by Amelia Star
“Open it, Serena,” Mark insists.
I take the half-heart and, before I open it, notice that on the outside is engraved–Forever together. On the inside, Mark has inserted a tiny picture of us that we took after planting the garden.
He steps toward me and holds out his hand. “Let me show you how they go together.”
I understand he’s asking for the two half-lockets. I hand them to him, and he removes the dirt-dusted locket from its chain. Then he adds the first half-locket to the chain with the second, and holds them up.
“See–they make a whole, my love. Like us. You and me, we’re perfect together, just the two of us.”
Daffodil barks wildly, and we laugh.
“Well, maybe the three of us,” Mark admits.
Turning me around then, he places the gold chain around my neck, and I take hold of the two heart halves together. Mark smiles down at me. “May our love grow.” He echoes the engraved words. “We’ll be together forever.”
When he kisses me, I feel my heart blossoming, growing happier than ever. I am in love with Mark. And I know now that our love will last, no matter what happens.
EPILOGUE – MARK – One Year Later
It’s a perfect spring day. The woods are alive with flowering trees just as they were the day I met Serena a year ago. In addition to the flowering trees, garlands of red roses have been draped from the branches on the spot where Serena and I first set eyes on each other. I even brought potted, bright yellow daffodils to line the path.
Fortunately, this path through the woods is wide enough for all of us to congregate. There aren’t many people–just our friends from Rosewood, a few other acquaintances, and of course our mothers, who became quick conspirators in making sure Serena and I stayed together.
It didn’t take much conspiring, though. And now we’re here, at the day when I will make the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met my wife.
The minister stands at the top of the V-formation our group makes. Daffodil, who has grown into an adult by now, sits at attention with anticipation beside Ted, Rosewood’s chef.
The minister nods, and a young girl starts playing a sweet flute tune.
Sean and Sarah’s son comes around the curve in the path with a little pillow holding our rings. Then follows their toddler daughter, who Sarah walks with, helping her distribute the red rose petals.
Then my beauty comes around the bend in the path, escorted by Sean. She is radiant in her white silk gown. She is absolutely glowing, carrying her bouquet of roses and daffodils. How could I be so lucky? Forever, I will be grateful for meeting my true love on this fateful day a year ago.
When she arrives by my side, I listen to the minister’s words with joy and so much love in my heart. When we pronounce our vows, I gaze into Serena’s dark eyes and feel my life’s dream is finally coming true. When the minister says I can kiss the bride, that is the moment my heart opens completely and I take my love in my arms and press my lips to hers. Perfection. Eternal happiness will be ours.
But someone wants to join us, and here comes Daffodil, squeezing her way between us and barking for attention.
“Hey, girl!” I say, and kneel down to pet her. She’s too big to pick up by now. “Of course, we remember–you’re the one who brought us together right here!”
Everyone cheers for Daffodil, and she barks and goes from person to person, hoping to be congratulated.
Back at Serena’s house, we host a small garden party with cake and champagne.
“It’s going to be a little sad leaving this place,” Serena admits to Sarah as we stand together in the sun. “But I think your friend, Alicia, will like it here.”
“Yes,” Sarah agrees. “She will probably paint some flowery murals on the walls inside. But she will also take care of your garden.”
Sarah steps away to introduce Alicia to some of our other guests, and I lean close to my new bride. “Don’t you want some champagne, sweetheart?”
“Oh, Mark.” Serena’s wearing false eyelashes today, and when she looks down, they flutter against her cheeks so delicately. “We need to talk about that. Come, let’s sit down on the patio.”
We take a seat close to each other in the wicker chairs and look around the beautiful garden. We’ve made a lot of changes over the last year, with the red rose trellis from the nursery that I surprised Serena with last fall as the centerpiece. Now it’s as much a wonderland as my place in St. Louis.
My heart is racing a bit with anticipation. I have a feeling about what Serena is going to tell me. If she’s not drinking the champagne on our wedding day…. Can it be true?
“Mark, you aren’t going to believe this.” Serena’s whole being is glowing, and I think I will be able to believe what she says next. “I’m pregnant! I never thought it could happen but it’s true.”
I stand and lift the love of my life into my arms. “That is the most wonderful news! Are you happy?” I want to make sure she’s not worried, after what she went through with her ex-husband.
“I’m ecstatic!” she exclaims. “Mark, you’re going to be a father!”
“Wait until our mothers find out.” I chuckle. “It will be the best wedding present we could give them!”
“Well, go ahead and announce it! Let’s celebrate!”
I stand up and wrap one arm around Serena’s waist, and hold my glass of champagne overhead in the other. Raising my voice over the murmur of our small party, I request, “Can I have everyone’s attention?”
Expectant faces turn to us.
“My wife and I have great news to share! We’re going to have a baby!”
Cheers go up. Daffodil barks, and more champagne is poured.
I embrace my love gently, handling her carefully. “You are everything I ever wanted, Serena. Kiss me, my wife.”
We kiss under the bright spring sun, and I taste the miracle of love.
