by RC Boldt
Suddenly, he straightened, and he almost appeared embarrassed. “Sorry, I’m babbling.” Walking closer to her, he drew his hands up to frame her face, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Go get changed, Lee.” Smiling down at her with a look she couldn’t manage to decipher, he added, “I’ve got to change, as well. Meet you in the living room, okay?” Once she’d nodded, after a quick wink, he was gone, closing the bedroom door behind him.
Who was this man? It was like one moment, he was the typical, joking Lawson Briggs, but in another moment, he was …
Shit, she didn’t know how to finish that. Because saying that he was like the man of her dreams was not only corny as hell but also untrue—she’d never had a dream guy.
But Lawson? The guy who was probably getting dressed across the hall? The same guy who kept showing her all of what Tate had referred to as his ‘layers’? He was rapidly becoming what she’d have no choice but to classify as a dream guy. Her potential dream guy.
Except for one little thing—one tiny fact—that made her feel as though she were having trouble catching her breath.
Lawson Briggs wasn’t a dream. He was real. Which made it seem like it was possible for him to become hers.
And hell, if that idea wasn’t simultaneously tempting and frightening.
C
HAPTER SEVENTEEN
Weiler’s law: Nothing is impossible for the man who doesn’t have himself to do it.
Lawson’s take: A little hard work never hurt anyone, and sky’s the limit when you put your mind to it. Well, what do you know? I just sounded like one of those inspirational posters I have up in my classroom.
~
DO NOT THINK OF LEE getting undressed. Do not think of Lee getting undressed. Don’t think of her removing that blue dress. The dress there was no way she’d worn a bra beneath.
Don’t. Think. About. It.
Lawson let out a low growl filled with irritation at himself as he pulled on an old pair of workout pants, slapping on some deodorant before throwing on a clean short-sleeved shirt. Quickly brushing his teeth just in case kissing happened, and Please, God, let it happen, he ran a hand over his jaw, feeling the beginning of stubble and frowned. Because while he might not be a ladies man like Foster Kavanaugh, even he knew that women didn’t want to end up with layers upon layers of their skin abraded by scruff.
Shit. Glancing at his phone, he realized he didn’t have time to spare. No time to shave because he didn’t want them to miss it.
Exiting his bathroom, and grabbing the bundle of items before opening his bedroom door and stepping out into the hallway, he noted the open door to the other room and assumed Lee was waiting for him in the living room. He found her perusing his collection of DVDs stacked neatly on the sides of the entertainment center. She didn’t turn upon hearing his approach, merely continued her inspection of his movie collection.
“You like the original Star Wars movies, huh?”
Her question flew over his head entirely, or through one ear and out the other … however it should be phrased. Blindly, he sat his bundle down on the side of the couch.
“Lee, what are you wearing?” He could hear the lethally quiet quality of his voice.
Her head whipped around and she straightened slowly, turned toward him, her eyes meeting his with a slight wariness. “Pants and a T-shirt,” she answered slowly. Tilting her head to the side, she gave him an odd look. “What are you wearing, Laws?”
Moving closer, backing her up against the entertainment center, his hands went to her hips. Huskily, he replied, “I’m not wearing these snug little black pants that,” his hands slid around to glide over her ass, “make this look amazing. And this shirt,” he shook his head with mock disappointment, playfully tugging at the hem of her shirt, “is making it really hard to be a gentleman.” With a long sigh, lips quirking up into a grin, he kissed her forehead. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”
“Late for what?”
“See, you will. Come. Come.” After winking at her, he scooped up his large bundle of items from the couch, heading over to the sliding glass door to the porch.
“Did you just pull a Yoda on me, Briggs?” He could hear the amusement in her tone. Sliding the door opened, he stepped out, flashing a cocky grin, and held out a hand for her.
“Come with me, Lee.” He deepened his voice, and schooling his features to look stern, he attempted to impersonate Darth Vader. “It is your dest-i-ny.”
Snorting a small laugh, she shook her head; brown hair, which had lost much of the curls from earlier, framed her face, and he found himself captivated by her eyes. The way they were currently lit up with amusement, instead of the look in them that had been so startlingly desolate when they had first met, pleased him.
Because, when they’d first met, he had instantly noticed that those gorgeous brown eyes appeared almost … haunted. And that old saying that the eyes were a portal into someone’s soul? That had flashed like a neon sign in his mind when he’d first met her gaze. The first inclination, the first instinctual urge he’d had was that he needed to hold her. That this woman needed him.
And, yeah. He wholeheartedly recognized how fucking crazy that sounded. A woman who had been the only one out of twenty-six females to succeed in becoming the first female integrated in the Special Forces as a combat pararescue jumper. That woman needed him?
Pfffft. Yeah, right.
But the longer he’d watched her, noticed how she held herself back, studied those deep, chocolatey brown eyes of hers, he couldn’t deny the feeling.
Langley Ford—Lee—needed him to show her that life was one worth living.
He just never expected her to show him what he suspected was what some of his friends had already experienced. What they had all witnessed on the beach earlier that night.
He suspected she might just show him all about love.
