“So it’s going to be like that, is it?” I growled happily.
She looked up into my face with a failed attempt at innocent eyes. “Like what?”
“You’ll go out and play in the rain, and then come home expecting me to warm you up?”
She grinned. “Yep, pretty much like that. Except when you come out to stomp in puddles with me.”
I kissed the tip of her very cold nose. “It’s been a long time since I’ve stomped in puddles.”
She quirked her head and looked at me. “Why?”
I looked over the top of her head at the white-capped wind waves and thought about the conversation I’d had with Reza a few days before. I’d lain awake most of that night considering what I now realized was true, and I searched for the words to explain something that had only ever been a memory from which I flinched.
“I’ve told you that I was seven and Reza was three when my parents decided it was time to leave Iran?” I looked down to find her watching me intently, and I smiled to lessen the serious expression my words had put there.
“My job was to watch him when we were out of the house, as he had a particular tendency at that age to follow any dog that wandered by. A car was coming to take us to the airport, and my parents were bringing the big suitcases they’d packed full of our family’s valuables out to the street. They had given us a new bouncy ball and set of jacks with which to amuse ourselves while they went in and out of the house, so we sat in the entry hall by the open door and played.”
Anna’s eyes were focused on my face as my words began to clog in my throat. “A puppy wandered up to see what the commotion was, and Reza ran outside to say hello to it. I remember thinking that my parents would stop him and I could just keep playing with the jacks, but they didn’t see Reza or the dog, and when Reza ran up to the dog he startled it.”
“Oh no,” Anna whispered.
My gaze landed on nothing but the past as I continued. “The puppy ran away from Reza straight into the street, where it was hit by the car that had come to take us to the airport.”
Anna gasped softly, and the pressure of her hands on my skin brought me back to the present, where I stood in the biting wind, on a cold and choppy lake, with this remarkable woman in my arms.
I kissed her lips softly and then backed the throttle off as we neared the jetty. “I remember first knowing that I’d failed at my job, and then getting so angry at Reza for not following the rules,” I continued quietly. “He, of course, was devastated, inconsolable, which was my fault too. But he was also three, and very likely has no memory of the same things I still see when I close my eyes.” The images of blood and fur had colored all my worst nightmares, but it had been years since I’d dreamed I’d been able to save the dog.
I shook myself from the memory. “The other day, Reza said something that really resonated with me. At seven years old, I made a decision that the dog’s death was my fault. I had chosen to play jacks instead of enforcing the rules. Never mind that my parents were right there, or that any animal startled by an intent three-year-old was going to run. And never mind that I was just a kid playing a game while his parents planned their escape from a government that had killed their friends.”
I kissed her again, lingering this time in the scent of her. “Somewhere along the way I forgot that a child had made the rules by which I was living,” I said softly to her lips.
I reluctantly left her mouth in order to steer the boat into the harbor, and then Anna helped me dock it, tie off, and put the cushions away. The clouds had become somewhat menacing, and the wind was blowing sea spray onto the deck, so we closed ourselves belowdecks and shut the hatch behind us.
Anna was shivering when she finally stopped moving long enough to notice the cold, and her skin was red from the wind. “Come,” I said, holding my arms open, “let me warm you.” She went into my arms with a sigh and nestled her face into my chest. “Put your hands under my sweater if they’re cold,” I said, wanting the connection with her, even at the cost of my body heat.
“Actually, it’s my feet that are cold,” she murmured.
“All right, then, under the covers with you,” I said.
She looked up at me through narrowed eyes, “Not alone, I hope.”
I laughed. “Is that an invitation or a command?”
“Which will work better?” she asked with feigned innocence.
The grin on my face echoed the one in my heart. “Anna Collins, I’m going to say this out loud now, so there’s no question about timing or intent. I am in love with you. Totally, completely, without question, in love, and I think I have been since the day we spent here, on this boat. And though I said I couldn’t bear to lose you up on your garden roof, I’ve realized that if you aren’t you, I’ve lost you already. So you be you, I’ll write new rules that are me, and together we can figure out us.”
She stepped back, frowned at me, and then kicked off her boots and unbuttoned her jeans. “You better strip down, buddy, because the last one naked in that bed has to be on top.”
“Has to be?” I grinned, kicking off my shoes and pulling off my sweater.
“It’s freaking cold in here,” she complained, as she pulled off her T-shirt, kicked off her underwear, and prepared to leap onto my bed.
I grabbed her around the waist and she shrieked. “Too cold!”
I kissed her. “Tell me I didn’t freak you out just now.”
She stared at me. “Are you kidding? Those are the biggest turn-on words I’ve ever heard. They are like the sun, shining so brightly they’re hard to look at, and like the ocean, so vast and deep they make me afraid. They’re the words of fluffy bunnies and corgi puppies, of the smell of fresh bread and babies’ heads, the taste of chocolate mousse and movie theater popcorn. They’re every new idea, every possibility, everything hopeful and true. They’re bucket-fillers, not bucket-dippers, and what you just said to me is exactly the way I feel about you. Times a thousand.”