Summertime Love
A Sweet and Steamy Short Story Romance
Rosewood Romances Book 3
by Amelia Star
ONE–TED
“I say we go ahead and order.” Picking up my menu, I glance through what this restaurant has to offer.
“There’s probably a logical reason Kristi couldn’t come.” Sean attempts to console me.
His wife, Sarah, adds, “I’ll call her tomorrow and see what happened.”
“It’s okay,” I reply. And really, it is. I’m not so upset about getting stood up for this blind double-date. I’m too busy watching the woman who keeps coming in and out of the kitchen, bustling about the restaurant from one table to the next, checking on everything that’s going on. She could be a manager, or even the owner of the place. But whatever her job is here, I’m interested in her for other reasons.
So I decide, before I leave here tonight, I’ll talk to this woman. In an elegant black dress and four-inch heels, her curvy body moves quickly and gracefully about the dining area. She’s older than most of the waitresses–maybe in her late thirties–and that’s another thing that makes her stand out. If there’s something I love it’s a confident woman who carries her curves well.
With black hair and alabaster skin, she creates a striking presence. And her large chestnut eyes–she seems to take in everything immediately with those eyes.
She turns and notices I’m looking at her.
I want to rush over, take her in my arms, and kiss her all over, then ask her to have a seat while I serve her something. A beauty like her deserves to have a little treat for once.
My mystery woman raises a hand to indicate that she’ll be with us in a moment, and I nod.
Sean and Sarah are still chatting over the menu.
I sip my wine and close my menu. I’ve already decided what I want. Now I just have to find a way to get it.
My life so far has mostly been a hard-luck tale. My mom did everything she could to keep me out of trouble as I grew up across the Mississippi on the East side of town. All I had was a library card for entertainme
nt, and my favorite books were all about cooking.
I always dreamed of traveling the world, becoming a chef in the greatest restaurants.
But now at thirty, I’m still flipping burgers. I rarely get to go out on the town in the fashionable area of the Loop in St. Louis. Nevertheless, nothing’s going to stop me from having a good meal and some fun with my friends.
Since neither Sean nor Sarah can decide what they want, I convince them to try the Spicy Coconut Grilled Chicken Legs. My friends are willing to go along with what I suggest since I am an aspiring chef.
At that moment, my mystery woman approaches our table and smiles. “Hi, I’m Hailey, the owner of the restaurant. I noticed you seemed to be looking for something a moment ago?”
Sarah and Sean look at me questioningly.
“Yes,” I say. “I was just noticing how busy the place is tonight. This is my first time here. But from the looks of the crowd, I’m thinking the food must be pretty darn good–and I imagine I’ll be coming back.”
Hailey smiles and, keeping busy as always, reaches over to pour more wine for me. “We do a pretty good business.” She sets my glass down and asks, “What do you think of the cabernet sauvignon, sir?”
I lean back and observe, “It’s as wonderful as the atmosphere here.”
As she moves around the table filling each of our wine glasses, I catch a whiff of Hailey’s expensive-smelling, musky perfume, making me forget momentarily about wine and food.
“Glad you are enjoying it.” When she comes to the empty place-setting she asks, “Will someone else be joining you?”
Sarah says no, but I interrupt.
“How about a toast to Delicious for You? I know you are busy, but do you have a moment to join us for a drink?” I take the empty glass from the fourth place-setting and hold it up.
Hailey looks around. “Well, it looks like there’s a momentary lull. That sounds lovely.” And she comes around to sit across from me. I look over her delicious curves and think–that’s what I’d like to be having for dinner.
Hailey catches my eye again, and her pale skin flushes. She lifts her glass to me, and I pour a little wine into it until she holds up her hand to indicate that’s all she can have for now. “I’ll need to get back on duty shortly.”
We introduce ourselves, and Hailey has a waitress come over and take our order.
We chat a bit more. And when Hailey hears about how my friends and I met at the Rosewood Community Center, she has more questions about what each of us do there.
And I don’t hesitate to let this beautiful woman know I’m the chef at Rosewood–that my passion, like hers, is for food.
“So, Ted,” she smiles, cupping her glass in her fingers and twirling it in a practiced manner. “What is your favorite thing to cook?”
I lean in close over the table. “Well, actually, there’s a little story behind that. You see.” At this point, I say, “Excuse me for a moment while I roll up my sleeve.”
Hailey takes another small sip of her wine and eyes me over the brim. “No worries,” she says. “I don’t think anyone minds.”
Sean leans back in his chair. “I think I’ve heard this story before. It’s about how you got your scar, right?”
Hailey’s eyes open wide. I’m thinking she must be pretty impressed with either my muscles or the old wound–but it’s more like she just saw a ghost or something, the way she looks startled. “Everything okay?” I ask.
“Oh, it’s nothing.” Hailey looks around the restaurant, gauging how things are going, then pours another small glass of wine for herself. “If you’re going to tell a story, I might as well enjoy it.”
She pours more wine for everyone else also.
“By all means,” I say. Then I tell the story of how, when I was seven, my mama was making her world’s greatest Stove-Top Peach Cobbler Cake.