* * *
There was no way Lawson could possibly know that the original Star Wars movies were her all-time favorites. That she knew all the lines by heart. And when he had done an admittedly bad imitation of Darth Vader, she felt another part of those long-standing walls of her defenses weaken.
Stepping over the threshold and onto the back deck of the house, she noticed he had a peculiar expression on his face. Trying to play it off, she waved her hand. “These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”
Lawson threw his head back in a deep, hearty laugh at her impersonation of Obi Wan Kenobi, and it felt like someone had just kicked her in the solar plexus.
Holy shit.
Sure, she’d seen and heard him laugh many times before, so it wasn’t the fact that he was laughing that got to her. It was the fact that she had been the one to make him throw his head back in such boisterous laughter. The feeling of pride that ran through her was undeniable.
So was the urge to make it happen again—to be the reason for Lawson’s eyes lighting up with such unadulterated joy and humor.
Laughter subsiding, he fixed his blue eyes on hers, the remnants of humor still visible in the depths. “Time to head up, gorgeous.” Sliding the door closed behind them, he walked a few steps to the side of the deck, approaching what appeared to be a small, spiral staircase. One of his feet went to the first step before he faltered, head turning her way.
“The gentlemanly thing to do would be to let you go up first but, I’ve got to be honest, Lee …” He grinned at her in the darkness, his features only slightly visible in the light given off by the half-moon. “I’ll be checking you out every step of the way.” One shoulder lifted and dropped in a half shrug. “Your choice.”
There’s no chance she would’ve been able to provide a reason if someone would have asked her where her actions—where this version of herself— had come from in the next moment. Because, without even a second thought, there she was, sliding in front of Lawson, grasping the railing, and climbing upward.
And putting a whole hell of a lot of swing in her hips. Every single step along
the incline.
Below her, she heard him let out a loud groan. “Leeeeeee.” The way he dragged out her name—and, yes, she’d begun to think of that as her name—made her smile.
She heard him as he climbed up the stairs behind her, with whatever bundle of things he’d swung over his shoulder. Arriving at the top of the stairs, she found that it had led them to the roof of the house, a flat section likely to be used for sunbathing, enclosed with a small border of railing. She turned and faced the direction of where the ocean sat, a block away from the beach house. Already, she could focus on the soothing sound of the Atlantic Ocean’s waves crashing loudly against the shoreline, the peaceful night surrounding them.
Sensing him moving around behind her, she turned, eyes adjusting to the dim light to find him slightly crouched, laying out what appeared to be sleeping bags with built-in pillows at the head of them.
Quirking an eyebrow, she asked, “You expecting to get lucky, Briggs?”
He huffed out a laugh. “Not quite.” After smoothing out the fabric of the two sleeping bags beside one another, he stood. “We’re going to get our star-gazing on. But that’s not the best part.”
Allowing him to guide her to sit down on one of the bags, she watched as he lowered himself down beside her, leaning to lie upon his back, gazing up at the darkened sky above them, and she followed suit.
“What’s the best part?”
His head turned on his pillow, looking at her. “The best part is that tonight we’re also supposed to be able to see Jupiter and Mars.” Returning his gaze to the sky, he pointed up to a spot. “See that there? I believe that’s Jupiter.”
She looked up at the sky, amazed at how clear their view was of the stars above. “Wow,” she breathed out. That was all she could manage because it was an incredible sight. They laid there upon the soft, cushiony sleeping bags on the rooftop deck, gazing up at the night sky with nothing but the sounds of the ocean surrounding them.
When Lawson finally broke the silence, his voice was quiet, subdued. “Sometimes I come up here on nights like this … to think.” Turning her head to face him, she took in his profile, watching as his lips twisted wryly before he continued speaking. “To ponder the meaning of life.” When he faced her, she realized they were merely inches apart. Reaching out to run a finger along his jawline, which was now sporting some scruff, she wasn’t sure what made her ask the next question.
“Do you believe in miracles?” Her own voice was soft, quiet in the silence, and she felt as though they were ensconced in their own little world there on that rooftop. Eyes meeting his, she noticed the flare of surprise in them at her question and it was a moment before he replied.
“Absolutely.” His answer was so firm, spoken with such certainty behind it that it took her by surprise.
“Really?”
With a subdued smile, he nodded. “You haven’t been around to witness the miracles I’ve seen to know what I’m talking about. But my friends—family, really—they’ve been through a lot. And that’s putting it lightly.” Redirecting his gaze up to the night sky, he fell silent for a moment.
“Watching Raine go through breast cancer was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.” He swallowed hard before continuing. “You see her now and it’s hard to believe—hell, it’s hard for me to believe it some days—that she’d endured her own sort of hell a few years ago. We watched as that cute, little brunette who’s always got a smile for everyone had to start forcing the smiles. We watched her on days where she had a hard time keeping it together. Had a rough time believing that she’d persevere.” His jaw worked, clenching and unclenching for a brief moment before his lips quirked upward.
“But, like a snap of your fingers, I swear,” he gave a rough sounding chuckle, “she’d pick herself up and that fierceness was back. She’d tell us she was over her pity party, and that she was back to fighter status.
