by Harlow James
“Just thinking about our wedding day,” I murmur in her ear as I turn us to the beat in the music.
Amelia and Annabelle are snapping pictures of us on their phones from their table, seated around their friends. Most teenagers think the idea of their parents showing affection for one another is disgusting. But our girls must be romantics at heart because they truly worship our marriage. They’ve seen their friends’ parents go through a divorce or grow up with only one parent, so they appreciate their lives more than a typical fifteen-year-old girl would. Knowing that I am setting an example for the men my daughters will marry one day, I take my job seriously to show Victoria how much I value and cherish her, especially in front of our girls. No one can ever doubt what I feel for her, and no one ever has ever since I was ten-years-old.
“I love you, Mike,” she whispers against my lips before sealing her words with a kiss that melts my heart in my chest.
“I love you too, Victoria. More than anything.”
“I think I love you more today than I did on our wedding day.”
“Is that so? I was just thinking the same thing, actually.” My hand on her back pulls her in closer to me so she’s pressed against my hard body. I’d like to think I’ve maintained my physique well enough for my age too. My wife sure doesn’t have any complaints. She says the greys in my hair are sexy too, so I own it. And she still likes to be bossed around in bed.
“It’s crazy because I never thought I could love you more than I did back then. I couldn’t get enough of you, you sexy man.” I chuckle.
“And then we had the girls, and we’ve faced all of life’s challenges, and lost my dad,” she wells up at the thought of him. “But now, I realize that beauty fades, money isn’t everything, and people will come and go. But at the end of the day, you are the only person I want to share all of that with.”
“Aww, babe. You’re gonna make me cry,” I tease her as she swats me on the chest.
“I’m trying to be heartfelt and emotional with you, and you have to joke about it.”
“I’m sorry,” I plead, pulling her in tighter as I feel her start to push away. “I agree wholeheartedly with everything you just said. I feel the same way about you, baby. And you know why?”
“Why?” Those pools of forest green stare back at me and I feel more alive than I ever have.
“Because you and me baby, we can get through anything. Our life may be complicated, but our love? It’s just that simple.”
THE END
OTHER BOOKS BY HARLOW JAMES
The Hopetown Series
Chasing Hope (Tyler & Hayley’s Story)
Destined to Be (Pauline & Dean’s Story)
Keep turning for a Preview of Chasing Hope
Acknowledgments
Mike and Victoria’s story was more difficult for me than the other two, mostly because I didn’t know what their story was when I was writing about Tyler & Hayley, or Pauline & Dean. An entire day of brainstorming with one of my best friends, and BOOM! Their story suddenly came to life! Once I knew where I was going, I couldn’t type fast enough. And even though there were so many details we thought of initially that didn’t make it into the final draft, I am SO thrilled with the way it turned out. I bawled typing the epilogue because by then, I knew what their love was like. I knew their love was the type we all want fifteen years from now, and I was happy that they found it (because I gave it to them of course).
This entire series was a whirlwind of emotions and characters that I’ll never forget. In fact, I don’t know if they’ll ever leave my mind. But my next book is already outlined and ready to come alive, so I know this is the end of Hopetown for me. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.
What started out as a bucket list item has quickly turned into a hobby, something I feel so intensely passionate about, it’s exhilarating! I’ve been searching for years for something to help me tap into my creative side, and reading and writing romance novels has quickly become my own form of solace. I have written THREE books since the end of March of 2019! The accomplishment is unreal and there are SO many people that I have to thank for their support!
To L: When Mike and Vic’s story clicked, I knew we found it! I couldn’t have faith in myself without the support that you have shown me. You are my book bestie and one of the best friends in life that I could have ever asked for. Thank you for discussing ideas and characters with me. Thank you for being honest about holes in the story and the emotion I’m trying to evoke. Thank you for listening, encouraging me, and sharing a love of love with me! I love ya, girl!
