Holiday Spice

by Samantha Chase

“I mean, don’t get me wrong. This is great. The dinner, the dancing, this dress on you…it’s all very nice.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Nice?”

  Ben seemed to ignore her shocked expression. “Mmm-hmm. It is. But maybe it’s not…let’s just say that maybe I can think of a better way to start the new year.”

  “I swear, if you say that it would be better to be naked right now, I’m going to slug you,” she said with just a hint of snark.

  He laughed softly and kissed the tip of her nose. “No. But that would be nice too.”

  “Ben—”

  He took a step back and looked at her. “Darcy Shaughnessy, you were the first person who really understood me. You understood my work. You accepted me. I love working with you. I love playing with you. And I especially love loving you.”

  Her heart began to pound, because this was beginning to sound like a whole lot more than just romantic conversation during a dance.

  “You are my hope, you are my muse, you are my life. When I think of my future now, there isn’t one minute of it where I don’t see you by my side.”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded. “I feel that way too.”

  His smile was slow and sweet, and when he reached out and ran one rough finger along her cheek, she couldn’t help but sigh.

  “There is nothing I want more in this world than to spend every day of my life with you.”

  And just as she was about to respond, he dropped to one knee in front of her and pulled a ring from his pocket. Holding it up to her, he took her hand in his. “Promise to always be by my side. Promise to love me when I’m unlovable and to accept me when I make mistakes. Promise to laugh with me, smile with me, and dance with me forever.” He paused, and as his dark gaze held hers, he slipped the ring onto her finger. “Marry me, Darcy, and promise me we’ll have our perfect forever.”

  Nodding, she felt the sting of tears and didn’t care. When Ben stood and kissed her, she tasted him along with the tears that she couldn’t hold back.

  And it was okay.

  Because they were the best kind of tears—the ones that were happy and shed for all the right reasons.

  And knowing that she was going to have her perfect forever with Ben?

  It was the best reason.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  It was a beautiful summer day. Some people would say the weather was perfect.

  Ian Shaughnessy was one of those people.

  As he made his way across the lawn, he felt something he’d never felt before on this particular trip.

  Peace.

  Stopping at the seventh headstone, he paused. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped away the dust and pollen that coated the marble, and then removed the old flowers someone had placed there probably a week or so earlier. Once the area was neat and clean, he took the bouquet he’d brought with him and placed it in the holder.

  “She was the most beautiful bride,” he said quietly. “I’m telling you, Lily, when she turned around and faced me for the first time after she put your gown on, I swore it was forty years ago, and I was looking at you.” He paused and let that imagery fill his mind and smiled. “Of course, she wasn’t as calm as you were. Nope. Our girl is a bundle of energy at all times, and if I find out who let her have coffee yesterday morning, I’m going to smack them in the head.”

  He chuckled, and for a moment, he swore he heard Lily’s laugh too.

  “I knew this day would come,” he went on. “Eventually. I’ve known for a long time that Darcy was a grown woman, but something about seeing her in a wedding gown—your wedding gown—made it seem like it was only yesterday that we were bringing her home from the hospital. Where did the time go?” He shook his head.

  A flock of birds flew noisily overhead. Several cars drove down the lane on their way to visit loved ones as well.

  “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. We’re expecting more babies.” He chuckled. “I’m telling you, I wish these kids of ours would time these things a little bit better. I swear, it seems like they’re either having babies one right after the other or several at once.” He shook his head again and tried to see if he could get them all straight.

  “Hugh and Aubrey started the process to adopt. After consulting with all her doctors, they decided it wouldn’t be the best thing for Aubrey to try to get pregnant again. They also didn’t want Connor to be an only child.” He laughed again. “Although between that boy and the three dogs that they treat like children, I don’t see how they can possibly handle any more than that.

  “Aidan and Zoe just found out that they are expecting, and I think they’re also going to have their hands full. No dogs, but your namesake is a handful. Always into mischief, that one. But, oh, Lily, is she beautiful. I’m telling you, there is nothing that sweet girl can’t get from me when she looks at me with those big blue eyes. She has Aidan wrapped around her little finger too, so I don’t think she’s going to give up the throne so easily.”

  There were some stray weeds around the base of the headstone, and he crouched to pull them as he continued his one-sided conversation.

  “Oh, Anna and Quinn are expecting as well. They are due about a week after Aidan and Zoe. The girls are tickled about that, of course. Quinn’s already a nervous wreck and demanding that they have a son this time because he wants his Little League team. Not that Kaitlyn can’t play baseball, as we all reminded him.” He laughed softly. “I think it would be hysterical if he ended up with an all-girls team. Can you imagine?”

  A gentle breeze blew around him, and he took that to be her laughing with him.