She wriggled out of my arms and flung herself on my bed, then burrowed under the covers while I finished undressing. She poked her head out and looked serious. “Tell me you restocked Brazen and the Beast.”
I grinned at her. “Really? You think we’re going to need—”
“YES!”
I slid beneath the covers and pulled Anna’s naked body to me. “We are going to have soooo much fun,” she whispered into my mouth. And then she kissed me, and I forgot about rules and history and the cold, and all I could be was with her.
Epilogue
Anna
“I must endure the presence of a few caterpillars if I wish to become acquainted with the butterflies.”
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Rexie and the dino tie were a hit at the Masoud family Sunday roast, and in the following months at least one of us tried to surprise the others with something outrageous every Monday. The best so far were either Reza’s rhinestone platform boots or the silver evening gown Silvana wore the week after the dinosaurs made their appearance.
I walked in through the kitchen door, my hands covered in boat engine grease as usual, and greeted Silvana with a kiss on the cheek before scrubbing my hands at the sink. “Reza’s boat is almost ready to launch,” I said as I dug the black muck out from under short fingernails, “and Darius is trying to get him a slip at the marina near us.”
“That’s good. Reza will have the calming influence of his brother, and Darius will have another playmate to remind him not to be so serious all the time,” she said as she piled roasted vegetables onto a platter already overflowing with koobideh kebabs, falafel, pita, and all the sauces and dips to make a perfect summer-time picnic.
“Here, I’ll take that outside,” I said, reaching for the platter that we would eat at a table Darius and his brother were setting up in the back yard.
“Wait, Anna, I have something for you,” Silvana said, reaching for a box behind her and placing it in my hands.
“But—”
“Never argue against
receiving a gift freely given. There are strings attached, but only the most literal kind,” she said with a smile.
I untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was the most wonderfully girly apron, complete with ruffles and a handy pocket, made from fabric covered in pink and purple dinosaurs. “It’s perfect!” I gasped. I put it on over my linen T-shirt and tied it around my waist, admiring my reflection in the window. “Thank you, Silvana.”
She tucked my hair behind my ear with a smile. “Thank you, Anna. You’ve brought so much laughter into my family, and you’ve put stars in my son’s eyes.”
“All the better to see you with, Mum,” Darius said as he kissed her cheek, then wrapped his arms around my waist. “Nice dress,” he said to me with a grin.
I held the skirt of the apron out and curtsied. “Thank you,” I said happily, then whispered dramatically, “I think your mom kind of likes me.”
“Me too,” he whispered back just as dramatically. “I mean she probably does, but I definitely do.”
Silvana smacked him with a dish towel. “Take the platter out when you go,” she said, her eyes shiny with laughter.
Darius turned me around to face him. “In a minute, Mum, I’m busy kissing my thief.”
I gasped in mock indignation. “I’m not a thief.”
“You stole my heart and have kept it in your back pocket since then.”
I grinned at him. “So you’re saying you like being on my good side?”
He laughed and kissed my nose. “You continue to steal the covers, my socks, and any shreds of dignity I pretend to have. But mostly, you’ve stolen my will to ever be without you.”
He put his hand in the pocket of my new apron and pulled out a ring. “Anna Collins, my thief, my love – will you marry me?”
He slipped the most beautiful gold filigree band studded with seeds of Persian turquoise on my ring finger as I gasped, “YES!”
The room behind me erupted into cheers, and I realized his whole family had just shared in our engagement. And then I turned to see my sister there too, and I realized that this remarkable man had planned the perfect surprise. He was my honor – he was integrity and truth and his love gave me wings.
I shot kisses to Colette and wrapped my arms around my prince as all the butterflies in the world took flight and carried us up to dance on the wind.
* * *
The End.
A Note from the Author
“I love history, any kind of history, and even better if it’s hidden, secret, or underground.” Those are words time-traveler, Saira, says in book one of my Immortal Descendants series, Marking Time, and they speak directly to my soul. I can spend days down internet rabbit holes, researching historical facts to suit my stories, and my favorites are the anomalies that pop up between sources – those become the mysteries that my characters solve in my books.
The history of the Gardner heist, as presented by D (the reporter), and Crystal and Amber (museum docents) is, according to my research, accurate. I’ve never been to the Gardner museum in person, but I found the blueprints for it on the Library of Congress website, and with those I tracked down the annex and the hidden door. The photo of the crime scene, showing the open panel, is real, the music gigs and parties the guards held were real, and I found one blog post that mentioned the game of avoiding the motion sensors the night guards used to play throughout the museum, which I dubbed sensor tag. There was also one mention, buried deep in another post, about the Madame Auguste Manet having been out of the Blue Room for restoration on the night of the heist – thus, a plot was born.
