by Sarah Gay
She floated along calmly for over three hours with dozens of other river passengers hoping to get some relief from the blistering heat. She allowed the vitamin D from the sun to lift and lighten her spirit. A few people on the water preferred the grassier way of relaxing. Did they not understand how incredibly nasty they smelled when they smoked that stuff? Ginny had had to hold her breath on several occasions.
Three hours turned out to be a little too much downtime without someone to share it with. She would have invited Scarlett, but her sister had run downtown to pick up some of those touristy souvenirs for her friends.
When her stomach gave a hearty grumble, Ginny made the decision to come out of the river next to her favorite sushi restaurant. Perhaps Scarlett would join her for their last riverside meal before they drove home the next day.
Ginny dropped her tube next to the restaurant and called her sister. No answer. She sent her a text letting her know where she’d be, then parked herself on an outdoor table overlooking the river. At five o’clock, Ginny had practically the entire restaurant to herself. Maybe she would miss this place.
When her waiter placed the Rhinestone Cowboy Roll onto her table, her mouth watered. She imagined they called it that because of the multicolored roe sprinkled on top that resembled round sparkly rhinestones. She quickly snatched up a piece and moaned as her taste buds marveled at the explosion of flavors.
“Congratulations, Ginny!” Holly, the Caucasian Rastafarian waitress who normally waited on Ginny, came to her table and threw her arms around her neck. She smelled like the smokers on the river, like burnt leaves, hay, and chicken droppings mixed together.
Ginny didn’t want to be rude, but she had no idea what Holly was referring to. “Thanks,” she said, taking another bite of sushi. “But…what are we celebrating again?”
Holly changed the patio television from the sport’s channel to the five o’clock local news.
Ginny’s heart dropped when a video of Torin and Scarlett smooching at the sportsman’s expo flickered across the screen. Her throat dried up, causing her to cough. She held up a finger. “Can I get a glass of water, please?”
“Yeah. Sure.” Holly looked at her with concern. “And I’ll turn up the volume.”
Ginny wanted to shout No! but she didn’t want to make the situation any more awkward or painful than it already was. Holly obviously thought it was Ginny, not Scarlett, Torin was kissing in that video.
Ginny snatched up the largest slice of sushi with her chopsticks and shoved it in her mouth. She would comfort-eat the hurt away.
Suddenly, the newscaster’s voice boomed. “You heard it here first, folks. It has been confirmed that our very own Ginny Young is engaged to NFL star Torin Godfrey.”
Ginny sucked in a quick, panicked breath. Unfortunately, she still had a large piece of sushi in her mouth that she hadn’t fully chewed or swallowed. She gasped for air as she simultaneously attempted to expel the lump of sticky rice with a cough. She stood and threw herself into the end of the log fence that protected the restaurant patron’s from falling into the river below. With the help of the blunt force to her abdomen, she was able to cough the rice out.
Ginny turned around to face her table and a happy Holly bouncing toward her, unaware that her customer had nearly choked to death.
Holly waved her hands in the air with excitement. “You didn’t tell me he was coming here?”
Ginny’s brows knit together as she sipped her cool water, loving how it soothed her irritated throat. “Who?”
“Your fiancé, of course,” Torin said as he strode across the patio like he owned all of Texas.
“How did you find me?” Ginny’s head grew light and dizzy. “And why?” she asked him.
“Something you said to me that first time we kissed. ‘You can run and hide but I will always find you’.” He held his hands out to her. “And because I love you, Ginny.”
She shook her head and took a step back, even though what she really wanted to do was feel his arms around her and taste his lips. “This is a mistake. I won’t allow you to get hurt.”
He shrugged as he advanced to her. “Who says I’m going to get hurt.” He lifted his arm and flexed. “If they show me their guns, then I’ll show them mine.” He shrugged. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll have you protect me. I hear you’re quite good at that.”
“You need to leave,” she protested. “People want me dead.”