  “Lily, I’m telling you, the most amazing thing I think I’ve seen through all this—watching our kids become parents—is Owen. Well, first let me say Riley and Savannah are doing well, and Aislynn is a little angel, and they’re trying to get pregnant again but nothing’s happened yet. Savannah’s anxious for Riley to get on the road or in the studio so he’ll get off this baby kick. Riley’s such a great father, and he’s so confident, not that I expected anything else from him. He’s always been confident. But back to Owen.”

  Picking up the weeds, he placed them off to the side to take with him when he left.

  “When Brooke found out they were having twins, I swear to you we all thought Owen was going to freak out. But he never did. And now that the boys are mobile and running around, he and Brooke are talking about trying to get pregnant again too. It’s crazy! Our little boy who was afraid of his own shadow and didn’t want to be around people is hoping for a large family!”

  Sighing, he fiddled with the bouquet.

  “And then there’s our baby girl. Oh, Lily, what I wouldn’t give for you to see her. She wanted to bring these flowers here herself, but she and Ben had an early morning flight. They’re going to Hawaii. She was so excited about it—I think she talked more about the trip than she did about the wedding,” he said with a laugh. “She was the most low-maintenance bride out of the group, and that’s saying something! But it was important to her for you to have her bouquet.” Reaching out, he touched one of the flowers and rubbed it between his fingers.

  A lily.

  Clearing his throat, he felt the telltale swell of emotion coming when it was time to leave.

  “We did something right, Lily. We were two kids in love who spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to be good parents. It looks like we succeeded, because we have some amazing kids who grew up to be incredible adults, and now they’re all happily married with families of their own.” He paused. “I know, I know, Darcy got married less than twenty-four hours ago, but trust me. She and Ben will be starting a family soon. I know it. She’s already talking about it. I can’t even let myself imagine that day. It was too hard walking her down the aisle and knowing she’s not my little girl anymore. Well, she’ll always be my little girl, but you know what I mean.”
>
  Ian crouched one last time, picked up the weeds he’d put to the side, and held them in his hands.

  “I miss you every single day,” he said softly, placing a hand on the cool marble. “Every. Single. Day. It wasn’t easy to let go of you and ask Martha to marry me. I love her, and she’s wonderful, but it didn’t seem right—or fair—that I got to be happy and find love again. I wish like hell it was you who was here. You’d be so much better at all of this than I am. If we’re being honest, I wish it was us here together like we’d always planned.”

  Smoothing his hand one last time over the stone, Ian took a step back. “I love you, Lillian Shaughnessy. And thank you for giving me six of the greatest gifts a man could ever ask for.” He smiled sadly. “I’ll see you next week.”

  And as he walked away, he looked up at the clear blue sky and felt almost as if he could see all the way to heaven. Sometimes, he wished he could.

  But sometimes, you had to have faith that those who were watching over you knew how much they were loved.

  And missed.

  And all the ways just having them for a short time made your life better.

  For more Samantha Chase check out the

  Shaughnessy Brothers: Band on the Run series

  One More Promise

  On sale February 2018

  Keep reading for a sneak peek of

  One More Promise

  by Samantha Chase

  Prologue

  It was one of the most luxurious rooms he had ever stayed in, and yet it was beyond unappealing. It wasn’t a comfort—it was a prison.

  Even if it did come with Egyptian cotton sheets.

  Dylan Anders paced the living space, counting each step. He’d gotten in the habit of pacing over the last eighty-nine days. It was a way of making him focus on something other than the hell he was living in. Okay, maybe hell was a bit strong, but…this wasn’t the life he wanted to be living.

  But it was the life he had screwed himself into.

  By being stupid.

  By being selfish.

  By…simply being.

  A soft knock on the door had him stopping and waiting. He knew who was coming and although it offered some comfort, it also brought on a fresh wave of anxiety.

  What if I mess up?

  What if I fail again?

  The door opened and in walked his parents—both with huge smiles on their faces. His mother walked toward him carrying a covered plate, which Dylan was certain contained his favorite dessert—chocolate chip pound cake. His father was a few steps behind her carrying a piece of luggage.

  Wait…luggage? What?

  Carol Anders stood all of five feet tall, and as she reached up and cupped Dylan’s face in her hands—while standing on her tiptoes—her smile was one of pure love. There was nothing Dylan wanted more than to keep that smile on her face.

  “One more day,” she said in a fierce whisper. “One more day and you’ll be free to come home.”

  Free? Somehow Dylan doubted that. He might not be stuck in the rehab facility, but that didn’t mean he was well and truly free. The actions that led him to being admitted here were never going to leave him. And he didn’t want them to. No. It was important for him to remember how far he had spiraled out of control and how much those actions had cost him. The only saving grace—if he had to find one—was that he hadn’t killed anyone.

  But it had been close.

  Tomorrow, he’d finish his required ninety days in rehab and be let loose upon society again. And yet, he didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted.

  After a few silent moments, he nodded toward the suitcase at his father’s side. “What’s with the suitcase?”

  Steven Anders smiled. “When you arrived here, your clothes were shoved into a ripped-up duffel bag. We thought it might be nice to leave here and celebrate your fresh start with fresh luggage.”

