“Poppy! Are you ok?” Sam asks.
“What the hell are you two doing in here?”
I move my arm from off my forehead and try to ignore his strong stance hovering over me with his hands on his hips. Instead, I’m reminded how wonderfully gorgeous he is. I study the definition of his muscles straining through the arms and chest of his uniform. He’s in shape, which I didn’t notice the last time I ran into him. I’m suddenly fantasizing about what he could do to me on that cart of his when a laugh escapes my mouth. That’s not the sexiest thought in the world. But everything about this janitor screams sexy.
“She’s hurt.”
The janitor man comes closer and as he does, I read the patch on his uniform, ‘Lincoln’. “Where?”
“Her leg. It has a piece of glass in it.”
He moves down my body and shines his phone flashlight on my leg.
“You’re hot.” Sam says to him. “And I don’t mean for a janitor, I just mean in general. But definitely the hottest janitor I’ve ever seen. And also, the youngest. What are you, like thirty?”
“Sam!”
He ignores both of us before saying, “You need stitches. And this is going to hurt.”
“What’s going to…. owwww!”
My eyes move down as Lincoln removes a three-inch piece of glass from my knee. Half of it is covered in blood. I force my eyes away and take a few deep breaths focusing again on trying not to throw up. He pulls a rag from his belt loop. As he wipes the blood away, infatuation courses through my body. His hands are rough, but his touch is gentle. And his eyes. They’re forcing their way into my heart screaming for me to see him. And I do. I see him...
My skin buzzes as he continues to wipe away blood. His jaw clenches as his eyes flick to mine. “You okay?” I quickly nod my head and he continues. He tears off a long strip from the rag and ties it around the top of my knee. His muscles strain one last time as he forces a final knot. The way he does it makes me presume he’s done it millions of time. “What are you guys doing in here?”
I still don’t think I can talk. I’m trying to adjust to the pain I’m in. Or maybe I’m trying to adjust to Lincoln’s proximity.
“My asshole professor thought he could dump me for one of my friends and I wouldn’t care so I showed him he was wrong.”
Dear Lord, I wish this child would learn how to use a freaking filter. “Sam!”
Lincoln grimaces before asking, “You’re sleeping with Professor Karff?”
“Was!”
“Hey Lincoln.” All three of us freeze and Lincoln puts his hand out to tell us to stay put. “Lincoln!” Someone yells again.
Lincoln rises off his knee. His warm, calloused hand cups my chin and I silently pray he never lets go. He leans down and whispers into my ear. “Promise me you’ll go to the hospital once I get you out of here?”
His breath on my neck causes goosebumps and I no longer feel nauseous. The warmth that takes place in my stomach confirms there is indeed a hell as the thoughts that cross my mind are taboo. He pulls back to stare into my eyes and I gently nod.
He then moves toward the door. “Stay here.” He whispers. “And hide behind the desk. Better than when you were hiding from me.”
Sam and I both move behind the desk and I maneuver my leg so it’s out in front of me but also hidden from the doorway. In doing so I whimper in pain. Sam covers my mouth with her hand while we try to listen.
“Lincoln…. oh, hey there. I was calling for you.”
“I’m here. What can I do for you Officer Patton?”
“A professor downstairs is grading exams and thought he heard a commotion up here. Like glass breaking.”
“Yeah, sorry that was me.”
“What the hell Lincoln?” We hear the voice getting closer and I peak around the desk to see a short, stocky man studying the broken window next to Professor Karff’s door.
“Sorry about that.”
“Why the hell did you do that?”
“I um…. I thought I saw a mouse running around in there. But, I don’t have keys to individual offices. I figured better take care of it before it infested the whole building.”
The officer rapidly blinks staring at Lincoln like he’s crazy. He then turns back to the office and walks in further.
“Hey man, I’m going to clean this up.” Lincoln comes up behind him and tries to look anywhere but at us.
“Yeah, you are. And sorry but I have to write up a formal report since it went through dispatch.”
Lincoln nods and places his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I get it.”
The officer looks down. “Damn! You used your hand?”
Lincoln glances over to what he’s looking at. His eyes are following my blood all over the floor. Lincoln rips his hand out of his pocket and I watch in awe as he yanks the rag he was using on me and immediately wraps it around his hand before the officer turns back around.
“Yeah, like I said, I was trying to catch it quickly. Wasn’t thinking.”
“Now I’m definitely going to have to write it up. Workman’s comp and all.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“It’s my job, so yeah it is. Let’s go. I’ve got to go get my form to fill out. It’s in my squad car in the circle drive.”
“Um, yeah ok. Let me go run this under water while you’re doing that, and I’ll meet you in the lounge downstairs.”
“Yeah, alright.”
Lincoln stands in the doorway for a few moments and then turns back to us.
“He’s gone.”
We both stand up and I wince from the position I was in. Lincoln’s eyes search around the room. They finally stop and he rushes behind me. He picks up a glass vase full of marbles. He then takes them and dumps those into the trash can and brings the vase to me.
