Anything More Than Now (Sutton College #2)

by Rebecca Paula

  I inhale, ducking my head and rubbing my brow before I look up and fall into the face of a hundred lifetimes. Reagan stares back with wide blue eyes, her hands clutching my book to her middle. Black lace wraps tight around her body, some see-through, the rest a fitted black dress. Her black heels are vintage, her lips the perfect shade of kiss-me red. I want so badly to feel them against mine.

  “If you hand over your book, Mr. Stone will sign it for you,” Jessica says, prompting Reagan.

  She reaches out and drops it onto the table, everything about her so soft yet stiff. The fire that burned in her eyes has dulled to nothing but blue. Sapphire pools deep with memories of what we shared, of such sweet success and failure.

  I open the book, my hand shaking, as I scratch the words out with my marker.

  To my shadow chaser, to my fighter, to you, Reagan. To everything that’s more than now, to a future full of anything, to a present full of something. To nights of dancing among the stars barefoot, to mornings wrapped up in sheets and secrets. To you. Always you. —Noah

  I slide the book across the table, novels waiting to be spun on my tongue from what I want to say to her. Instead, Reagan softly smiles and slips her fingers over mine in a slow caress. She leans closer, her voice low as she whispers, “We don’t have to say anything. I just needed to come tonight.” She draws her hand back and stands. “I’m proud of you, too.”

  She slips back into the crowd, disappears and takes my heart with her.

  I jump from my seat. “One minute, Jessica. Just give me a minute.” The line moves aside as I glimpse Reagan by the door, her back against the wall, her hand to her mouth as she reads what I wrote.

  “Reagan.”

  Her head snaps up, her eyes full of tears. She stuffs the book into her bag and ducks outside into the rain. I chase out after her. The dark swallows us as lights flare up and burst, flashing over her back as she runs in her heels over the sidewalk.

  “Reagan,” I yell again.

  Cold rain strikes me as I quicken my pace and catch up to her. I gently grab her hand and spin her around to face me in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “I said we didn’t have to say anything,” she snaps, wiping away the loose hair framing her face. “And now you did, and you messed everything up.” She pushes her hand against my chest. “You always have to mess everything up. Can’t you follow the rules? Can’t you—”

  I slip my hand around the back of her thighs and lift her against me.

  Reagan gazes down at me, her hand softly running across my cheek and back into my short hair. “Why can’t you just follow the rules?” she whispers. Her red lips rush over mine in the rain as a city night washes over us in cold strikes. “Why do I have to love you so much?” Reagan wraps her arms around my neck and leans against my forehead. “Say something, Noah. Say anything.”

  “Don’t go. Come inside.” My lips skirt the edge of her jaw, the raindrops gliding down her cheeks. “Stay with me.” I slowly lift her higher, sliding my second arm over the lacy back of her dress. “Let me love you.”

  Reagan ducks her head and rests it by my shoulder. I feel her lips stretch into a smile against my neck. “As if a girl like me could ever say no to a boy like you.”

  Epilogue

  Noah

  I walk into the ranch’s kitchen, listening to the group outside laugh. Reagan is dancing to Motown while mixing another pitcher of sangria.

  “A private show?”

  She smiles at me over her shoulder, then turns back, plucking a cherry off its stem with her lips.

  I come up behind her, smelling her and summer, and feeling so completely at home and at peace. “He’s asleep on the couch,” I whisper.

  “I’m going to miss him, but I’m glad he got to visit for a weekend.”

  Ryder isn’t coming with us to New York in a few weeks. Kelsey has been out of rehab since last summer and is doing well, so Trina is helping her and Ryder find an apartment in Portland. It’s been hard for Reagan to let go, but I’m happy she has. Selfish reasons aside, her heart is in New York and she deserves a fair chance at that dream. And since I got my first three-book deal as Noah Burke instead of Asher Stone, I’m excited to start living mine too.

  I nip at her neck, her head lolling to one side. I try to kiss her, but my cap tassel brushes across her face and she laughs. She spins so she’s pinned between me and the counter.

  “Are you going to take this off, Mr. Graduate?”

  I grab the tassel and tickle her nose with it again.

  She cups my face, tilting it so she can kiss me, long and slow. “I’m proud of you, Noah.”

  I always thought the Grinch was full of shit, but I swear I feel my heart swell ten sizes too big. All because of this girl of mine, this woman I never want to let go.

  “I’ll take it off if you keep dancing.”

  She steps up to her tiptoes and takes it off, tossing it on the counter. It lands, narrowly avoiding the half-eaten cake that now read “ats, Noah,” in shaky script. She shoves a pitcher into my hands, not noticing the slight tremble in them or my sweaty palms. I waggle my eyebrows and she chuckles, grabbing another pitcher herself. “Later…when we don’t have a house full of people.”

  I like her using the word we. I like being included in that, even if the party is more of a cookout and only Beau, Matisse, my brother, and his girlfriend are the last ones left. We’ve been sitting out by the fire for half the night, not doing anything special besides living, taking one perfect night for ourselves.

  I follow behind her, stepping out onto the back porch. Beau glances at me expectantly, but I shake my head. I’ve been working up the nerve to do it all weekend. Well, not nerve. I’m not exactly scared, I’m just not exactly sure how Reagan is going to react.

  She looks perfect tonight wearing a red sundress, her hair still long, but she’s grown her bangs out. Those gorgeous eyes of hers aren’t hiding any longer. She jokes with Matisse, filling up glasses.

  “When are you going to get married already?” my brother’s girlfriend teases Matisse.

  Matisse beams, gazing over to Beau with such love. He winks back at her. “I keep asking….”

