by Brea Viragh
“Let the police handle it. No, don’t look.” Isaac kept my gaze focused ahead, his hand on the side of my face. “I don’t think Trent will give us any more trouble.”
“Just make sure he doesn’t get up again.”
“That’s one promise I can make and keep.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Mrs. Blevins, these cookies really are sugar-free. I swear it.”
“I won’t hear of it!” the woman insisted, her hair the bright pink blush of freshly spun cotton candy. “I’m old enough to know real sugar when I taste it. And these,” she tapped a gnarled finger against the glass case, “are nothing but sugar. I’ll take twelve.”
“Are you sure?” I asked a little hesitantly.
“Positive!”
Only fools are positive. The echo of my mother’s words flitted through my mind, but I kept a smile on my face.
Mrs. Blevins spared me a wink as I boxed up her order of cookies. Money exchanged hands and I sent her on her way. Another satisfied customer.
She wasn’t the only one.
I adjusted the set of my ponytail before swirling around toward the swinging doors. “Leda,” I called out. “I want to get started on the cheesecake pops for the Bryants’ wedding anniversary.”
Her head popped over the division. “No way,” she said, completely unmoved. “You have places to be and people to see. You take off early. I got this.”
“I’m not leaving you alone. We have orders to fill.”
“Oh, I already called in reinforcements.”
I gasped, pretending to be horrified. “Without my permission?”
With a determined set to her shoulders, Leda moved closer and led me around the other side of the countertop. Her gaze shimmered with warmth, enough to make me appreciate her presence. She was here for me, to look out when I needed the extra eyes. To keep me on track. “Am I going to have to have the talk with you again?”
“You might.”
“Essie...” She put her hands on my hips to undo the apron ties. “Get out of here. Right now, before I get angry.”
I snorted. “You wouldn’t do anything.”
“Do you want to find out? I’m not above swinging you over my shoulder and using sheer force. You see these puppies?” She shoved her shirtsleeves up over her biceps and flexed. “They are made to enforce my laws. And my laws say there is a handsome man waiting for you at home. Now scat.”
It didn’t take much more to persuade me. I threw an arm around her, drawing her in for a hug before racing out the back door.
Yes, there was a handsome man waiting for me. One who would, hopefully, be waiting for me every night when I got home from work. He’d been there yesterday. To hold me when my dreams kept me awake, and warm up chicken soup when I didn’t feel like eating.
A little later, I watched Isaac step out of the pickup truck, his boots crunching along the driveway. The weight of these past days wore on him, and in each stride I noted the exhaustion. The bone-weary manner in which he carried himself. Still sexy, though.
The moment our eyes locked, he smiled. I watched the corners of his mouth crinkle until dimples appeared on his cheeks. The edges were a bit frayed, and deep lines spanned from his eyes, lines that weren’t there days earlier. But it was a smile nonetheless. And all for me.
“You’re late,” I called out with no small amount of pleasure.
“I’m sorry, sugar. I had business to take care of. I got here as soon as I could.” He made a sound deep in his throat, his eyes traveling the length of my body and back to my face. Sunlight flickered along the lines of his skin, turning each gilded strand of hair to the purest gold, sure to make even King Midas covetous. Those locks he’d once worn down to his shoulders were now stylishly cut above the ears to lie light as feathers against his tanned skin. He was the young boy I’d crushed on in high school. And he was the man determined to save my life.
Just looking at him had my mouth going dry and my hands itching to touch.
“Had to make sure the police had everything covered.”
“You went to the station?” I asked.
“It was a pleasure, actually, to listen to Trent confess everything. He ain’t getting out of his jail cell for a while.”
We’d used the rope and tape to bind Trent before hauling him into town and presenting him at the police station. Isaac was right. It was a pleasure to see the shocked looks on the officers’ faces when we told them what had happened. Told them what had been done to us. We showed them the physical evidence written on our skin and the bruises from Trent’s fingerprints that would darken my neck for days to come.