“Here!” He shoves it into my arms.
“What’s this for?”
I stare dumbfounded as he removes the towel from his hand. He then makes a fist and lays it on the desk in front of me. “You need to hit that over my hand.”
“No!”
“Got to. My story won’t check out without a busted hand.”
“There’s got to be another way.” I squeeze the vase to my center trying to come up with something quickly. I look down at my leg and scrutinize the blood still seeping out. “Give me that towel. I’ll wipe more blood on it and you can wrap it back around your hand. That’s enough to convince him.”
He shakes his head. “Not good enough. If it’s workman’s comp, I’ll have to be examined by a doctor the university sends me to. I’ll need an actual injury. Now do it.”
“No! I won't cut your hand on purpose.”
Sam tries to grab the vase out of my hands. “Oh, for crying out loud Pop, give it. I’ll do it.” I yank it back and suddenly we’re playing tug of war. “He’s trying to cover for us so let him.”
“He’s trying to cover for you! I was trying to help get you out of this mess.”
“Pretty sure you were under that desk hiding with me.”
“I didn’t do any of this! And you know better Sam. This is what your father and I were talking about before we came here.”
“Stop! I don’t have time for this crap.” Lincoln yanks on the vase and it slips out of my hands. He pushes it at Sam. “Here! If she can’t do it, you do it.”
“Sam, don’t!”
“I’m sorry Aunt Pop, but he’s right. It’s the only way.”
I watch as she raises the vase and Lincoln steels his body. As she comes down with it, I turn, not able to watch. I then hear glass shattering and Lincoln grunting.
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Acknowledgments
My thanks must start with God for the gifts He’s given me, the people He has put in my life to support me and a life that has allowed me to pursue my dreams. I pray that every reader is blessed with a memorable experience when reading this book.
There are several people I need to thank for getting this book into the hands of readers. To my mom, for agreeing to sit down and read one of my earliest versions that needed a lot of work. But you suffered through it and told me to keep going. Thank you. To my mother-in-law for being one of my very first beta readers and for supporting me and encouraging me along the way. You never let me quit and gave me the confidence I needed to seriously pursue my dream. To my dad, for supporting me on the business side of this journey. To my best friend Emily. Thank you for being by my side since second-grade and for a lot of the inspiration in the scenes with Jen and Oliva. And for taking the time to read it and support me.
To my husband, we made it! And I say we because I couldn’t have done this with you. All the moments we spent at writing conferences together and the long drives home with me analyzing every little detail of what my next move would be. For supporting me financially and emotionally and being my biggest cheerleader. For taking care of our son when I was holed up in my office. And for never letting me quit! To my son, you’re too young for me to thank you for much except for just being you. You’ve taught me more than you’ll ever know.
To my dog and writing partner Dori. I miss you on my lap snuggled keeping me warm as I type. I miss you forcing me to get up, stretch my legs and mind so that we could go outside for fresh air. I miss you glancing up at me as I read dialogue out loud and wondering if I was talking to you. Thank you for being one of my greatest gifts. You were a part of this journey for every step of this book except the publishing and I miss your companionship.
To the owners and staff at the local McAlisters, Panera, Pronto Café, and Starbucks, as well as the Rolling Hills Saint Joseph Library: thank you for giving me an office away from home. Thank you for giving me a space where I could seriously pursue my dreams. And thank you for providing the sustenance and resources I needed to keep going. So many of you asked about my work and complimented me during moments when I needed it the most.
To Lauren Watson Perry, your work is amazing. Thank you for tolerating an anxious debut author who didn’t know what she was doing. But I knew enough to hire you and you didn’t disappoint.
To Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creative. Thank you for walking me through the steps of what a cover needs and providing me with guidance every step of the way.
To Ines Johnson who helped me with so many different aspects of getting this book into reader’s hands. Thank you for your sense of humor, your professionalism, patience and wisdom.
To my readers. I write for you. Well, that’s not entirely true. I write for me because I have to. I have things in my head and my heart that demand to be heard. But I toil over the words, the details, the characters so that you can experience an escape from the everyday stressors of your life and jump into another world. A world with people you become invested in and hopefully an experience that stays with you long after turning the last page. Thank you for taking a chance on a new author and for your support. I pray I didn’t disappoint!
About the Author
Brooke is a recovering anxiety-laden mom who overcame severe depression when she took her husband’s advice and decided to write a book. She found a way to escape her own anxiety and depression by creating characters who were going through more than she was and found a way to give them their happily ever after’s. A romantic at heart, Brooke also loves to dive into other character worlds by reading two to three novels a week. Brooke graduated from Northwest Missouri State University with a degree in Business Management and a master’s degree from the University of Missouri in higher education administration. She values her faith, loves iced coffees and loves dogs typically more than people. Her favorite season is fall and she lives for college football. She resides in Saint Joseph, MO with her husband, her son and her 4-lb dog Dori.
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