by Jo Leigh
She lifted a brow at him, and he smiled. “There’s one last thing I need to tell you. Well, to ask you.”
“Okay?”
Dom looked into her beautiful eyes. What he found there was more than trust and kindness. He saw the courage he needed to take this next step. “I love you, Sara Moretti, with all my heart. Will you marry me?”
Her eyes grew large as her jaw dropped. “Are you kidding?”
“Why would I joke about something like that?”
“Well, okay then.”
“Okay, what?”
She shook her head, as if he was being particularly slow. “Okay, yes. I’ll marry you. And you’ll marry me.”
“Thank God,” he whispered, pulling her tight against him. When he finally released his hold, she looked up at him.
“Our mothers are going to be complete nightmares.”
His groan was cut off by a stunning kiss from the woman he loved.
Four months later...
THE FAMILY DINNERS at Joe and Theresa’s had become one of Sara’s favorite things. Tonight was even more special. After much searching and talking, she and Dom had finally found their dream home—a brownstone on Prince St.
Smiling at her with an excitement that felt brand new, Dom returned from the dining room with her glass of Prosecco. “Sorry about the wait. My father decided to remind me again that we should get a move on with the wedding and babies. Not that he’s obsessed or anything.”
He joined Sara on the couch, sitting so close they touched from shoulder to knee. Just how Sara liked it. “At least he’s consistent,” she said, grinning.
“You’d think it would be enough for him that Catherine’s three months along, and there’s Luca and April’s wedding in a few months.”
“I think he’ll feel better when we pick a date.”
“To be honest, me, too.”
Sara smiled. “You’d be happy with a quick trip to city hall, when we both know the whole neighborhood would rise up in protest. But you’re right. We should start narrowing things down.”
He took her hand in his and threaded her fingers between his. Leaning closer, he kissed her gently. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
“The minute we woke up, if I recall correctly.”
Before he could respond, Tony showed up in front of the couch, dragging an ottoman behind him. “Hey, so, you guys talk any more about the townhouse reno? You need to get with Luca on the designs sooner rather than later. It looks like we’re going to win the bid on the Green Street Hotel renovation.”
Somehow, even over the sound of Dean Martin coming from the old stereo, Luca must have heard Tony, because he wandered out of the dining room with April, and joined them. “I’ve been doing some quick sketches on the Arts & Crafts style you were talking about. It’s a great choice for that house.”
“I was thinking,” Sara said. “Would it be possible to make the front windows larger? The size of Tony’s?”
Luca and Tony both nodded and Dom squeezed her hand. “That’s a great idea, honey.”
She sipped her sparkling wine, wanting to pinch herself as she listened to the brothers get all technical about what would become her new home. She’d never imagined herself with a life like this. With a future so startlingly bright.
To live in a house she’d share with the love of her life. Where, hopefully, they’d have three kids. Okay, maybe four. Where she would work as a freelance journalist, and watch her husband shine as he helped their community become a safe haven and a place of pride for the old timers as well as the new generations to come.
Soon enough, her father and Joe wandered in and added their two cents about the brownstone while Catherine and April slipped away, probably to help out Theresa and Nonna in the kitchen, along with Sara’s mom. Ellie and her boyfriend were due any minute, and then the picture would be complete. Three generations together. Cooking and talking and arguing and laughing. She was the luckiest woman in all of New York. Ever since Dom had walked back into her life.
This was her family now. And she couldn’t wait to see each new chapter unfold. Little Italy might be dwindling, but the spirit would never die. Not when the Paladinos were still around.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from WILD SEDUCTION by Daire St. Denis.
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Wild Seduction
by Daire St. Denis
1
EVERYTHING LOOKED BETTER behind the lens of a camera. Ashley Ozark focused on a group at the end of the bar, and the shutter of her Canon EOS 5D Mark III made a delightful swish as she captured a head thrown back in laughter, a sardonic look from a friend, another face shadowed by a cowboy hat and a fourth wiping his brow. She smiled, happy with the result of the image, a conversation between friends and rivals, so intimate she almost felt like she’d overheard it.
She knew those men, rodeo boys, probably egging each other on, making bets, relieving tension before the county fair and rodeo this weekend.
A sharp-nailed, rat-a-tat-tat, on the top of her head made her lower the camera.
“Ouch.”
Her older sister, Beth, stood to her side. “You’re supposed to be helping bartend tonight. Not spending the entire time behind that camera.”
“I’ve been hired to take pictures by the County Fair Committee. I’m just doing my job here.”
“Yes, and you’ve also been hired to tend bar tonight.” She indicated the long line of patrons waiting to be served. “By our father, I might add, who is also on the Fair Committee.”