He was the drug kingpin they’d been looking for. The supplier they could never quite catch. This time, Daddy wasn’t going to be able to protect him.
“You’ll excuse me if I still find this absolutely insane.” I leaned against a front porch pillar and stared down at him. “If I hadn’t actually heard him say all those horrible things—” I shook my head. “I’m going to need a lifetime to recover.”
Isaac paced forward, absently rubbing his jaw where the purple blotch had yet to fade. “We’re going to make it through.”
“How can you be so cool about this?” I wanted to know. My body was already reacting to the sight of him, tingles beginning low. Long after the police came to their senses and Trent was led away in handcuffs, long after my mother, come to pick me up, had forced me into the passenger seat of her car with Isaac in the backseat, the two of us now stood.
Long after the paperwork was filed and the charges pressed, we were still standing.
The late-afternoon air held an even stronger hint of the coming autumn, but the sun still warmed, the earth still turned. And Isaac had come back to me, back to us, and all the uncertainty and negativity was in the rearview mirror.
“Because I know that at home I have a woman willing to kick ass for me. Old Bill the bat has nothing on the tree branch you were swinging. You were stronger than Trent and stronger than I’ve ever seen you.”
“I’ve never been so scared in all my life. Nothing has ever gotten to me like that. Not even...” I trailed off, and we both knew what I didn’t say.
The night I’d made a mistake. The night Isaac had to rescue me. Funny how the tables turned, and when the time came for me to step up, I had rescued him.
I knew enough now to know I could trust Isaac with everything I was. Everything I had. And I loved him enough to wait until he felt the same.
“Did you go to the doctor like I asked?”
“No, and I’m fine,” he told me with mock sternness. “I’ve survived worse than a blow to the gut, don’t worry.”
Worse blows? I wondered at the in-between times, the ones I knew nothing about, and hoped to spare him from those memories in the future. If there was anything in my power to accomplish...
I pointed at the neat gash below his left eye. “What about that?”
“Hush now.” Isaac slowed his pace before coming to a halt at the foot of the porch steps. “I’m a grown man and I don’t need you fussing over me. I’d hate to see how you’d fare if Trent had had a knife.”
“Total and utter rage,” I answered with a chuckle.
“You weren’t exactly a chicken when you tried to bash his brains in with an oak branch.” Isaac reached out to run a gentle finger over my cheek. “He won’t bother us anymore, Es. He was a pathetic man tormented by his own bloated sense of power. Let’s see how his type manages in solitary confinement for a few years. He’ll never be able to hide from himself again.”
I recalled Trent’s eyes, deranged with his need for silence. To keep hold of his secrets until they turned to ash. “He’s as good as gone. Right?”
“Absolutely,” Isaac answered without hesitation. “Out of our lives. Although it’s going to take me way too long to get the image of you in a chokehold out of my head.”
I dashed forward to meet him, throwing my arms around him and sighing when he held tight. “Don’t worry.
There’s plenty of time to replace that image with others.” I eased back. “Isaac? Why did it take me so long to see what was right here, right in front of me?”
“Damned if I know. But I’m glad you finally did.” His lips came down heavy on my forehead and lingered there. Then he gripped my hand, pulling me off the porch and toward the woods. A quick whistle had the clatter of tiny claws tapping after us. Frank dashed ahead happily, ears flopping.
“What do we do now?” I chanced to ask, linking my fingers through his, the chain complete.
Isaac used the momentum of our strides to swing me forward. “We live, I guess. However we want to live.”
I bumped him with my shoulder. “Awfully grand words of wisdom.”
“Hey, I have some hidden depths. I thought you knew.”
Ahead, the first dark strips of vermillion burned through the sky, heralding sunset and the approach of twilight. “I did. Do. Ugh, you have me all messed up in the head.”
“I tend to do that to women.”