To R: As soon as you asked who Ben was at the end of Destined to Be, I knew I had the hook! I love hearing all of your reactions to my words and your unwavering support means so much! I love you, BB! Thank you for sharing in all of the enthusiasm and anxiety I’ve been feeling throughout this process! I hope you love this story as much as I do!
To my husband: Mike and Vic’s love is something I know that we strive for every day. There were so many elements of their relationship that came from our own. I knew I would marry you because I felt like I could get through anything in life if you were by my side. And I love you more now than I did on the day we said 'I do.'. Thank you for allowing and encouraging me to spend time on something that has become very near and dear to my heart. Thank you for entertaining the kids on the days when I HAD to write because the words were in my head and they HAD to come out! Thank you for being the man you are, because you make me the woman that I am.
To my babies: This journey I’m on is one I hope to share with you someday, when you are MUCH older and won’t blush. I hope to always provide an example for you that dreams can become reality and will change and develop as you get older. I can’t wait to see what dreams you develop as you grow. I love you both so much!
To my readers: Thank you for taking a chance on a self-published author. Thank you for falling in love with these characters. Thank you for sharing and supporting my hobby and dreams. None of this is possible without you. Being able to share my stories with you is beyond what I imagined when I set out to write a book in the first place. A lot of time has been invested in this art, just like all the time it takes to invest and grow a true love. I hope you find or have found yours. And I hope that everything after that becomes SIMPLE.
Sneak Peek of Chasing Hope
Chapter 1
Tyler
The unruly wind hits my face from the open window of the tow truck. It’s been a long day of learning the ropes around Uncle Mic’s shop and running errands for the business, and I am ready to clean the grease off me and call it a day.
The wide-open road is stretching in front of me, dark asphalt with heat waves permeating off of it, and green grass stretching for miles on both sides of the road. It’s definitely almost summer here in Nowhere Nebraska, USA. The humidity and hot pre-summer air give Georgia a run for its money for sure. But I would rather be here than there. Georgia. Where I used to think of as home. But now, Georgia just means pain. Mistakes. A life I needed to get away from. Nebraska is home now. Hopetown, Nebraska that is. And in my situation, hope is exactly what I need. Hope for a fresh start. Hope that I can escape my demons and start over.
I push the pedal harder to accelerate the tow truck and the rumbling and shaking gets louder and stronger. This P.O.S. needs to be retired, but I’m sure Uncle Mic will never agree to that. This truck is older than me, probably older than him. But his philosophy has always been to fix what’s broken, not replace it. Sorry Uncle Mic, but I’m afraid this truck may not have one more fix left in it.
Up ahead, I see a blob of red on the side of the road. As I get closer, I see the red shape form into a pickup truck whose age could probably rival that of this tow truck. But the truck is not what catches my eye. It’s the long-haired silhouette of a woman next to the truck that is kicking the rear tire and screaming, throwing her hands in the air to emphasize her point.
I go back in forth in my mind for about two seconds over
whether I should stop or not. The old Tyler would have just kept on driving, even in a tow truck, knowing this person clearly needed help. Sometimes I wish I could be that carefree again. Well, I don’t know if carefree would be the right word to use. Some part of me always cared, but it felt freer to pretend that I didn’t care. It helped masked the pain and guilt that I felt all day, every day. It was easier to make people think I didn’t care so I couldn’t disappoint them again. I was already a disappointment, one they grew to accept and expect, instead of the kid who had a good head on his shoulders and made one bad choice one night in high school that changed his future forever. Unfortunately, eight years later, I was just now trying to pull my head out of my ass.
I shake those thoughts from my head and start to decelerate, pressing the brake easy so as not to increase the shakiness of the truck. I pull over on the shoulder right behind the pick-up and the girl, who has seemed to calm down a bit, but is still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling quickly.
