Table of Contents
Prologue
Epilogue
Acknowledgement
Isabella
Colt
The Beauty’s Beast
Excerpt from Saved By the Woodsman
His Promise
Eddie Cleveland
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Copyright © 2018 by Eddie Cleveland
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unedited version of this book was previously release as a three part serial titled Devoted.
Contents
Acknowledgement
Prologue
1. Isabella
2. Colt
3. Isabella
4. Colt
5. Colt
6. Isabella
7. Isabella
8. Colt
9. Isabella
10. Isabella
11. Isabella
12. Colt
13. Isabella
14. Colt
15. Colt
16. Isabella
17. Colt
18. Isabella
19. Isabella
20. Isabella
21. Isabella
22. Colt
23. Isabella
24. Isabella
25. Colt
26. Colt
27. Isabella
28. Isabella
29. Colt
30. Isabella
31. Colt
32. Isabella
33. Isabella
34. Isabella
35. Colt
36. Colt
37. Isabella
38. Colt
39. Isabella
40. Colt
41. Isabella
42. Colt
43. Colt
44. Isabella
45. Isabella
46. Isabella
47. Colt
48. Isabella
49. Colt
50. Isabella
Epilogue
The Beauty’s Beast
Excerpt from Saved By the Woodsman
His Promise was edited by Lawrence Editing
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Prologue
Two years earlier — Isabella
I have no business being here. I’m a waitress at a greasy spoon, not the kind of woman who dresses up for events like this one.
I look over at my best friend and her fiancé. They are the reason I feel like a fish out of water. Although maybe a fish would have more knowledge about the art hanging from the walls of the Guggenheim than I do. I feel like a tourist, not a guest. I want to take pictures of the white, circular staircase forming a tunnel to the spiderweb skylight several stories overhead. I’ve lived in New York my entire life and never stepped foot in here before. I’m amazed by nature’s artwork being showcased by the large glass window as a tapestry of stars shines down on us.
When Julia invited me, waiters and waitresses offering up champagne flutes while people shuffle around in suits and gowns wasn’t what I thought of when she told me her man was retiring and announcing the new head of his organization. The Families of Fallen Heroes is for spouses and children of people who died while serving their country. I expected some blue-collar fun. I’m no event organizer, but when I think of America’s fallen wounded, I think of something more down to earth. Like maybe a barbecue dinner with some cold brewskies at a ball field. Definitely not this over-the-top, opulent gala.
“I’ve got to go shake some hands,” Parker whispers to Julia and kisses the tip of her nose. I try not to notice. I try not to be jealous of the love she’s found.
Everything is falling into place for her. She’ll be graduating with her master’s soon and she found a man. Meanwhile, I’m single and slinging burgers at a diner. Even though we’ve been best friends our whole lives, there’s a lifetime of experience between us now. Somehow, on the road of life we’d always traveled together, Julia had a different map. Before I knew it, she was pursuing her grown-up life while I stalled out in the same patch of highway I traveled when I was in high school.
Julia and I make our way to an empty spot in front of a large oil painting. We stare at the extremely realistic-looking deer eating at a cartoonish-looking McDonald’s, surrounded by human patrons who don’t seem to be bothered by his company.
“You know what? I don’t even want to know what this is about.” I turn my hand up toward the imposing piece.
“I’m guessing it’s some kind of anti-consumerist message,” she answers.
“Can I interest either of you in a glass of wine?” A maître d’ holding a large platter of tall-stemmed glasses appears by our side.
Finally something about this night I can get behind!
“Yes, that would be lovely. I’ll have white, please.”
The gentleman nods, handing me the wine I requested.
“Oh, no, thank you, I’m not drinking tonight.” She smiles, her lips pressed tight together.
No big surprise there. With all her hard work and focus on getting through school, she rarely has time for fun.
“Very well.” He turns to find other attendees with a thirst to quench.
I push the shadows of doubt free from my thoughts and focus on the here and now. And if the here and now means looking at a painting of a deer in a McDonald’s, then so be it. At least we’re here together.
“Stunning, isn’t it?” A gorgeous man with hazel eyes nods toward the painting while standing unnaturally close. Not that I’m complaining. His musk swirls around me like a spell that his smile completes as I breathe him in.
“I don’t think I’d call it that.” I try to keep my cool and not imagine his muscular frame pressed close to mine. I refrain from pulling his scent into my lungs like a deep sea diver taking their first breath back up on the surface. I’m failing at all three.
“You’re right. Stunning is too strong a word. It should only be reserved for true beauty, like yours.”