  Dylan couldn’t help but chuckle. Leave it to his parents to think all he needed to get started on this new life was a new suitcase. Not that it was wrong—it was incredibly sweet of them—but it wasn’t how he tended to view things. His view was a tad bit darker. Sometimes there wasn’t a silver lining. Sometimes people made bad choices and bad things happened because of them.

  When he looked up, he saw both of his parents were watching him with the same patient smiles they always had. Sometimes he wished they’d yell at him, curse him, tell him what a disappointment he was.

  But they never did.

  And how twisted was he that he hated it?

  Just once, he wished they’d call him out on his bad behavior and demand that he change his ways. Not that it mattered at the moment. He was changing his ways. And not only because his legal team and manager told him he had to.

  It was because he was ready.

  Sort of.

  For most of his life, Dylan had accepted that this was the way his family was—he screwed up; his parents forgave him. They never really talked about what went wrong or why he did the things he did. As he studied the two people he loved more than anything in the world, he came to a very serious life decision—if he was going to change, then his parents needed to change with him. Maybe it wasn’t going to be comfortable. And maybe it would all blow up in his face. But if there was one thing he had learned through all his therapy sessions, it was that he had to stop hiding from his feelings. That meant no hiding out in a bottle of vodka to avoid his fears, disillusions, or just about anything.

  During the last two weeks, his parents had come to his counseling sessions. It was considered helpful for them to do family counseling—mainly because he had initially started drinking because he was trying to get attention.

  This was the first time, however, that he was initiating the conversation on his own—without a counselor present. Part of what he had learned after three months of being in rehab was that he needed to take responsibility for his actions.

  So if ever there was a time to take that step…it was now.

  Taking a steadying breath, Dylan let it out slowly and felt some of the tension leave his body. “Mom? Dad?” he began hesitantly. “It’s going to take a whole lot more than a new suitcase to get me on the right path.”

  * * *

  The next day, as Dylan walked away from the rehab facility that had been his home for the past three months, he felt a lightness he hadn’t felt since he was fifteen years old.

  And he walked away carrying his ratty, old duffel bag.

  Chapter 1

  Dylan prowled around the house feeling restless. His skin felt tight and he was a little jittery.

  And that was how he felt pretty much every night.

  After touring with his band, Shaughnessy, for years and then taking their time off to join other bands on their gigs, it seemed odd to have nothing to do. Not that he missed it. Much. Now he could look back at the last ten years of his life and realize that while he loved playing the bass—loved the music—the lifestyle had damn-near killed him. He’d spent too many years drinking too much and partying too hard and had paid the price. Dealing with a normal, everyday life was something completely foreign to him.

  He was at loose ends and didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself. He’d played chess with his manager earlier, and Mick had hung out for most of the afternoon, but he couldn’t be expected to stay all day and into the night. He was entitled to a life of his own. Except…Dylan kind of resented it. Not Mick. Not exactly. But anyone right now. Right now, everyone he knew was doing something with their lives—having lives—and he wasn’t.

  “Maudlin much?” he murmured, walking through the kitchen on his way to the deck.

  Outside, the night air was cool and the sky was clear. He sat in one of his lounge chairs and stared up at the stars. It was peaceful and relaxing and…beyond boring! No matter how hard he tried, Dylan
knew he wasn’t meant to sit around and lead a quiet and tranquil life. Of course, that didn’t mean he had to resort to drinking or getting high, but he certainly needed more than this.

  He was holding himself back. He knew that. Right now, he still felt a little fragile, like any small step back into the life he knew with the people he used to hang out with would lead to a relapse.

  And he refused to relapse.

  Again.

  There had been a night not long after he’d come home—he’d gone out with his ex for dinner. Heather had called him up out of the blue and offered him a night out, no strings attached. After months of no sex, he had eagerly jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, the night had been a complete disaster. Without alcohol fueling their time together, Dylan had felt awkward and uncomfortable. Heather, oblivious to his struggles, had ordered herself drink after drink, and by the time they’d finished dinner, he was more than a little turned off by her behavior.

  They’d gone to her place and even though his brain was saying yes, his body had no desire to take things any further—funny, he’d always imagined it would be the other way around. Regardless, Heather had not taken the rejection kindly and had screamed all kinds of profanities at him while taking direct aim at his masculinity.

  When he’d gotten home, he’d managed to find one well-hidden bottle of vodka.

  The morning after hadn’t been pretty.

  Actually, the end of the bottle hadn’t been pretty.

  And now—because of that—he was afraid to get near the temptation. Maybe eventually he’d feel strong enough, but for right now, Dylan knew he wasn’t. So where did that leave him? He couldn’t keep living in isolation and he couldn’t exactly go back to his old haunts.

  With a muttered curse, he got up again and walked into the house. Closing the French doors behind him, he stalked into the living room and spotted the folder on the coffee table beside the chessboard—the literacy campaign information Mick had brought over earlier.