“We watched her go through surgery, watched her struggle with feeling inadequate afterward. But, I swear, ninety-nine percent of the time, you’d see her with that smile on her face, still there for all of us if we needed her.” He blew out a long breath, turning to face her again.
“When she met Mac, it was like when you fit that final piece of the puzzle into place. Everything comes together. We saw it. Knew that she, of all people, deserved the kind of happiness, the kind of love that only Mac could give her. Not that he didn’t struggle with his own issues a bit there,” he shrugged, “but that’s where we came in. Because that’s what we do. Family takes care of one another.” His eyes seemed like lasers, meeting her gaze intently. “When you see a miracle in the works, you do everything in your power to help it along.”
Turning back to face the starry sky, he fell silent for a moment. “I’ve watched Laney and Zach nearly miss out on their miracle. And, man,” he shook his head, “that was hard to watch. But, again, we all tried our best to help them. I think, with Miller and Tate, that was a lot tougher for everyone. Because none of us really knew the story behind everything. But, when it finally came out, when they went through their rough patch, we all banded together.” Lips quirked up and he attempted Kane’s southern drawl. “Helped them lasso in their miracle.”
When he turned his head to look at her, she had the sudden urge to look away. Because his gaze felt as though he could see straight through her, see her insecurities, see how hard she struggled to keep those walls of hers intact so as to not be hurt again.
Like he could see that he was chipping away at those same walls.
“So,” he began with a grin, “my ten thousand words or less answer is yes. I believe in miracles, Lee.” He linked his fingers through hers. “I believe in miracles—there’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” He paused, expression sober, as his thumb caressed her hand. His next words, spoken so softly and with such reverence, were ones she knew she would never forget.
“Just like there’s not a single doubt in my mind that you’re mine.”
Lawson pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss before returning his attention to the sky. They laid in silence, holding hands, that thumb of his grazing hers in soft, languid strokes. When she began to drift off to sleep, she felt him pull the cover of the sleeping bag over her as the temperature became cooler, felt him press a kiss to her forehead and whisper, “Goodnight, Lee,” a thought flitted through her mind.
Lawson Briggs might just be her very own miracle, too.
C
HAPTER EIGHTEEN
Allen’s law: Nearly everything is easier to get into than out of.
Langley’s take: I feel like that is currently my life’s mantra.
~
“SO, WHAT’S THE GOOD WORD?”
Lawson looked up from where he was using sticky notes to mark pages in the reading textbook for the substitute the following day, watching as Pearce entered his classroom. He had been trying to prepare everything since he was scheduled to attend a workshop in downtown Jacksonville for all of the designated Lead Reading teachers. They were required to attend the training once every month.
“The good word is I’m super stoked to go to this training tomorrow,” he told Pearce, deadpanned expression upon his face.
His friend chuckled. “I feel your pain, man. Especially from what you told me about the last few sessions.”
“The fact that I had to actually teach the instructor something, which should be a staple for all reading teachers, is ridiculous. That combined with her continuing to mispronounce the word ‘genre’?” He rolled his eyes. “Tortuous doesn’t cover it. I catch up on grading and anything else during most of the workshop.”
“Who puts these people in charge? Especially when there’s more qualified, more knowledgeable individuals?” Pearce shook his head with disgust.
“I know, dude. Trust me. You’re preachin’ to the choir.” He stacked the final item on the pile for the substitute the following day. “I’m just grateful it’s the last session for the year.”
“Only a few mo
re weeks of school. Can’t believe it.” Pearce slumped into a chair.
“I know, right? Can’t believe May will be here soon.” He grabbed his keys and sunglasses from his desk drawer, looking over at his friend. “You getting ready to head out?”
“Yeah, man. I’ve got to head out for a run.” Groaning slightly, his friend shook his head, standing before he pushed in his chair. “I don’t feel like it, but I ate so much at Miller and Tate’s wedding last weekend that I still feel like a fatty.”
“Yeah, I pretty much OD’ed on cake.” He let out a dreamy sigh at the memory of the delicious chocolate cake as he and Pearce walked over to the classroom door.
His friend laughed. “Seriously, Laws. You’re the only person I know who actually carries a plastic fork on them.”
He gave a nonchalant shrug. “I like to be ready. You know. In case chocolate cake happens.”
Shaking his head with a smile, Pearce clasped a hand on his shoulder. “Never change, man. Never change.”
“As if.” He winked, running a hand down his chest. “The world would mourn if I ceased being this awesome.”
With a slap on his back, Pearce said, “On that note, I’ve got to get my stuff. See you in a minute.”
Pearce exited his classroom and Lawson turned to lock his door, about to head over to catch up with Zach. Walking down the hallway of the now quiet school, as he neared Zach’s classroom door, he nearly collided with Laney, who was exiting.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” he joked.
“I’m running late. I forgot I’m supposed to head to downtown Jacksonville with the girls to look at some dresses.” Laney smoothed her long, light brown hair over her shoulder.
He acted put out. “And why was I not invited? Those are two of my favorite things.”