I raise an eyebrow at the line. I’ve heard them all before. It’s the game men play, right? Reel out the line and see what they can catch. I try not to be disappointed that he’s no different. Yet, I can’t help it.
“I’m Colt.” He holds his hand out to me. I shake it and a tingle runs up my arm and over my shoulders, lifting the teeny hairs on the back of my neck.
Damn, that’s quite the handshake. I can’t help but wonder what that electric current coursing through me must feel like when other parts of his body are locked in mine.
“Isabella.” I struggle to share my name. It comes out all breathy, like I ran a marathon.
I disappear into his eyes, still slowly shaking hands like it’s foreplay. Honestly, it feels like it is. Colt finally notices Julia standing next to us. Can she see the fireworks display?
“And you are?” He waits for her to fill in the blanks as he reluctantly releases my hand.
“Julia.”
“Nice to meet you, Julia.” He extends his hand and shakes hers with brusque efficiency before turning his focus back to me.
“Do you live in New York?” He looks at me like whatever my answer is going to be, it will be the most interesting thing he’s heard in his lifetime.
Julia rolls her eyes exaggeratedly behind him, and I smile. Normally I’d be just as cynical as she is. However, there’s something about the look in
his eyes. It’s so genuine. It makes me all but forget his cheesy line from earlier. I want to believe he’s deeper than that.
“My whole life.” My heart beats like a hummingbird’s fluttering wings as he breaks out into a relieved smile. Like any other answer would have crushed him.
At the front of the room, Parker interrupts our moment as he steps up to the mic. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention, please.”
“Oh, it looks like we’re getting started.” Colt looks over. “Please excuse me, Isabella. I just have to go make a quick speech, but I’ll look for you afterward.”
“I’ll be around,” I respond nonchalantly. I don’t want the desire burning up in my belly to infuse my voice.
Colt strides across the room like he’s trying not to run, until he catches up with Parker at the podium. Wait, is he the new manager of Parker’s organization? As in, this entire event is for him?
“Excuse me,” Parker speaks into the microphone, “if I could just have a moment of everyone’s time, please.”
The crowd begins to shuffle toward the men. Grabbing Julia’s hand, I head over with her in tow. We find a place on the periphery of the group, and I keep hoping Colt will see me, but if he has, I’ve seen no indication.
Flashes from the reporters’ cameras momentarily bleach out the men’s faces as Parker waits for the crowd to quiet down.
“Thank you, I’ll try to keep this short, I promise. I’d like to welcome everyone to our event this evening. As you all know, the time has come in my life when I’ve decided to step back from the overwhelming support and success the The Families of Fallen Heroes organization has been blessed to receive. When I started this journey over ten years ago, I hoped and prayed it would help some of the family members of men and women who lost their lives in battle. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to become a nationwide success and receive the outpouring of funding and support we’ve been extended.”
More lightbulbs flash as reporters take pictures of the two handsome men on the podium.
Parker clears his throat and continues, “There is no better man to take over this job than the one standing next to me now. As a former Navy SEAL and someone who has dedicated his life to helping our veterans, I’m confident this organization is in strong, capable hands.”
Navy SEAL? I let my gaze lick his body from head to toe, impressed with his looks. My eyes pause on his ‘strong’ and ‘capable’ hands as I imagine them lifting me onto the bed. I shake my head. Focus, Isabella!
Parker shakes Colt’s hand as people take pictures. Then they switch places at the microphone, and Colt leans in to speak.
“Thank you. Everyone, before I say anything, let’s give a round of applause to Mr. McGregor! Without his vision and tireless work, countless families of fallen heroes would not have the support they’ve needed.” He steps back and claps as he looks over at the man passing him the torch, and the crowd erupts in applause.
Once the clapping dies down, I watch closely as Colt speaks into the mic.
“As many of you know, this organization is very dear to my heart. Thank you all for coming out over the years to show your support. Tonight, I’m surrounded by familiar faces, and by some I’d still love to get to know.”
My heart whooshes in my ears.
“It’s always a big change when the head of an organization retires. However, I want to let everyone know I will do my very best to fulfill the vision Mr. McGregor has had for The Families of Fallen Heroes. And you can be assured that, while Parker won’t be working at the organization anymore, his presence and his guidance will never be far. Thank you for this opportunity. I can’t wait to get to work.” He smiles and steps away from the microphone.
I watch him skim the audience until his eyes lock on mine, and I’m rooted to the spot like his gaze alone is holding me. My heartbeat quickens and my breathing grows shallow as he makes his way over to me. However, the mob of reporters and well-wishers swallows him whole, wrestling him from my sight.
“Oh no.” Julia grabs my arm and sways slightly at my side. I study her blanched face.