I chuckled and fisted my hands in his shirt to pull him close. Laying a palm over his heart, I felt the timing of his beats and knew my own would strive to match. Always.
“Guess I’m going to have to ditch my disorganized ways.” Grabbing me, he lifted me off my feet and drew the two of us around in a small circle.
“Of course! I’m great at organization.”
“Maybe you could even help me with the gastropub.”
There was too much happiness in me to even give a thought to the insinuation. I rested my cheek against his. “I knew you were only interested in my type A personality.”
He brought my knuckles to his mouth and placed a kiss on each one. “It’s gotta come in handy sometime. When I figure out how to deal with you, I’ll let you know.”
“When?”
“I said I’ll let you know. God, you’re infuriating.”
My heart fluttered. “Poop-head.”
Isaac looked down at me, affection evident in his eyes. He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind. I don’t plan on letting go of you for a while.”
“I don’t mind one bit.” I sighed when his fingertips brushed my temple and the bruise that refused to fade. Then I turned my lips to his palm. “How about you kiss me instead?”
“Yes ma’am.” With a final burst, Isaac closed this distance between us and latched onto my lips. One hand wrapped around the base of my neck and brought me closer.
I melted into a puddle the moment his tongue pressed against the seam of my lips. The heat of his body seared deep, his mouth continuing to minister to mine. The moment my lips parted, he deepened the kiss. I moaned against him, the sound spurring him on with a sensual exhalation.
His shudder became my own and I drew him close. Ready for all the naughty touching my lady parts urged me to do. The moment he released me, my head flew to the sky. Dizzy, I could do no more than hang on for dear life. Knowing he wouldn’t let go.
“There.” Isaac eased back, his dimples in evidence, the apples of his cheeks rosy. “I think I’ve made my point.”
THE END
AFTERWORD
Thank you very much for reading and I hope you enjoyed Sugar and Gold. Get ready for more lust, secrets, and romance from your favorite mountain town! Your Hand in Mine will release in 2018, along with a brand spanking new paranormal romance series. Not only will Shari and Fenton rock your world, but a whole universe of magic and mayhem awaits. In a world where magic is passed down along gender lines, what happens when a woman inherits her father’s powers? The Cavaldi Birthright series is set to launch in 2018 with the first installment, Fate Walks.
If you have a spare moment to leave a review, it would be much appreciated! Reviews help new readers find my work, along with providing helpful feedback for my writing. Also, why not enjoy updates and freebies? Join my newsletter to learn about upcoming releases, available titles, teasers, and more! Please feel free to sign up at www.breaviragh.com or follow on Facebook and Twitter.
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Also by Brea Viragh
Contemporary Romance
The Promise Me series
Hold Me
Touch Me
Kiss Me
Love Me
Heartwood Novels
Sugar and Gold
Your Hand in Mine (coming 2018)
Paranormal Romance
The Cavaldi Birthright series
Fate Walks (Book One – coming 2018)
Coming 2018
Read on for a sneak peek at Chapter One
CHAPTER ONE
You ever get to a point in life when you look in the mirror and screech? That’s me today. Me for the last ten years. Me since the day I popped out of the womb. Screeching. I never looked back.
Okay, there were a few times when I fought the urge to glance over my shoulder, sure. Then I kept one foot in front of the other. I kept running. My life a cycle of go, go, go. Suddenly you stop. You turn, and...yup. There’s the mirror. And it isn’t a pretty sight.
Today I was lucky I’d left the mirror at home because I was definitely sure to screech. I adjusted the fit of my halter bikini top, worn underneath a plain t-shirt, and squirmed against the hard wooden paddle at my back. Pre-summer sun cast a retina-searing glint on the water below my feet.
“This is messed up.” My glower was meant for the row of parents holding their sides against cramping chuckles. Like I was the picture of comedic gold.
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have volunteered to participate in the dunking tank for the school fair,” a certain Leslie Gordon told me with piggish delight. She was one of those moms who took pride in spreading her influence throughout her kingdom.
