Stormy Love
Page 5
After four years, I have three yoga and meditation studios around the St. Louis area. I’ve taken on plenty of staff to help out. There are the classes we still offer in afterschool programs at various community centers.
I try to spend time teaching at all of the studios at some point each week. But I don’t want to compromise having quality time with Sean and the children – those at Rosewood, and our own children also.
By the time I arrive at our home, Sean is already here with the kids, playing in the pool. I hear their voices outside and picture my husband with his dark perfect body moving through the water, muscles rippling as he splashes about.
I decide to head into the bedroom and change before following the sound of their voices into the backyard.
With inflatables on his forearms, Leo is just big enough to play in the wading end of the swimming pool, while Sean watches over the fun.
My mother has our one-year old Cynthia beside her in the stroller.
Leo tosses a spongy ball to his father.
“Your turn!” Leo waits excitedly for his father to return the throw.
“Mommy, Mommy!” Leo makes a racket loud enough that his grandmother has to remind him that his sister is sleeping.
“Who wants pizza for dinner?” I ask.
It’s Friday night, and Leo looks forward to this every week. His cheers go up, and my mom pushes the stroller towards the sliding glass doors into the kitchen.
“I know who wants pepperoni and cheese.” My mother smiles her grandmotherly smile, and her grandson runs after her into the house.
“Wrap yourselves in a towel first,” Sean commands, and Leo remembers the routine he’s supposed to follow before sloshing a trail of water across the kitchen floor.
“Well, Mr. Brighten,” It looks like we’re all alone,” I say once everyone’s inside. There’s a high hedge around our property, set on acreage at a distance from other homes. I step to the edge of the deeper end of the pool and sit down, feet dangling in the water, then open my robe.
Sean steps through the wading pool then swims in smooth, sure strokes and comes up for breath like a wild beast, swirling his head to splash the water from his body. Water droplets hit my bare skin, causing my nipples to tighten. When Sean sees me, he lets out a small gasp of delight. “My love,” he sighs, his eyes taking on that drunken-with-pleasure look that overcomes him when he sees my body. Especially my pregnant body – how tender and passionate he becomes when we have time together.
Water is dripping off his eyelashes, reminding me of that afternoon so many years ago in the parking lot outside the club in East St. Louis. I lift the end of my bathrobe tie and reach out to dab his eyes dry. “Here, let me just – ”
Sean takes my hand and in one motion swiftly yet ever so gently, manages to disrobe me and slide me into the water close beside him. “My love,” he says, cradling my body close to him protectively. “We made it through that storm, my love. Remember the stormy beginning of our love?”
He kisses me, and I remember – I remember everything – the storms and the floods and the misunderstandings. But mostly I remember all the happiness we’ve had together since that stormy beginning. “Kiss me again,” I say. “And never stop.”
Sean’s dark eyes gaze deep into my soul. And he rains down kisses on me forever.
Thank You
Dear Reader,
Thank you for choosing to read my very first book – I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! It has been a long journey to get here, and I’m so happy the day has come when I can share stories of love and passion with you!
Special thanks go out to Ella Barnard for her guidance and encouragement throughout the process of writing this book. Ella, you are the Boss! Your knowledge and fun perspective have kept me going, and I know you inspire many others with your generous spirit.
If you enjoyed reading my book, please go ahead and leave a review. Nothing elaborate is necessary – just a quick line about what you liked will go a long way in helping a budding writer.
Let me know what you enjoy in a good sweet and steamy romance – come join my Facebook group. There will be giveaways, contests, and excerpts from upcoming books – I can’t wait to see you there!
Interested in more of my stories? Keep reading for the first chapter of the next book in the Rosewood Romances Series, Blossoming Love.
Love and hugs,
Amelia
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Also by Amelia Star
The Rosewood Series
Stormy Love
Blossoming Love
Summertime Love
Don’t miss out on Serena and Mark’s story in Blossoming Love!
Turn the page for the first chapter.
Excerpt from Blossoming Love
ONE – MARK
“Just try it. My herbal tea with rose petals will open your heart to all the possibilities that are out there. You’ve been single long enough, Son. You’ve got to open your heart.” My mother’s thin, dark hands push the cup of herbal tea toward me.
I look into her deep brown eyes and shake my head. “You can’t be serious, Mom. Not another herbal tea.” I stand and pick up my keys off her lace-covered table. “How many times have I told you that I don’t go for that nonsense.”
“Mark Franklin Forester.” My mother crosses her arms and leans back in her high-backed chair.