“A little thing like people wanting to kill us, and you tasering me, isn’t going to keep me away.”
The guilt grew in her gut. “Yeah.” She scrunched up her nose. “I’m really sorry about zapping you.”
“It’s okay,” he said, now inches away from her, causing her thighs to quiver.
She swallowed. “No. It’s not okay. I didn’t know what else to do. I needed to get to Scarlett quick.”
“Really,” he reaffirmed as he slid his hand down her arm and took her hand.
She released a sigh of relief as his touch, the physical connection between them, quieted her every misgiving.
Torin continued, “I’m serious.” His eyes held hers. “Now I have points saved up for when I mess up, like when I forget our anniversary…or drop the baby on his head.”
“Baby?” Her head spun. “Anniversary?” If she hadn’t been leaning into his chest, she would have fallen over.
He took her by the hand and led her to a bench overlooking the river. He went down onto one knee in front of her and held out his arm with his pinky finger extended. “Ginny Young, I have told the world that I plan to love you for all eternity, but there’s a problem.”
She blinked her eyes as her tears warmed her cheeks. “What’s that?”
“I didn’t lie about loving you for eternity, but I did lie when I told the world we were engaged. I am here on my knees.” He pointed to the ground. “Begging you to keep a promise you made to me.”
Ginny tilted her head to the side and looked into his clear blue eyes, the kindest eyes she’d ever known. “What promise?”
His entire face lit into a smile. “You promised to make an honest man of me.” He looked at his hand with the outstretched pinky finger. “Will you keep that promise to me and be my wife?”
“Yes!” she yelled, linking her pinky finger with his. “I promise.”
She brought their linked hands into her chest as she pressed her forehead to his.
“Can I kiss you now?” he whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because we have an audience.”
Ginny had been so immersed in her dizzying joy that she hadn’t noticed the crowd surround them. Scarlett stood front and center, holding Demitri’s hand with Cole and Maggie at their sides. She had no clue who the rest of the people were, but it didn’t matter, she would live and breathe for Torin now; from now until eternity.
“Is that a yes?” His eyes begged. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she said. “Now and forever.”
As their lips met, her world was finally as it should be, filled with hope and promise.
The End
* * *
Maggie’s story
Excerpt from Texas Titan Romance:
The Forbidden Groom
The blaring tones woke Maggie from her restless sleep. She sprang out of bed, fully clothed, and sprinted for the pole. Her brain scrambled to process the emergency notification broadcast over the intercom as she jumped forward, wrapping one arm and an opposing leg around the cool metal bar. Her socks hit the apparatus bay floor in an instant. It took her less than a minute from the time she first heard the tones for her to be suited up and in the engine with her fanny pack and medical bag. She looked over at Kyle with a nod and the engine started to move.
“Did I hear that correctly?” Maggie adjusted the volume on her radio. “A submerged car in Jordanelle reservoir?”
Her captain nodded. “Never seen that before.”
“But the road is so far from the water.
” She couldn’t wrap her mind around it. “How could that have happened?”
Kyle, their fearless engineer, cranked up the siren as he approached a streetlight. “Sounds like the car went in from a campsite near the water’s edge.”
She threw her hands in the air. “I know it’s spring, chronologically speaking, but it’s still cold here in the mountains. Who camps in freezing weather?” She didn’t understand these crazy outdoorsmen in Utah. California made much more sense.
Kyle managed the countless bends and curves of the narrow road as he wound around the reservoir with expertise.
Maggie raised an eyebrow. “How many times have you been on this road, Kyle?”
“We kept a boat here when I was a kid.” He shrugged. “We were here most of the—” Kyle’s voice broke as they pulled into the campsite and their lights shone on a couple standing at the water’s edge. The frantic woman pounded on a man’s chest and motioned to the lake. Their clothes hung from their bodies like the chains of Jacob Marley in Dicken’s A Christmas Carol, and their eyes held a despair similar to what one would imagine a haunting ghost to have.