“Okay, okay.” Ashley sighed, tucking the camera away into its bag and storing it under the counter. “I got some great candids in here.”
“I’m sure you did.” Beth tossed an apron at her head, but Ash caught it before it hit her face. “Now put that on and get to work.”
“Tyrant,” she muttered.
“You got that right.”
“Bully.”
“Exactly. Now get to work before I kick your ass.”
“Like you could.”
With a grin, Ashley tied the apron around her waist and lifted her chin at the next person in line, indicating she was ready to take their order. While she helped out at the bar on the odd occasion because the Prospector Saloon in the Gold Dust Hotel was owned by her family, it really wasn’t her scene. She preferred her quiet job at the
flower shop, Heart’s Bouquet, down the street. However, during the county fair it was a given—all hands on deck. That meant all five of the Ozark girls were required to help: she and Beth behind the bar, Brandi on the floor and the twins, Zoe and Chloe, in the kitchen. This year it was even more imperative because it was Half Moon High’s Centennial celebration, so they expected more out-of-towners than normal. Based on the crowd tonight, it was an accurate assumption.
Ashley was happy to help. It meant extra dough, both working at the saloon and taking pictures, and every penny she made was going toward her Get-the-hell-out-of-Half-Moon Fund. So she plastered on a smile and kept the cold ones coming. Already the bar was standing room only, even though the festivities didn’t officially start until tomorrow. The din from people talking and laughing was so loud, it drowned out the sound of the band. That was until her sister Brandi got up on stage between songs and grabbed the mic.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she bellowed and yet still managed to sound sultry in a way that only Brandi could with her practiced, husky voice.
People stopped talking and heads turned—or at least, every male head turned, like a flock of sheep.
Baaaaa.
“For those who are visiting, welcome back to Half Moon Creek. We’re so pleased you were able to come to the rodeo and fair this year and to celebrate Half Moon High’s Centennial Celebration. We’ll be kicking everything off Friday morning—Oh, my God! That’s tomorrow, already—with a parade followed by the rodeo and opening of the fair grounds. Don’t forget to pick up tickets for Saturday’s big formal banquet. Tickets are still available at the front desk and...”
“Sweetheart?” came a voice from her left. “A little help here. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes and...”
Ashley spun toward the deep voice. She turned up the volume on her smile when she saw who it was. Colton Cross. Figured. The cocky, bull-riding cowboy was exactly the kind of person who would think it was okay—no, not okay—he probably figured she’d be flattered by him calling her sweetheart.
“Well now, honey baby. What can I get for my sugar pie?”
“What?” Colton mouthed the words sugar pie with a look of confusion on his unfortunately handsome features.
“Oh. I’m sorry, sweetie, aren’t we on a ‘terms of endearment’ basis?”
“Umm...” Colton’s brows drew together so close they formed one line across his forehead. “Ahh...whatever you say, darlin’. Can I get two pints of Beaverhead draft and an order of nachos—”
“You did not,” Ashley said, leaning across the bar. This was exactly why she couldn’t wait to leave Half Moon. Macho rodeo jerks like Colton Cross.
“I did not, what?” He asked slowly.
She rolled her eyes. “Call me darlin’—”
Oomph.
Beth elbowed Ashley out of the way.
“Hey, Colt,” Ashley’s oldest sister said with a genuine smile, while inconspicuously giving Ashley a side kick to the butt. “Don’t mind my sister. She’s weird.”
“She’s your sister?” Colton said, looking back and forth between Beth and Ashley and then glancing over his shoulder at Brandi who was still on stage talking animatedly about some of the highlights of the weekend.
“There are two more of us hiding out around here, somewhere.” Beth gave a vague wave toward the kitchen. “Five Ozark girls in total.”
“Wow. I did not know you two were sisters.” He glanced at Ashley again, who was openly scowling at him because, seriously, the fact that Colton Cross had no idea who she was only confirmed her opinion of him: self-centered, chauvinistic, thickheaded...oh, she could go on. Egomaniac, cocky, disgustingly good-looking...
“Didn’t you two go to grade school together before you moved?” Beth asked.
“Yep.” Ashley said the word, short and clipped, giving him the coldest look she could muster. By the way he tilted his head to one side and then the other as he gave her a quick once over, she knew he had no recollection of her. Zip. No memory of Valentine’s Day in fifth grade when she’d gone and made him a special Valentine and he’d repaid her by spitting in her hair later that day in the playground. Didn’t matter that her family had known his family for years or that ever since he’d returned to Half Moon a few months ago to help his brother out at his guest ranch, he’d been the talk of the town. Well, the talk of the female population, anyway.
“Oh yeah,” Colton said slowly, covering up the fact he couldn’t place her. “Nice to see you again... Bren-da, right?”
