by Fiona Archer
The vehicle spins, doing a complete three-sixty while remaining in the same spot.
“Holy crap!” My stomach churns and my hands flail around, looking for purchase. My right finds the oh-shit handle at the side of my seat, my left finds Luke’s thigh.
I jerk my hand away. “Uh, sorry.” The vehicle stops spinning, moving forward once again.
He laughs, looking completely unaffected. “Don’t worry. You’re safe. The MRV is designed for maneuvering in congested areas.”
Trying to shake the tingles out of my hand, I glare at him. “Like traffic jams on Mars?”
Luke ignores my sarcasm and continues driving. “Not traffic jams, but the terrain on other planets can be unpredictable. The MRV has to be prepared for craters, hills, large rock formations that can’t be circumvented. That sort of stuff.”
Taking a deep breath, I lean to the side, looking down at the ground. I can make out each small pebble and rock as we pass over. “Well, it’s definitely not built for speed.”
He shrugs. “True. Top speed is 40 mph, so no, it’s not particularly speedy. But it has other cool features.”
Finally, my stomach settles. “Like what?”
Immediately, I regret my question.
One moment we’re on a smoothed-out path of dirt, the next we’re moving sideways. Looking forward, but moving right, off the road and into the rocks.
“What the hell?” This time I lean forward, bracing myself against the dash. Nausea rolls through me.
“The MRV has e-corners.” His voice is smooth and unbothered. A quick jerk of the joystick moves us forward but looking left.
Goosebumps break out over my arms.
“E-corners?” It’s like I got on a ride expecting a Ferris wheel only to be plunged into rollercoaster turns.
“Yeah, the e-corners in the wheels can be controlled independently and rotated 180 degrees in each direction. So all four wheels can point and move in the same direction without turning the vehicle.” He moves the joystick with one hand and the steering wheel with the other, moving us in the direction we’re facing once again.
“Oh, thank God,” I mumble.
“Fun, right?” He glances at me before focusing on the controls. “Or they can be pointed perpendicular to the center of the vehicle, allowing rotation around the center axis.” The wheels turn ninety degrees, and once again we’re gliding sideways while facing front.
Sweat breaks out on my upper lip.
“Makes parallel parking a breeze,” he jokes.
“Uh huh.”
He finally looks at me with something other than a smile. “You okay?”
Like I’m going to admit to the Jolly Green Giant that I get motion sickness. “Just fine, thank you.” I give him the side-eye. “But if you want to stop this ridiculous tour, that’s fine too.”
“You kidding?” He’s as cheerful as a kid with an ice cream cone. “We’re just getting started.” He points to the small mountain of uneven, treacherous looking rock formations.
Annnnnd I’m out.
Literally.
I don’t even remember telling my body to do it, but suddenly I’m airborne, lunging for solid ground, ass over teacups.
“Em!” Luke’s voice booms across the open space.
Thud. “Fuck.” Ow.
The sky, swirls of blue, pink and orange as the sun sets, blinks in and out of darkness as I try and suck back the breath knocked out of me. I gag but manage to ride out the wave of nausea.
Stiff blades of grass poke my ass, alerting me that my skirt is hiked up over my waist.
Awesome.
Thud. Luke’s knees hit the dirt next to me. “What the hell, Em?”
“Ugh.” I shift, taking a deep breath through my nose, trying to roll over.
“Wait.” Luke rests his hand on my chest, holding me down. “Don’t move. You could’ve done something to your neck.”
“I’m fine.” I brush his hand off me. “Stop copping a feel.”
“I… I wasn’t.”
I’d laugh at the normally unflappable Luke Bisbee suddenly flustered, but my mouth suddenly floods with saliva.
Turning over on my stomach, I find the strength to lift myself on all fours.
“Hey! You guys okay?” The cameramen run over.
Oh crap. I try and swallow.
“Em, seriously, let me help.” Luke shifts, sitting in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, trying to brace my weight.
But before he can lift me, my stomach gives up the game.
And by that I mean I vomit. At NASA, on all fours with my panty-clad ass in the air and in front of camera-wielding witnesses.
All over the Jolly Green Giant.
For once, he doesn’t smile.
* * * *
Luke
“Why didn’t you tell me you get motion sickness?” I ask for what must be the umpteenth time, hands tight on the steering wheel of my truck.
“Why did you insist on spinning around in a billion-dollar piece of equipment like the tea cups at Disneyland?” Her mutinous expression hasn’t once wavered since I insisted on driving her home.
“I did not—"
“Turn here.” She points to the right.
I pull into a driveway lined with garden gnomes. Garden gnomes that have all been spray-painted gold.
I can’t make this shit up.
Em throws me a dark look. “Not a word about my gnomes.”
My nostrils flare, but I manage to hold in my laughter. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Her eyes narrow for a beat before she hops out. I follow, watching her small hips sway back and forth under her skirt. Hips clad in white panties with silver hearts. I know that because before she threw up all over me, Em managed some impressive summersaults in her leap from the rover that exposed more than I’m sure she’d like to know.