My friend Christi flew to Boston specifically to visit the Gardner museum for me, and we spent an hour on Facetime as she walked me through the museum, finding the answers to questions I fed her through her headphones. As she approached the Blue Room, I spotted the decorative metal hook above it, which gave me a plausible way in for the thief. She’s also the one who mentioned that there seemed to be fascinating little stories in the arrangements of art, so I gave them back to the character I named after her. Christi has my deepest gratitude for her generosity and willingness to listen to me babble in her ear as I worked things out.
Thank you to Agnes for inspiring Sophia, to Anna for inspiring herself, to Jen and Mahyad for their extraordinary generosity, and to my editors, Angela and Rebecca – there aren’t enough languages in the world for me to thank you as thoroughly as you both deserve. Without you two and my husband Ed (who fed me and kept our family running), this book would not have been possible.
And finally, thank you Penny Reid, for your trust, your patience, your generosity, and your friendship. You’ve created a family with Smartypants Romance, and it’s a sisterhood of support, laughter, connection, and love that stems from the stand you’ve taken in our community. You, and the readers who found you, are extraordinary.
About the Author
APRIL WHITE has been a film producer, private investigator, bouncer, teacher and screenwriter. She has climbed in the Himalayas, lived on a gold mine in the Yukon, and survived a shipwreck. She and her husband live in Southern California with their two sons, dog, various chickens, and a lifetime collection of books.
Facebook is a solid source of distraction for her, and therefore, her Facebook page, April White Books, is usually the first place to find news, teasers, quotes, and excerpts from her books. She also has a secret reader group on Facebook, called "Kick-Ass Heroines." If you'd like to get in on some of those conversations, you can request an add here: Kick-Ass Heroines.
Instagram is probably her favorite social media site because she finds so much inspiration for her plots and characters among other people’s photos. Follow her there for books, travel, and the occasional profound observation.
Goodreads is another place to find her lurking around the stacks and spying on her friends' reading habits. Become her Goodreads friend so she can see what you're reading, too.
Marking Time was the 2016 Library Journal Indie e-book winner for Young Adult books, and was chosen by Library Journal for national inclusion on both the fantasy and young adult SELF-e Library Select lists on Biblioboard, The whole series is also available for libraries nationwide through Overdrive, and April is very happy to participate in any library (or bookish) events to which she's invited.
Website: https://www.aprilwhitebooks.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AprilWhiteBooks/
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6570694.April_White
Twitter: @ahwhite
Instagram: @aprilwhitebooks
* * *
Find Smartypants Romance online:
Website: www.smartypantsromance.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/smartypantsromance/
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/smartypantsromance
Twitter: @smartypantsrom
Instagram: @smartypantsromance
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Read on for:
1. A Sneak Peek of Cutie and the Beast, Book #3 in the Cipher Office Series by M.E. Carter
2. April White’s Booklist
3. Smartypants Romance’s Booklist
Sneak Peek: Cutie and the Beast by M.E. Carter, Book #3 in the Cipher Office Series
ABEL
“Good mornings, sweets.” I snuggle into her long dark curls to kiss her forehead when THWACK! “Son of a…” I stop myself before cussing in front of my kid, but damn. She got me right in the nose and that shit stings.
“Sorry, Daddy,” my sweet baby girl says groggily, while I rub my schnoz and make sure it’s not bleeding. “I dreamed you were Mommy.”
“And in this dream, you were practicing your kickboxing on her?”
Her eyes close while she innocently says, “You told me to take out my aggression appropriately.”
She’s not wrong. I’d said it in response to Mabel’s therapist deciding the best way to take her anger out about her mother leaving us was to be more Zen. Those weren’t her exact words. It was closer to, “Mabel needs t
o learn how to channel her anger into more appropriate activities. Journaling or painting, for example.” I resisted rolling my eyes until we got home, and we never went back. Not only could we not find a time that worked with my schedule, I decided to implement my own form of calm.
When Mabel starts getting agitated or angry about May’s abandonment, I let her take some swings on the punching bags at the gym where I work while we talk it out. It seems to work. She gets out some negativity and hyper-kid energy, then moves on with her day. But apparently, she’s been listening to me a little too carefully if it’s bleeding over into her dreams.
“Maybe cut back on the kickboxing dreams there, killer. You socked me right in the honker.”
Mabel giggles and reaches up to grab my nose. Squeezing it twice, she makes a honking sound each time. Then her arm flops back down on her blue polka dot bedspread and she tries to snuggle back in bed.
I don’t blame her. Mornings have been brutal since May left to go live with her agent boyfriend in New York; he was going to help her become a successful model. Never mind that she was already thirty and had zero experience. “The modeling world is changing, Abel,” she’d told me. “Doors are opening as we speak, and I’m going to walk right through them.”
As far as I know, the only door she’d walked through was the front door of our small, three-bedroom townhome on her way to the airport. That was close to six months ago and, with the exception of being served divorce papers, we’ve only heard from her sparingly. Mostly through online chats that are centered around her life, and very little about her child’s.
It was a rough transition at first. Mabel didn’t understand how her mother could just up and leave, coupled with a lot of justified anger about it. I couldn’t understand how I’d missed all the signs it was coming, coupled with my justified anger.
Code of Honor Page 28