She turns to look at me and time stops. The first thing I see is her blue eyes, the color of turquoise, like the ocean in the Caribbean. Granted, I’ve never been, but I’ve seen pictures, and damn. Her eyes are better. Long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail with pieces that have fallen out in the front, framing her face. Full pink lips, rosy cheeks (probably from the exertion she just displayed), and a body that was made to be worshiped. Jean cutoff shorts hug her ass, toned legs stemming from under the hem, a white tank top clinging to all of her curves, and brown cowboy boots adorn her feet. She is a walking teenage dream. I feel a twitch in my pants, and I haven’t even spoken to her yet. I mentally calm myself while exiting the truck. I readjust my baseball hat on my head, with the bill facing back of course, and approach her.
“Hey. Everything ok? Need some help?”
“What does it look like?” she says. “Seriously? As if this day could get any worse!”
“My day has been hell too. How about I help you out? I do happen to have a tow truck.” I joke.
“Well, looky there,” she says sarcastically. “Looks like my day has FINALLY turned around!” I sense her sarcasm, ready to respond, but she continues, placing her hand in front of her, telling me to stop approaching her. “I appreciate you stopping, but I’m a big girl. I can change my own flat tire. My dad would have NEVER let me get my driver’s license if I couldn’t. I don’t need a man’s help. I just needed a moment to relish in this WONDERFUL day I’ve been having, throw a mini tantrum, and calm myself before I grab the spare from the back.” She lets out the breath she’s been holding before finally saying, “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”
I peek over into the bed of the truck, looking around. “What spare? I don’t see a spare back here.” She walks from the front of the truck to peek in the back, stumbling upon the lack of a spare tire. “You’ve GOT to be kidding me!” She throws her hands in the air, then her face in them as she brings them back down. She shakes her head for a minute, and then I hear muffled sounds of crying. SHIT. I do NOT handle crying girls. Screaming, yes. Moaning, you betcha. Crying, no way. I freeze, not sure what to do. But I have this pull toward her that I can’t understand in this moment. I really want to help turn her day around. I reach out to her and gently place my hand on her shoulder. She tenses, then looks up from her hands at me on her side.
“Listen, it’s not that big of a deal. Like I said, I have a tow truck.” I motion behind me with my thumb. “I was actually on the way back to the garage for the end of the day. I can hook you up and we will be on our way in no time.”
She stays silent for a minute, looking as if she doesn’t believe this is real. Then she lets out a long sigh. “Sorry, I just couldn’t take one more thing today. I’ve reached my breaking point. Thank you. A ride back would be perfect.” She starts walking toward the tow truck and stops, turning back towards me. “Wait. You work at Mic’s Garage? Why haven’t I seen you around before?”
“I just started today actually. Mic is my uncle. My name’s Tyler, but everyone calls me Ty.” I point to my name tag that has been haphazardly stitched on my uniform. And when I say uniform, I mean the dark grey Dickies button down from Walmart that my Aunt Sue buys for each of the mechanics and sews name tags onto. Aunt Sue and Uncle Mic do what they can to help their employees, but money doesn’t grow on trees. And owning a business in a small town will only afford you so many luxuries. Actual uniforms aren’t one of them. Pair those shirts with some old jeans and you’ve got the perfect ‘I’m gonna work on cars and can expect to be covered in grease everyday’ clothes to get the job done.
“Sue and Mic have been around for as long as I can remember, since before I was born. I didn’t even know they had a nephew. Why haven’t I seen you before?” She asks. Her head is tilted in a way that screams curiosity, but all I can see is the slope of her neck, creamy white skin that has been kissed by the sun and is begging to be touched. I clear my throat. Focus Ty. “I actually just moved here a few days ago from Georgia. My mom was Mic’s sister.”
“Was?” Her eyebrows draw together, asking why I used a past tense in describing my mom. “Yeah, she died when I was thirteen.”
“I’m sorry. I lost my mom too. I was ten. Breast cancer.” She turns away and starts toward the truck again. Well I guess that’s the end of that conversation. It’s better for me anyway. I don’t want to bring up any more of my past than I need to.