Unlocking the door with quick, aggressive movements, Em leaves it open but doesn’t look back to see if I follow. “I’m taking a shower.” She points to the couch on her way across the room. “Stay here. We need to talk.” She disappears around the corner.
I sit because I couldn’t agree more. In the past two years all my flirting attempts ever got me were a bunch of frowns, a kiss she regrets, and a pile of vomit.
I mean, who would’ve thought that picking up a girl in a NASA rover could fail so spectacularly?
Thankfully, I was wearing my jumpsuit when Em hurled all over me. I was able to simply shuck it off right before slowly driving Em back to Building 9 in my boxers and undershirt before changing back into my civilian clothes.
“All clean.” Em walks in, hair still damp from her shower. She’s wearing a pale pink robe, a matching top, and shorts with an outer space pattern.
Are those... ? I squint, trying to make out the pattern.
“Okay, Bisbee.” She walks closer, stopping a foot away. “We need to tal—”
I lift her right off the ground and settle her on my lap.
“Cats.” I spread her robe wide. “You have cats-in-outer-space pajamas.”
“What?” She looks down, her cheeks flushing. “Well… so what?” She tries to sound indignant, but she’s breathless, her struggle to get off my lap useless.
“You’re so cute.”
She rolls her eyes.
I skim my hands up her back. “I want you, Em.”
She stills. “We work together.”
“I don’t care.” My fingertips circle her shoulders.
She shivers.
“You kissed me.”
“I was—”
“And don’t say it doesn’t count ’cause you were drunk. You may have been buzzed, but that kiss was long past due. If it wasn’t for all the craziness lately with our jobs we would—”
“Exactly!” She shifts on my lap, the friction causing a different sort of problem to rise. “All that craziness stems from personal life astronaut drama I’ve had to deal with. And in case you forgot, you’re an astronaut. What kind of public relations
manager would I be if I let my personal feelings for you cause more drama?”
A large smile pulls at the corners of my lips. “So you’re saying you have feelings for me?”
Emily
Well shit.
“I…” Damn it, why are my damage control powers failing me now?
“Em.” Luke cradles my face in his hands. The touch calms my flustered heart. “Your past PR issues involved oil billionaires, International Space Station failures, pro-athletes, and stalkers. I’m thinking a microbiologist astronaut with a desk job and a public relations manager is small potatoes in the grand scheme of things.”
I bite my lip, trying to quell the hope rising in my chest. I’ve told myself a lot of things to squash my attraction for this man. Finding out he feels the same makes all my rationalizations seem silly.
He draws me closer, his perpetual grin replaced with sincerity. He touches his forehead to mine. “Em. Be with me, will you?”
I want to say yes. But I can’t help the doom and gloom side of myself from leaping forward. “Isn’t this a bit fast? We haven’t even dated. You might not like me.”
“Not possible.” His smile returns, melting my reserve.
“I mean—” I shift on his lap, surprisingly comfortable in this position. “I guess we could, um, date.”
He grunts and pulls back, his hands falling to my hips.
“In secret, of course,” I rush to reassure him. “See if this is something you want to pursue.” I draw my robe closed, feeling too exposed. “And then maybe, if… if it is, we could—"
“Not a chance.”
My eyes snap to his, confused. “But I thought—”
“What is going to happen is I’m going to spend the night.”
My mouth drops open while my downtown perks up at the implication.
“Then I’m going to drive you to work in the morning.” He loosens my grip on my robe, pushing it open again, his fingers trailing over the swell of my breasts.
My heart speeds up, but I try to focus on what he’s saying.
“After which”—his hands slide down to my waist—“I’m going to hold your hand while I walk you into the office.”
“Luke.” But there’s no fight in my voice. The picture he’s painting is something I’ve been too afraid to want. Something I worried I’d never have.
He dips his head, brushing his lips across my collarbone. “Then I’ll kiss you good-bye in front of all our co-workers.”
“Kiss?” My head falls back of its own volition as his lips make their way up my neck.
“Mm-hmm.” He cradles the back of my head, tilting it up again. “Yes. Like this.”
His mouth covers mine. The kiss is hot and heavy and wholly inappropriate for a good-bye work kiss.
I couldn’t care less.
Because when his tongue slides across mine and his large hands creep up under my cutesy pajama top to tweak my nipples, I’m helpless to do anything but kiss him back.
A minute. An hour. Sometime later, we stop. Both our chests heaving from breathing hard.
“What do you say, Em? Be with me. Be mine.” He kisses me once, lightly, then searches my face for answers. “I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making it impossible for you to frown at me. I’ll buy you space-related pins for your blouses, make sure you’re always well-stocked in glitter pens, and even spend my Saturdays spray-painting poor, unsuspecting garden gnomes gold if I have to.”
I’m lightheaded. Whether because I’m about to hyperventilate from pent-up lust or because his words are breaking me apart in the most delightful way, I’m not sure. What I am sure about is that I’m straddling a handsome, single, and from what I can feel between my legs, well-hung astronaut.
“Okay, Luke Bisbee. You got yourself a girl.”