“She had the peaches and all her special spices plus just the right amount of butter heating on the stove. I tried to reach up and help her out by taking the spoon out of the pan and getting a taste, just to make sure things were coming along okay. But when I reached up to grab the spoon, I tipped the pot over, and the boiling-hot peaches spilled on my upper arm.”
“Well,” Hailey breathes in sharply. “Isn’t that something.” She shakes her head. “So ever since then, you had to have that special Peach Cobbler Cake to soothe the pain of your childhood wound?”
“Exactly.”
“And you had to learn to make it yourself eventually?”
“Well, time passes. And I like to give my mama a break every once in a while.” I take a sip of my wine. “Every woman deserves a little pampering now and then.”
Hailey tilts her head and sighs. “Well, this has been nice. Thanks so much, everyone.”
“But we never had that toast,” Sarah points out.
So we raise our glasses, and I say, “To Delicious for You. May its dining room always be full of happy customers, its kitchen overflowing with creative chefs, and its owner given the pampering breaks she deserves.”
Sighing a little wistfully, Hailey lifts her glass to ours, and we all drink.
Then the server comes with our tray of food.
Hailey stands and says she’ll stop by again before we leave to find out how everything went, then bustles back into the kitchen.
Sarah, Sean, and I thoroughly enjoy our meal. Then, just as we’re about to order dessert, I look up and see Hailey striding toward our table.
“Ted, you say you’re an aspiring chef, right?”
I have a feeling she’s about to ask me to do something I won’t be able to resist.
“Yes, I certainly am.” I look up at her, wondering what’s coming next.
“Well, now’s your chance to show me your stuff. My head chef just had to take his daughter to the hospital. If you’re up to it, you can follow me now, and I’ll get you an apron so you can get started.”
I put my napkin on the table and stand up. “I’m right behind you, Hailey. And there’s one thing you can bet on, I won’t let you down.”
TWO–HAILEY
I feel Ted’s dark brown eyes on me as I lead him back to the kitchen. As soon as he stood up to follow me and I saw how tall and muscular his body is, I felt my heart stop just a moment. There’s a magnetism drawing me to reach out and touch his smooth, dark skin. But I’ve got to remain business-like.
If he can work as fast as he talks, that’s what matters. The way he got me to take that break and sit down with him and his friends–that’s not something I do every day.
Something tells me he’s interested in more than cooking. And for some reason, despite the difference in years between us, that intrigues me.
I can’t help but think how flattering it is to have such a powerfully-built and virile man offering me his attentions. The question is, why would he be pursuing me? I guess some guys just go for older women. But this is the first younger man who’s seemed to go for me.
In fact, it’s the first man who’s shown interest in me since, well, since a long time. I’m way too busy running my restaurant to have much of a life of my own.
After showing him around the stations and introducing him to everyone, we stop at the station beside Sam, who has taken over for the head chef who left.
“This is where you’ll be tonight, Ted–I’m afraid for now all you’ll be able to do is prep-work. We’ll see how it goes, though, and maybe later I’ll send you home with one of our menus and other materials to learn.”
“Oh, Hailey, you can bet you’ll be sending me home with everything I’ll need to start working here.” He nods and starts opening drawers, locating all he’ll need to get going.
“Well, first of all, you can call me Hails like everyone else. Next, you need to know that years in the restaurant business have taught me cocky doesn’t always equal good. And believe me, I have the years to learn that lesson.” It seems I should point this out, and rein in his sly looks at me early on.
But how does Ted r
eply? He gives me a once-over–an actual once-over–and answers, “You look awfully youthful and fresh as a just-picked peach to me.”
My eyes go a bit wide. This guy is thirty, maybe. Well, my thirty-eight years have taught me how to keep my employees in line.
“You look awfully ready to chop vegetables. So get to work. Those vegetables aren’t going to chop themselves.” Then I turn on my four-inch heels and wiggle my ass extra smooth as I walk away toward the swinging doors to the lobby.
It’s been a long time since anyone sassed me. I’ve been the boss, and here’s this hot young man giving me grief and flirting with me in my own restaurant.
And I love it.
I check on how things are going with the hostess, then the next few hours are the usual flurry of continuous activity. But every time I head into the kitchen and feel Ted’s eyes on me, I look over and see the mounds of fruits and veggies he’s chopped–all while smiling and whistling or humming in counterpoint to the piped-in jazz.
We bust our balls for the next few hours, until the eleven-thirty lull arrives. Then it’s time for everyone to take a collective deep breath and relax a moment.
I head back to check on how our potentially new chef did.
Sam is giving him a high-five. “Great work, man,” he says, taking the cloth he keeps on the belt around his wide girth to wipe the sweat off his ruddy brow. “What luck you were out there, and good ol’ Hails found you.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I join in. “It was pure fate that this guy was here, Sam.”
“Luck, fate–you say tomato, I say tomawto.” Sam smiles, leaning back against the counter piled high with vegetable peelings and used colanders. “I’m just glad you’re here, kid.”
“Yeah, me too.” Ted glances over at me, waiting for some kind of confirmation from me.
I eye him carefully. “So, you think you’re up to staying? As you can see, we don’t laze around here. When we’re on, we’re on. And we’re on a lot.”