  The line of questioning is getting too close. I’ve worked so hard to keep it a surprise. Only Beau knows. He helped me pick out the ring, the same day he bought one for Matisse a few months back during spring break.

  “Time for a game,” I cut in. Beau shakes his head at me and laughs. He doesn’t have to say anything more. I’ve never once said that in my life. I look like the biggest idiot right now, which is probably why the rest of the group turns as if I announced I was running for president.

  “I’m cutting you off,” Reagan teases, pulling the empty cup from my hand. It’s funny she thinks I’m drunk. Except for one beer, I haven’t had much to drink tonight. It’s just when you’re going to ask the woman you’ve loved for almost four years to marry you, a guy can get giddy. Or pathetic. Or more aptly, lovesick.

  Why the fuck am I being such a coward?

  I brush her teasing off and the group plays Seven Up for another hour until slowly, the couples start disappearing to bed, leaving me and Reagan by the fire.

  She’s sitting across my lap, her head against my chest. The fire licks shadows over her tanned skin and everything is quiet, everything is perfect.

  I scribble two notes, then stick them to her forehead.

  “One more guess,” I say.

  She nods, yawning into my shirt. “You better be quick, or there won’t be any dancing.” Her lips spread into a smile and I can’t help myself, I bend my head and meet her lips. She told me once I smelled of summer and I laughed. I bet she’d do the same if I confess she tastes of summer…of the sun, berries, fresh water, and that quiet hope that carries the day a little further into the dark.

  “Am I a woman?”

  “Yes, and heart-achingly gorgeous.”

  She frowns, playfully knocking her hand into my shoulder. “Am I important?”


  “Paramount.”

  “Do I have a skill?”

  “You love deeply and are completely loyal. Even to a fault.”

  Reagan thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “You’re making this hard.”

  “Then skip ahead,” I whisper. “Tell me the answer.”

  She peels the sticky off of her head and frowns at the first note I purposely wrote in French. She notices there’s another underneath and exhales when she finishes reading: Will you marry me, Reagan Elizabeth Landry?

  Summer buzzes around us, the fire snaps, and another copper spark flares and fades into the night. Then she turns to me, her bottom lip shaking but those eyes of hers as piercing and steady as ever.

  “Will you marry me?” I repeat. My voice quivers as her lips break into a smile. “Will you share the rest of now with me?”

  Shit. I had more planned out, but I blank. I kiss her nose and reach into my pocket, pulling out the velvet box and flipping it open to reveal a simple solitaire on a vintage silver band.

  “You’re it for me, Reagan. I love you.”

  Tears cloud her eyes and she kisses me, wrapping her arms tight around my neck. “I’m all yours, Noah.” She kisses my cheek and maybe I’m crying now too, I don’t know. My cheeks are numb from smiling too much. I slip the ring on her finger and she holds me tighter. So I stand and swing us around as the two of us whisper promises, vows, words and words of love until I carry her to the bedroom to show her our love.

  That’s coming home. That’s being found. That’s our now and hopefully forever.

  The End

  Note to my readers

  I want to thank you, yes you, my lovely reader! I hope you enjoyed Anything More Than Now. I appreciate the time you took to read this book and would love to hear what you think. Please consider leaving a review—whether on Goodreads or wherever you prefer. Reviews help other readers discover new books and help us authors, too!

  If you’d like to hear more about my new releases, please consider signing up for my newsletter. I’d love to hear from you, too. You can connect with me on Twitter @beckapaula or on Facebook. I also have a reader group that includes lots of exclusive teasers and giveaways. And you can visit my website to learn more about my contemporary and historical romances.

  If you enjoyed ANYTHING MORE THAN NOW and want more content, I’ll be sending out bonus content to readers. Just email rebeccapaula.author@gmail.com with proof of your review and I’ll email you a deleted scene.

  Stay tuned for the third book in the Sutton College series, SOMETHING BETTER THAN THIS, out Fall 2016.

  Acknowledgements

  Confession time. When I wrote about Beau and Mati, I was secretly dreaming of writing about Noah and Reagan. They were tough to love in BETWEEN EVERYTHING AND US and I wanted to know what made them tick. Well, their truths were hard to uncover but I’m so happy to be able to share their story. They saw me through a really tough year, along with some friends I’d love to thank.

  First, I need to thank my editor. Deborah Nemeth always understands my characters and pushes me to dig deeper to uncover the story that will move readers. I’m forever thankful to have her work on my books. I also want to thank Sarah Henning for copy editing. She went above and beyond to make my words shine. And of course my books look as gorgeous as they do because of the talented Maggie Hall.

  I wouldn’t be writing without the support and encouragement of my husband. While writing this book I fell in love with him all over again through a really rough year. This book is yours. And that dedication that Noah writes to Reagan is mine to you.

  Speaking of a rough year, everything was so uncertain that I’d be lost without my friends and their support. I’d like to thank Sybil Bartel, my MTWBWY girls, my chapter mates from NHRWA, and the girls from RWA. From a broken mind to a broken foot, everyone cheered me on and helped me make the best of some crummy situations.

  Lastly, I’d like to thank the bloggers and readers who continue to fall in love with my characters. I wouldn’t be here without you.

  About the Author

  Rebecca writes smart, emotional, and gritty New Adult and historical romances featuring flawed characters struggling to find their place in the world. She’s a lover of rainy days, an unabashed anglophile, and a devote Earl Gray tea drinker. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and their very spoiled cat, Bella. A wanderlust connoisseur, Rebecca can be caught daydreaming about her next travel adventure when not writing.

  You can find out more about her and her books at www.rebeccapaula.com. Rebecca loves hear from her readers. You can email her at rebeccapaula.author@gmail.com.