He smiles his most dazzling smile yet, and I can’t help but return it. And then I kiss the holy hell out of him again.
Actually, I do a lot more than kiss him.
I mean, he is bought and paid for.
And if any other ho, ho, ho tries to steal my Jolly Green Giant, I will shank them with my glitter pen.
Copyright 2020 Sara L. Hudson
About Sara L. Hudson
Sara was an east coast wild child until her NASA engineer husband wrangled and shipped her down to Texas.
Now she lives in Houston with her smarty-pants husband, their two adorable kids and one fur-baby, Jack.
Sara has her master's in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University, England, and has had many different occupations on her way to becoming a romance novelist—shoe salesman, Hooter’s girl, florist, reporter/columnist, college professor…
These days you can find her coaching her kid’s soccer team, driving her husband crazy with house projects and planning her family’s next adventure.
And, you know, writing romantic comedies.
* * * *
Other books by Sara
SPACE SERIES
Space Junk (book 1), Jackie’s story
Space Cowgirl (book 2), Jules’ story
Space Oddities (book 3), Trish’s story
Space Balls (book 4), Rose’s story
Space Age (book .5) Rebecca’s story
MAVERICK SERIES (coming 2021)
* * * *
How to Find/Follow Sara
Newsletter: https://www.saralhudson.com/contact
Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/SaraLHudsonWriter /
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19909868.Sara_L_Hudson
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Sara-L.-Hudson/e/B083MZ428M
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sara_l_hudson/
Bookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/sara-l-hudson
Believe in Me
by
Sierra Cartwright
Chapter One
“I’d like that latte with a heart on the top.”
Stunned, her world suddenly tipping sideways, Kara brought her head up.
Even though it had been two months since he vanished from her life and her bed, Brant Gibson’s baritone was as intimate as it was familiar. Every night, its richness wound through her fantasies.
“Will you do that for me?”
Will you do that for me? Her knees almost buckled. To anyone else, the question would sound innocent. But it wasn’t. Instead, it was calculated to remind her of their past. A hundred times in the bedroom, he’d asked her that exact same thing. Despite her nerves, she’d whisper her consent, and he’d push the boundaries of what she thought nice girls did and did not do.
Milk suddenly boiled over the side of the metal carafe she was holding, and the nozzle spewed steam.
“Kara?”
Her sister’s voice cut into Kara’s trance, and she shook her head to clear it.
Lilliana reached over to turn the knob, cutting off the steam.
The sudden silence ricocheted through her.
“Are you okay?” Lilliana asked, her eyebrows knitted together.
“Yes.” No. She shot her sister a reassuring half smile.
Still frowning, Lilliana returned to the customer she’d been helping.
Then, unable to avoid him any longer, she took him in, greedy even though she should be steeling herself against him.
Brant was every bit as devastating as he’d been the last time she saw him. A black T-shirt snuggled his body, showing off his impossibly broad chest and massive biceps.
Despite herself, a tingle rippled through her at the memory of him holding her, his strong arms protecting her from an uncertain world.
And then he captured her gaze, and she couldn’t look away no matter how hard she tried.
His once-bright green eyes were now shadowed with pain. And maybe regret?
Even more startling, a white line—a new, angry scar—arrowed down the right side of his jawline, ending frighteningly close to his jugular.
For a moment, she stared at the pulse beating there, reassuring herself that he was okay.
> “My drink?”
They’d met over a year ago at her family’s lodge in the Nevada mountains. Then, as now, she was helping out in the coffee shop, and latte art was one of her specialties.
He’d stopped in to warm up after getting caught in a deluge. Soon, she saw him every Saturday. After six weeks, he asked her out. By way of answer, she crafted a heart on top of his latte.
His delighted smile had lit the darkest places inside her, encouraging her to take chances she never thought she would.
The following months had been filled with laughter, deep conversations, mountain hikes, and hot sex that she still couldn’t stop thinking about. Over the summer, he’d left for several weeks, rather unexpectedly. He’d said it was for a work project, and he hadn’t spoken of it when he returned.
As besotted as she was, Kara had succumbed to the devilish intent in his eyes instead of asking questions.
Then, two months ago, without warning, he’d left again, this time without saying goodbye. As the days silently dragged on, she realized how stupid she’d been. Instead of blindly falling in love, she should have taken an objective look at the relationship.
What did she really know about him?
Brant had never invited her to his apartment, and she never met any of his friends.
He’d said he was an instructor. She’d assumed that meant at the local college, and he didn’t correct her.
An air of danger surrounded him, and he was nothing like any professor she’d ever met.
Though she definitely wasn’t an internet sleuth, she’d looked up the faculty rosters at all local schools and hadn’t found him on any of them.
When she’d accepted that he wasn’t coming back, Kara had hired a manager for the lodge and moved to Jackson, Wyoming, to help open her family’s newest resort.
“Strawberry-and-cream frothy!” Lilliana called out, sliding a clear plastic cup onto the counter.
Grateful for her sister’s prompting, Kara shook her head and returned to Brant’s drink. Carefully she crafted a heart in two distinct, broken parts. Then she placed the cup on the counter.