When she takes that tone with me, I know there’s no arguing. I don’t want to have to deal with the drama anyway. It’s just not worth it. “Okay. If it will make you happy, I’ll drink the tea.”
I pick up the dainty cup and finish off the tea in a few gulps. “There. Are you happy now?” I smile and step back, getting ready to head out.
“That’s what I like to see. You just need to open your heart to the possibilities, and flash that smile at the ladies. Against your chocolate brown skin, mmm, mmm, mmm. They won’t be able to resist. Then you’ll be able to bring me those grandchildren I’ve been waiting so long for.”
“Okay, Mom. That’s going to do it for today. The herbs you asked for are on your patio. If you want me to help you plant them in your garden, I’ll come by after the nursery closes. We’ve got a shipment of saplings coming in today. I’ll need to get them unloaded and transplant some of the tomatoes.” I put my jacket on. It’s still rather brisk outside this early in the morning in late April.
“Oh, you’ve got time before the nursery opens. Sit down here while I fix you some breakfast now.” My mother picks up my empty cup and saucer, carrying it to the kitchen.
“No, really. I need to go for a walk. You know, on the trail across the river.” I’m almost to the door.
“Of course.” Shaking her head, she springs up quicker and with more alacrity than most sixty-eight-year-old ladies would be capable of. “Off to the silence you crave when you need to get away from it all.”
She smiles that pearly white smile I inherited, and I notice how her hair is so very gray and fine. My hair is already getting some of those grays that show up so easily in my thick, black curls. For a moment, just a twinge of guilt that I haven’t been able to give my mom what she so longs for hits me.
But fate is fate. If I’m destined to meet the right woman, she will appear when the time is right. And no herbal tea concoction is going to be what makes that happen.
After the usual hugs and reassurances that I’ll be back to help her plant the basil and oregano, I make my escape.
The drive from St.
Louis, Missouri, to the Jefferson Barracks Bridge is uneventful. I notice how full the Mississippi River still is after its annual spring flooding. Taking a series of winding roads, I make it to the levee. From there, I find the path I have been walking for years. This is where I come when I need some peace.
Rarely are there others on this trail. It’s just me and the occasional startling beauty of a redbud in flower among the sweetgum and ash trees.
It’s great to be away from the drama of my meddling mother. I know her intentions are good, but this is where I’ve always longed to be – among the peaceful beauty of nature.
Then, out of nowhere comes a puppy – a golden retriever, frolicking and trailing a leash behind her.
The puppy approaches me happily, and I pet her. “Where’s your owner?” I ask, grabbing the leash and stopping her from running any farther.
“Hey, calm down!” I laugh, and she leaps up, hoping to be petted more.
Checking the tags, I see the puppy’s name is Daffodil. The phone number and city of her owner are also on the tags.
I’m about to take out my cell phone and make a call when I hear someone running down the path.
From around the bend, out from behind the delicate deep pink flowers of a redbud, appears a woman. Not just any woman. A beautiful woman, wearing form-fitting jeans and a yellow t-shirt. She has brown skin almost as dark as mine. Her hair is a luxuriant mass of fine coils around her face. Everything about her is luscious and enticing.
“Daffodil!” the woman exclaims in obvious exasperation. The puppy runs back to her owner. Ruffling the puppy’s ears, gasping with relief, she exclaims, “Where do you get all your energy?”
But I’m wondering who has more energy – this cute little dancing puppy, or the woman who’s playing feistily with her.
“I think someone’s looking for you,” I say. I want to add – it’s not the puppy I’m talking about. It’s me, and I’ve been looking for you all my life.
Not wanting to come on too strong, I let the woman assume I’m talking about Daffodil.
“Thank you so much for catching her,” she answers then holds out her hand.
At first, I think she wants to shake my hand, but then I realize she is waiting for me to hand Daffodil’s leash to her. “Oh, yeah. Your puppy. I guess you want her back.”
We laugh a little. But when our hands brush as I pass the leash to her, a rush of electricity startles me unlike anything I have experienced before.
She is the one for me, and I need to find a way to make her mine forever.
“My name is Mark,” I start. And I’m chuckling to myself, thinking my mom would have a heyday if she knew what I was feeling now – my heart seems to have opened completely. But it’s not because of any tea. It’s entirely due to this beautiful and fascinating woman.
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About the Author
I enjoy writing about how women find passion and love in their lives. It's especially fun to write about women who are looking for their dreams - whether it's career, family, or love!
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