The crew bounced from the engine.
“What happened?” the captain asked.
The woman fell to her knees. “She was cold and crying, so my husband put her in the car and turned on the engine. We were packing up when…” She looked to the water.
“She’s been down there for at least half an hour.” The man pulled at his hair. “We’ve been trying to get her out.”
Maggie could make out the car’s shape. The top of the roof sat around two or three feet under the water’s surface. The doors would most likely be locked. Maggie grabbed the rescue axe just as a patrol car stopped at her side and an officer emerged.
The officer held his hand out to Maggie. “We’ve got rescue divers, Heavy Crew, and helicopter on their way.”
“Good,” Maggie said in defiance as she ran to the water and dove in.
A thousand pins penetrated her skin, constricting her chest and causing her nerves to falter. Maggie was raised swimming in the cool northern California ocean. This is nothing, she told herself in an effort to calm her racing heart. The full moon provided limited light once she reached down past two feet. The absence of light blinded her. She returned to the surface, took in a deep inhale, then immediately plunged deeper, feeling her way through the water until her hand hit something hard.
She pushed herself deeper as she ran her hand down to a door handle. She pulled with all her strength on the handle as she pushed off the door with her feet for sufficient resistance to break the glass with the axe in her other hand. Her hands ached from the cold as she struck the window with force. The glass held firm. In anger and frustration, she struck again and again.
She swam to the surface, breathed in another long breath, and dove back down. She altered her position slightly and released the axe with waning strength but increased determination.
A soft ting echoed through the water as glass shards fractured and floated around her. Maggie pulled herself in through the window frame, reaching forward until her hands located a body. She thought to open the car door from the inside but didn’t have more than a few seconds of oxygen remaining in her lungs. She willed her body not to breathe in the water as she pushed the little girl’s body out the window and then followed.
When Maggie reached the water’s surface, she immediately pushed the young girl’s head out of the water. The girl was stick-thin and looked to be around seven or eight. Maggie’s legs and free arm treaded the water at a rapid pace to keep them both above the surface. She blew two breaths in the girl’s mouth before a strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her toward land.
“Thanks, Kyle,” she said once she regained her breath.
He gave her a stern look as they climbed onto the bank and laid the girl onto her side to expel any water, then repositioned her onto her back where one of the paramedics was ready to continue mouth-to-mouth. “Sometimes you forget we’re a team.”
“Sorry.” Maggie raised her eyes to the medical helicopter as it landed. “I just thought that you might try and stop me.” She challenged him with a look. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“She’s not responding,” the paramedic said after performing chest compressions. “We need to call her.”
“Let me try,” Maggie voiced with determination, motioning for the paramedic to step aside. “I can bring her back.”
Maggie continued with the chest compression until Kyle touched her shoulder.
“It’s time,” Kyle said in a heavy voice. “We need to hand her over.”
* * *
Three hours later, Maggie slammed her yellow Jeep into park and glanced at her phone before pocketing it. No new emails. The results from her DNA swab should be in today. Her body tensed from the cold as she jumped out into the frigid air. Her yellow slicker boots hit the pavement with a crunch. If she wore her spring boots then maybe Mother Nature would act accordingly. No luck, still icy. Late April often meant spring blossoms, but in Park City, Utah, Jack Frost still utilized his tomfoolery to produce a thin layer of morning ice to tease and torment.
As a firefighter, Maggie loathed icy roads. Slick roads meant accidents and accidents meant death. She grabbed the cloth grocery sack out of the back seat and rested her shoulder against her Jeep’s cool metal frame. She breathed in the fresh mountain air, filling her lungs to complete capacity, and then some. She appreciated air more than ever today. The moisture from her breath clung to the water particles in the air as she slowly exhaled.
She needed to pound some pans together and feel the warmth of Pineapple’s smile.