In this case, the Heartwood Middle School PTO.
“What did you think you’d be doing?” she continued, hands going to the hips of her designer khakis. “Throwing the balls?”
“I thought maybe I could do what you do. Like, scare the kids in the funhouse with my face,” I answered smartly. At least, I thought it was smart.
A woman sporting a typical let-me-talk-to-your-manager haircut spared a laugh before receiving a single quelling look from Leslie.
“Shari.” Leslie’s voice was patient now when she turned back to me. Patient and condescending at the same time. I wondered if it was the voice she used on her husband when he forgot to take out the trash. “Miss Vest. If you don’t feel comfortable with your volunteer duties, then maybe you shouldn’t have put your name on the list.”
I’d done it for my niece, because she was a smart kid and deserved to have someone around at the fundraiser who wasn’t a complete idiot. Glancing around and spotting her standing next to her parents, siblings, and extended family, I could see my gut was right on the money. Nothing but nincompoops. What would the technical term be in this case? A gaggle? A herd? A murder of nincompoops?
“No, no, I’m fine. Better me on this platform than you.” I spared a glance down at the dunk tank and artificially colored blue water below.
“Why is that?” Leslie asked cautiously.
“Because I won’t melt when I get wet.”
This time a whole chorus of hastily covered laughter rewarded me. Instead of replying, Leslie stormed off in a huff, her cronies following closely behind.
I turned to look down at my best friend, her eyes finding mine. “And that is how you deal with a bitch,” I told her. “It works every time.”
Essie Townsend shook her head. “Have I ever told you how much I admire your ability to stand up to bullies? You cut straight to the chase. It’s brilliant.”
“Dealing with them is just another part of life. Bitches are everywhere, and if you aren’t ready to stoop to their level...” I trailed off and adjusted the set of my t-shirt, a plain blue shirt designed to hide the voluptuousness of my bosom. Just because I’d volunteered didn’t mean I wanted teenage boys copping a peek at the goods. Especially with the halter top. “But yes, keep up the admiration. I could u
se a little boost.”
“You’ll be fine. This is right up your alley. And the kids are going to love you. They find your sense of humor charming.”
I settled in for the long haul, getting comfortable. “They’re going to love a chance to throw a ball and sink an adult, is what you mean?”
Essie weighed one of the baseballs in her hand before miming a throw. No way she would hit the target even by some stroke of luck. She was a classic example of if you can’t do, and if you can’t teach, volunteer. “Same difference. How long did you say this thing lasts?”
“About five hours,” I answered.
“Think we’ll have time to grab a funnel cake on the way out?”
“You know I love it when you scope out the competition.”
She sent me a saucy smile over her shoulder before turning to face the crowd. Essie owned a bakery in town, one with the best damn chocolate and orange scones I’d ever tasted. And no, my hips were not curvy and delectable because of the sweets. I’d been born that way.
“Why didn’t you bring what’s-his-face with you?” she asked, changing the subject. “The beefcake of the month. Joe? Bob? Billy Joe Bob? I can’t keep up with the hunks.”
I took no great pleasure in telling her, “You mean Newman? He’s history.”
“Oh? You hadn’t said anything. I’m sorry.” Essie burped, a sure sign she was getting nervous. Large crowds tended to bring out gastrointestinal anxiety in my little Betty Crocker friend. “I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
I shrugged, not bothered in the least. This one had lasted approximately one month and two days, not counting the week of mind-blowing sex we’d had before making it semi-official. Then I found out he left his socks on when he took a shower. I mean, honestly, who does something like that? Someone inhuman. “It’s no big deal. He wasn’t holding my interest anyway.”
“Too boring?” she wanted to know.
“Not boring enough.” I crossed my legs and tried not to think about the breakup. Or the water. “He told me he’d bought plane tickets to Akron and he wanted to take me with him for a long weekend.” I didn’t tell her about the socks. It would have ruined her afternoon.