Nice try, hotshot. “It’s Ashley.”
“Right. Now I remember.”
As if.
She poured the beer and slid the frosty glasses across the bar. “Tab?”
“Yes, please. Oh, and about those nachos...?”
She nodded and, without another word to him, rang in the order and then began serving the next customer in line.
“Try to be a little nicer,” Beth whispered in her ear.
“I am nice,” Ash said through clenched teeth.
“No, you’re ornery.”
“So?”
“So, the nicer you are, the more tips you make.” Her sister eyed her apparel and sighed. “It doesn’t hurt to flirt a little either, which would help because that outfit isn’t doing a thing for you.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Once Beth turned her attention to the next customer, Ashley glanced down at her well-worn jeans and T-shirt with the slogan Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History. It was one of her favorites. Plus, it could be interpreted as flirty, couldn’t it?
“Boo!”
It took Ashley a few seconds to recognize the woman who had jumped into her line of sight. Not because she didn’t know her—she had been Ashley’s best friend for her entire high school life—only because she hadn’t seen her in five years, and Jasmine Sweet was the last person Ash expected to see tonight.
“Jazzy?”
Her friend waved her arms in the air. “In the flesh!” She squealed, hopped up onto the bar—which was a maneuver that did not jibe with the designer clothes she was wearing—slid across to the other side, hopped down and enveloped Ash in a bear hug, making Ash’s eyes water from the combination of the fierceness of the embrace and the floral perfume that floated around Jasmine like the sweet scent of honeysuckle on a summer’s eve. Or...like a cloud of gnats before a rainstorm.
Ashley patted Jasmine’s back until the woman finally let up, stepping back and smiling down at her, which was odd because she and Jasmine had always been the same height.
Short. Or, fun-sized, as Jasmine called the two of them.
“Look at you! You haven’t changed a bit,” Jasmine gushed.
Ashley was going to say, “Neither have you.” But it would have been a lie. Jasmine had changed since she’d managed to escape Half Moon a week after graduation. She’d always been beautiful, but now she looked different. She was sophisticated, with her expert makeup and hair pulled back in a chic ponytail. Ash realized the height difference was due to a pair of red, high-heeled shoes that perfectly matched Jasmine’s designer handbag. Her clothes were clearly expensive—tailored black capris and a sheer sleeveless top in white that accented her dark skin tone—simple and elegant while still being sexy.
She was the same old Jasmine, only improved—vastly—with age.
“You look amazing,” Ash said, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on the front of her old jeans. “What are you doing back here?”
“What do you mean?” Jasmine’s dark eyes glowed with excitement as she glanced happily around the bar. “I’m here for the same reason everyone else is. To see old friends and to celebrate the centennial, Half Moon style!” Her laugh was infectious, as always.
“Wow.” That’s all Ash
could come up with, still in a state of disbelief by Jasmine’s unexpected arrival.
“How long has it been?” Jazz asked before holding up a hand to stop Ash from answering. “No, wait, don’t tell me, it’ll only make me feel like a terrible friend.” She leaned close in order to whisper in her ear, “We have so much catching up to do.”
“Yeah,” Ashley murmured, smoothing her own haphazard ponytail, awkwardly.
“But first—” Jasmine took in the lineup of patrons waiting to be served “—you look like you could use a little help behind the bar.”
“Oh, no,” Ash protested, assessing Jasmine’s outfit and deeming it too put-together to be worn by a bartender in a busy saloon where it would undoubtedly get messed up. “Really, you don’t need to do that.”
“Did someone just offer assistance?” Beth sidled over, grinning broadly as she inserted herself between Ash and her friend.
“Beth!” Jazz squealed and gave Beth a hug.
“Was Ash surprised?” Beth asked.
Ashley blinked at her sister. She knew Jazz was coming and didn’t tell her?
Beth read her thoughts—as only Beth could—and said, “Jazz called to say she wanted to surprise you.” She winked. “By the expression on your face, I’d say Jazz got you pretty good.”
“She sure did. Wow.” Ash cringed internally. Really? Was that all she could come up with? Wow?
Slinging her arm over Jasmine’s shoulder, Beth said, “And you are even more gorgeous than ever. Seriously, Jasmine, what’s your secret?”
“No secret. Chicago agrees with me, I guess.” Waving her hand at the crowded bar, she asked, “Please, tell me I can help back here.”
“Of course you can.”
The next half hour was a blur of pouring drinks and taking orders and trying to keep all the bar tabs straight, but with Jasmine’s help, things went more smoothly and the tip jar was soon filled to overflowing. It didn’t hurt that Jasmine knew pretty much everyone and chatted them up in typical Jazzy fashion, as if she truly cared about each and every one of them.