Maggie took one last steadying breath before making her way through the parking lot to the Polynesian restaurant’s glass door. She ran her hand along the ribbed lanyard around her neck, glancing down before tinkering with the keys to find the one to the restaurant.
On her mornings off, she had full reign of Pineapple’s kitchen to explore the world of culinary delights as she pleased, often creating a French meal for Pineapple before his workday began. Today, she’d make the two of them French onion soup—the perfect comfort food. Then she’d help Pineapple prepare for the lunch rush before sneaking home to take a nap. Her body craved sleep, but her mind habitually tormented her the moment her head hit the pillow.
Culinary therapy would clear her mind and release her tension before she returned home to her solitary studio apartment. She had researched equestrian therapy when she realized how traumatic responding to horrific accidents could be, but anything involving a horse was super expensive. Horses spoke to a part of Maggie, and brought her a type of joy that no one else ever had—but she couldn’t afford a horse, so she stuck with cooking lessons instead, something Dax, a firefighter from the other shift, told her had helped him through his PTSD.
Maggie wiggled the key into the keyhole. A soft warm breeze tickled Maggie’s ear, causing her mind to fly back to a balmy summer afternoon in Healdsburg, California. Rosco shakes his head, causing the dust from his mane to produce a fog-like affect in the waning afternoon sunlight. I relax the reins as I lean forward in my saddle and wrap my arms around his neck. My cheek brushes the bristly, burnt-red hair of his mane, causing a warmth to erupt in my chest.
Rapid, high-pitched beeping from the alarm panel woke Maggie from her happy thoughts. She stepped over to the pad and disarmed it. She missed Rosco. If only she could find an authentic, assiduous cowboy.
She shook her head at her naiveté. She had come to Park City after the Sonoma Valley fires decimated Vernay Vineyard where she and her family had worked for over a decade. Tori Terrence had offered for Maggie to come stay with her family in Park City. Tori’s late husband had been a cowboy and Tori was convinced that if Maggie had her eyes set on a cowboy then all she had to do was come live with her for a few months, but it didn’t prove that easy.
At first, the intimate charm of the small mountain town saturated Maggie’s soul; everything was more r
omantic when new and unfamiliar. Once a rough-n-tumble miner’s town, Park City was now elegant and refined; a little too refined for Maggie’s taste.
Having been a firefighter here for over a year, nearly every street held a dark memory for her, and last night one more horrific memory was added to her repertoire of nightmares.
Maggie walked through the dining area with firefighter t-shirts from around the world adorning the walls and brightly painted wooden tables and chairs. She smiled to herself at how Pineapple’s invoked a sentiment of reliving one’s childhood, with primary colors splattered across the furniture and the scent of sweet bread hanging in the air. She skipped into the kitchen, her feet growing lighter with each step deeper into the restaurant.
She set the oven to preheat then carried her bag to the center of the room to the long metal counter and began offloading her groceries onto the shiny surface.
Would she give up her career? She loved so many things about firefighting. She earned good money, enough to be completely independent. Her male co-workers were amazing; they treated her like one of the guys, which was all right with her. Her fellow firefighters were attractive, but most of them had girlfriends or wives. Thankfully, they behaved like gentlemen.
It should have perhaps offended her that none of her single co-workers had asked her out, but how could she blame them? She’d never been accused of being overly feminine. She never wore make-up and always kept her long, straight black hair pulled up through a baseball cap or set in a messy bun on top of her head. Growing up, the neighborhood boys accepted her as one of their own.
And she was tough. By the time she turned fifteen, even with her petite frame, she could carry close to what the adult men in the fields and vineyards could. Now, at twenty-four, her strength enabled her to snag a job as a firefighter. Hiking up a mountain with a hundred pounds of gear was not for the faint of heart.
Maggie would have settled for a ripped firefighter, but she was better suited for a farm boy or a rancher who could appreciate her work ethic and strength. It was time to expand her search.