“I think I ate something that isn’t agreeing with me. Can you get us a cab? I’m going to tell Parker we’ve got to get out of here. I don’t think I can hold it down much longer.”
“Of course,” I answer and watch her make her way over to her fiancé. I scan the busy room for Colt, but I don’t see him.
Oh well, some things are just not meant to be. Even when they feel like they were handpicked and gently placed in our path by fate. I try not to let the disappointment cover me like a blanket, instead heading out the door, sad to know, in my heart, that I’ll never see Colt again.
1
Isabella
“Couldn’t you find something more appropriate to wear? You’re in God’s house, young lady,” Pastor John, or Dad as I call him, hisses at me as we set up for the dress rehearsal.
Looking down over my outfit, I think I did pretty well actually. My violet V-neck blouse isn’t too low-cut, and my black skirt kisses my knee. Okay, so maybe the shoes are a bit much. Five-inch heels do feel out of place in a chapel, but they’re just so cute, I had to. Anyway, what does he care? I’m a grown woman, not a child.
Arguing with him won’t get me anywhere. Instead, I stare at the runner on the floor and count the seconds until this wedding rehearsal is finally over so I can go back to seeing my father only twice a year. Christmas and Easter.
“Okay, so does everyone know where they need to stand? Where’s the groom?” Dad sweeps the church for Parker. My father’s gaze stops as he spots him over by a massive stained glass window. The husband and wife-to-be are oblivious to the world around them as they murmur to each other.
“Parker! There’ll be plenty of time for all of that after the run-through. Stand over here, my boy.” He points to the floor in front of him. “Come keep me company up here.” His focus changes to the entire crowd as Parker makes his way over. “All right, let’s do the run-through. The sooner we do this right, the sooner everyone can go home.”
People scurry to follow my father’s directions. Everyone does. There’s something about him that makes people move when he tells them to. Making my way to the back of the church, I’m thankful to have a few minutes away from his overbearing presence. Since I was a kid, I’ve been watching him give sermons and guidance to entire congregations of people who have hung on his every word.
Now, whenever I hear him speak about God’s love and forgiveness I just think about how much of a hypocrite he is. Even though it has been more than eleven years since I’ve lived under his roof, memories of how he kicked me out at seventeen have never faded with the passage of time. The flashback licks a burning trail of pain over my mind.
“John! We can’t kick her out onto the streets!” Mom sobbed while I stood there glaring at my father.
“She isn’t staying here, Shirley, and that’s final!” His voice made the picture frames shake.
Sure enough, she spent the entire night calling her sisters and brothers until Aunt Jill agreed to take me in. The way she tirelessly fought to find me a safe place to stay, I knew Mom didn’t want to see me leave. Too bad she never used any of that energy to fight for what was right with my father. In our house, he laid down the law and we obeyed. She was no exception.
My father casting me aside hurt, but it wasn’t a deep cut. By seventeen, I’d long known we would never see eye-to-eye. However, when Mom watched me pack my things, it turned all of my sadness into rage. I’d never understand how any mother could sit in silence and watch their child be cast away, yet that was exactly what she did.
Refusing to utter a word to either of them, I packed my bags and waited on the front porch for the station wagon with the wood panel veneer down the side to come pick me up. Mom never gave me a hug goodbye. My father refused to look at me. I just slipped into the car and didn’t even watch as their house grew smaller in the passenger seat mirror.
I didn�
�t look back then, and I’m not going to waste my time looking back now.
Giving my head a shake, I focus on the cute blond man with gray eyes holding his arm out to me so we can make our way down the aisle.
Walking down the aisle, I avoid my father’s disapproving stare and instead focus on the speech I have to give in a few nights. As Julia’s maid of honor, I have to sum her up in a sweet, funny, and touching way. The truth is, I still have no idea what to say. Not because she isn’t sweet and funny, but because writing this speech is like I’m writing the final chapter on our friendship and I’m not ready to close the book yet.
Taking my place on the left side of the altar, I watch as the bridesmaids make their way down the aisle. I need a cigarette. Please don’t let Dad blather on and on tonight. Sometimes I think the real reason that man joined the church is because he loves the sound of his voice filling a room. Having people stuck in their seats, unable to get away from him was just a bonus.
I know that’s not true. My father’s passionate sermons pop into my head. Back when I was still in his good graces, I used to watch him practice them in a full-length mirror. Back then, I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. Now that I have, we couldn’t be farther apart. Glancing over at him, I’m relieved his focus is on Julia making her way down the aisle instead of my apparently scandalous clothes. It’s always better when we each do what we both do best: ignore each other.
His Promise Page 1
