intended to write a book with her as the main character. But there was something about this quirky, pink-haired (or blue or purple) artist that really captured my heart, and I just felt she deserved her own book. Thanks to the real Liza for the use of her beautiful name.
Finally, I want to thank my friends who have supported and encouraged me since embarking on this writing journey. And, most especially, I thank my husband Pat, son Tom, and daughter Liza for their continued love and support.
Thank you for reading Whatever We Are. If you enjoyed it, please help other readers find this book:
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Ready to read more?
Check out this excerpt of Stay Hidden,
a romantic suspense by Leigh Fleming, coming soon!
Chapter One
Riley strolled down the tree-lined street, past Victorian houses and Craftsman bungalows, as the sun sank low behind the rooftops and the spicy sweetness of blooming lilacs filled the air. Today had been bright and sunny, but now there was a nip in the breeze that made her draw her sweater tighter around the middle as she walked home from Beautiful Blooms. A dog barked from a backyard; she knew it was Tiny, the Putnam’s Rottweiler, who often escaped his yard and found his way to hers. She would give him a long scratch under his fuzzy chin and feed him a biscuit before he went on his way.
Just the thought of never seeing that smelly, lovable dog again made her eyes water.
She had stayed too long. Six months in one place was time enough to be found. Today, after her phone lit up with Unknown Caller for the umpteenth time, she decided it was definitely time to go. This weekend was Kate and Brody’s wedding, which she couldn’t miss since she was in charge of the flowers, but Monday morning, she would pack up her car before the sun came up and head to another town.
As she rounded the corner onto Maple Street, the sound of an idling truck drew her attention away from the beautiful pink dogwoods in the Finton’s yard. Over her shoulder she saw an old Ford cruising slowly down the street. It looked a lot like Brody’s truck, but the color wasn’t right and his didn’t have a dent in the grill. When the truck sped up and the driver-side window lowered, Riley’s heart rate tripled. She picked up her pace, looking around for anyone who might be outside, watering flowers or rocking on their porch, as the thumping in her chest made it hard to breath.
Four more houses and she would be in her front yard, just steps from safety. She spared another glance for the truck and noticed a plaid-sleeved elbow jutting from the driver-side window. She was practically running now, her hips aching as she drew within a hundred yards of her house.
“Hey,” the drive yelled.
It was him. She would recognize that voice anywhere. How had he found her? She had been so careful this time—kept a low profile, only paid in cash, replaced her track phone every couple of months. There was no way he could have traced her to Highland Springs.
With another look over her shoulder, she nearly lost her breath when the driver leaned his head out the window, drawing alongside her. His dark, wavy bangs flopped over his forehead, looking so much like—
“Excuse me.”
Riley couldn’t wait another second. He could be out of that truck and tackle her to the ground in a flash. She ran the final few yards to her porch. Her hand shook so violently she couldn’t get her key in the lock.
“Hey, can you tell me how to get to College Avenue?”
This time when she cast a look over her shoulder, Riley didn’t see a memory, but a dark-haired teenager who looked nothing like him.
“I’m sorry, Miss? I can’t find College Avenue.”
He didn’t even sound like him.
“Oh, um, okay…” Her mouth was so dry, she could barely speak. “It’s um…” Her arm felt weighted down as she pointed up the street. “It’s two more blocks that way.”
“Great. Thanks. Sorry to bother you.”
Riley sagged against the screen door as the old pick-up pulled away. She trudged to the edge of her porch, where she sank onto the top step and dropped her head into quivering hands. Another false alarm. Her mind, yet again, playing tricks on her. When would she stop seeing his face, hearing his voice? Not until he slipped up and was finally punished for his laundry-list of crimes. Until then, she would keep facing the fear she’d had since leaving Kentucky. She’d keep feeling it—and she’d keep running.
Riley’s heart skipped when a muffled meow floated from deep inside a blue hydrangea bush, its owner an orange striped tabby who leaped onto her steps. He slinked against her shins and dipped behind her knees, then forced his way onto her lap.
“Hello, Tiger. Not a good day, I’m afraid.” The cat belonged to Sam Smiley across the street, and often came for the kibble Riley kept on hand for his frequent vis
its. While she stroked the cat’s soft, fluffy coat, she replayed the scene over and over, in rhythm with Tiger’s rumbling purr, reminding herself it was just an illusion. He hadn’t found her. Not this time.
Legs heavy from the adrenaline that had coursed through her system, she couldn’t imagine standing right now—let alone running anywhere safe. She forced herself to take deep, steady breaths, stroking Tiger’s fur in rhythm with her inhales and exhales, until her heartbeat slowed and her tremors subsided. The evening breeze helped dry her damp forehead, lifting her hair to cool the back of her neck. She had to get herself under control. Her luck only had to hold out another few days, and then she could put her fears to rest—at least for a little while.
About the Author
Twenty years ago Leigh Fleming vowed to write a book someday and her goal finally came to fruition in 2013. Since the day she first sat down at the computer to write, she has been hard at work creating unique characters facing life’s challenges, but who are always rewarded with their happy ending. When she’s not writing in her windowless office, she enjoys reading, travelling, scrapbooking, and spending time with friends.
Leigh is a member of Romance Writers of America and the Washington Romance Writers chapter. She lives in Martinsburg, West Virginia, with her husband, Patrick, and her deaf French Bulldog Napoleon, and is mom to adult children, Tom and Liza.
Table of Contents
What We Are
CopyrightPublished by Envisage Press, LLC
Also by Leigh Fleming
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Whatever We Are Page 18