She reaches the passenger side and pulls at the handle, opening the door. I start toward the truck as well. We both hop in and close the doors as I proceed to start the truck and pull it in front of her pick-up. Once I’m happy with the position of both vehicles, I hop out to attach the chains to the front end of her truck. She appears on the other side of the truck and looks at me with her hands on her hips. I look up, startled that I found her there, but amused and curious as to what is going to come out of her mouth this time.
“Yes…” I draw out, unsure of the response I’m going to get. “I wanna help,” she replies as if it’s the most normal response to what I’m doing. Back home, not many girls would be itching to get their hands dirty. Of course, this isn’t Georgia, and this girl doesn’t seem like most girls.
“You know, I don’t even know your name yet. I don’t know if I should be letting you touch this fine piece of machinery,” motioning to the hunk of metal next to us. She chuckles. “Fine machinery, huh? Your truck and my truck might be in competition for the oldest trucks still in existence.”
“I think your right. But I still don’t know your name. What if something happens to you? You get hurt and I have to call for an ambulance? I wouldn’t look very responsible with you hurt and me not knowing who you are…”
She stares at me, a slight smile reaching the corners of her mouth. “The name is Hayley. Hayley Turner.” She reaches her hand out to shake mine, and I go to reciprocate, then glance down at my grease covered hands and start to pull away. “Sorry, hazards of the job.” I shrug.
“No worries. I don’t mind getting a little dirty.” She smirks. Jesus. Now my mind is full of dirty thoughts starring the long-legged blonde bombshell across from me.
“If you’re sure. I wouldn’t want you to think I don’t have manners. Tyler Montgomery.” I smile, extend my hand again, and this time she meets me halfway. As our fingers touch and hands become one, I feel a spark of electricity courses through my veins. I’ve never felt this touching another human being before. It scares the shit out of me, and I quickly withdraw my hand. She looks up at me, bewildered at my reaction, and then a scowl covers her face. Shit. I hope she didn’t think she did anything wrong. But seriously, what the hell was that?
“Ok then.” She starts, “show me what to do.” I start to explain to her how to hook up the chain to the frame of the truck, but before I can finish, she grabs the chain from me and does the task all on her own. As she stands back up, she wipes the sweat from her forehead on her forearm, leaving a trail of grease behind. Shit. She just went up ten notches on th
e hotness meter. The scale only goes up to ten still, right?
I look at her and start to chuckle. “What?” She asks, a hint of challenge in her tone. “You have a little something right...there,” I motion to her forehead, reach out my hand to her face, and begin to wipe. She stares at me while I smudge the grease around, not making it better AT ALL. Those turquoise eyes look into the depth of my soul. I freeze. Shit, this isn’t what I needed today. This isn’t what I need at all really.
“Sorry, I was trying to get the grease off of your forehead, but I seem to have made it worse.” I chuckle, but she doesn’t seem to think it’s funny. She walks back toward the tow truck and peeks in the side mirror, licks her thumb, and gets most of it off. “No biggie,” she says as she walks back. She doesn’t even sweat it. Grease on her face. Shit, this girl is something else.
I push the button that hoists the truck onto the bed, and we both stand there, alternately watching the truck and each other. Once the truck is up on the flatbed, I check to make sure it’s secure, and then we both head back into the cab. I start the engine and pull back onto the road that leads back into town. I catch a quick glance over at Hayley in the front seat. She turns to me and places her hand on my shoulder. Electricity again. Damn. I turn back to the road, then back to her.
“Thank you for your help, Tyler. Seems you were in the right place at the right time today.”
“No problem. Glad I could help. It does seem fate sort of stepped in, didn’t it?” She nods. I can’t help but feel, maybe this is fate. Maybe Hayley is a precursor to things to come. Maybe she is the hope I was meant to find in Hopetown.