Forever, Please (Please #4)

by Willow Summers

  “No, Kimmie, I’m fine. We have the caterers—I was just bringing this out since I was on my way. Trisha will probably scold me for it.”

  “Hey, baby,” Hunter said as he slipped his hand around my waist.

  I leaned into his warmth. It was sunny, but it wasn’t summer. There was still a decided chill to the air, and Hunter’s heat cut right through it. I angled my face up. He bent to plant a soft kiss on my lips. Together we watched my mom slowly saunter behind Brandon with a glass of wine in her hand.

  “I cannot believe he’s walking already,” Kimberly said. As she said it, Brandon tumbled in a heap of little legs and arms. Undeterred, he started crawling across the grass. My mom kept stride.

  “Livy, honey…” Trisha, the real organizer of this party, walked up to us. “It’s time to cut the cake. I’ve started to gather everyone.” She gestured toward the far table where the face painter was moving out of the way.

  We followed her over, moving to stand beside Bert’s huge girth. I didn’t get to see him much anymore because we didn’t have a commute with our office being our laptops, and we weren’t in the city much. Our company was going strong—stronger than even Hunter had anticipated. We were bringing in large amounts of money, had a solid fan base, and kept producing games that ranked high and had great reviews. We’d just launched our first “world,” where people could compete across country lines. So far, so good.

  Hunter had kept his promise. He worked less than forty hours, and spent all the time he could with his son. He was every bit the great dad he wanted to be, kind and patient, and always loving. While he might keep the world at bay, he never distanced himself from Brandon or me. He doled out plenty of hugs, kisses, and I-love-yous.

  “Where’s the birthday boy?” Bert bent down to his wife, a short, petite little thing that defied logic when it came to match-ups. She pointed to the grass where my mother was trying to wrangle a crying baby. It wasn’t easy with the glass of wine.

  “Oh shoot,” I said, starting off in that direction.

  “I’ll get him!” Bert jogged over, bending down to scoop him up. Brandon squealed with laughter as Bert held him out like an airplane, flying through the sky.

  “Let’s get that cake divided up. Looks delicious.” Brenda sipped a glass of red wine. I didn’t realize she drank anything other than coffee.

  Bert handed Brandon to Hunter, and I took a moment to marvel how alike the two were. Brandon was the spitting image of his daddy, except his eyes were lighter like mine. There could be absolutely no doubt whose son he was.

  I smiled and snuggled into them. Hunter hefted Brandon into one arm, and encircled me with the other, while the caterers finished setting up.

  We’d had a large package delivered that morning from an anonymous source. Within the package was a giant bundle of toys, and an account in Brandon’s name with a hundred thousand dollars in it, due when Brandon turned eighteen. The postmark was two miles away from Rodge’s house. The account was set up by Rodge’s office. He might not have gotten along with his son, but Rodge was trying to take care of his grandson. There was no way I’d allow the man access to my kid, but it had to be acknowledged that he was doing right by Brandon.

  I closed my eyes for a moment of bliss as a swell of love filled me. That first yes had changed my life. Looking back, there were moments of pain, and some of sorrow, but I wouldn’t change one single thing from the first moment I met Hunter. How it all worked out was perfection.

  The End

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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  Synopsis:

  Sara thought she had it all, but when her life turns upside-down, she does the only thing she can think of: pack up and follow a childhood dream. She takes a job on a dude ranch in rural Montana hoping to pick up the pieces.

  She never thought she’d see him again.

  Mike Frost is all grown up. 6’2” of solid muscle, he’s the best friend from her youth, and the man every woman wants. With a list of successes a mile long, Mike has it all…

  Except for the one that got away.

  Sometimes you have to start over to find your happily ever after.

  Excerpt:

  “Trust me, those two classes will seem like five! Oh my God…” Christie’s fingers wrapped around Sara’s wrist. “Don’t freak out!”

  Sara started and looked up quickly, expecting some sort of emergency. Instead, her gaze met a wide expanse of muscular shoulder. “Why? What’s happenin—”

  “Hi, Mike,” Christie said, yanking on Sara’s wrist to make her step closer.

  In confusion, Sara tilted her face upward and met that spun-honey gaze she’d seen a moment ago.

  “How are you?” Christie asked.

  The fingertips digging holes in Sara’s arm were starting to hurt.

  Mike’s gaze flicked toward Christie. He nodded before his focus settled back on Sara a moment later. “Sara Michaels, right?”

  “Um, yes?” she answered hesitantly.

  He stared expectantly.

  Her eyebrows rose slowly. Was she supposed to recognize him, somehow?

  Taking his extended pause as a yes, she scanned his vaguely familiar face. High cheekbones and a narrow nose adorned his handsome appearance. The color of his eyes was even more spectacular up close, with bursts of browns, hazel, and flecks of green wrapped in lush black lashes. Completing the tableau was a strange sort of command in his bearing—dominance, almost—with a hint of arrogance that often came from a silver spoon and a lingering case of Huge-Bank-Account-Itis.

  She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think I know you…”

  “I’m Mikey Frost,” he said. “Jack’s son. We grew up together…”

  Her brow furrowed as she made sense of those names.

  “Mikey Frost…” she whispered, calling up the face of the boy in the back of his parents’ car, waving as he drove away.

  She looked at the man in front of her again, struggling to wipe away the haze of memory. With difficulty, she placed the handsome, chiseled face over that of the pudgy boy’s from her memories. Those same eyes looked at her.

  A thrill ran through her. “No way,” she breathed. Emotions, long forgotten, bubbled up out of nowhere. Butterflies filled her stomach.

  “No freaking way,” she said, louder. The world spun around her as joy blossomed.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God!” she screamed. Like a teenager, she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Holy heck, Mikey!”

  She stepped back so she could see his face. “I haven’t seen you in… Jesus, how long has it been?”

  His lips quirked as he scrutinized her. “A long time. Years and years.”

  “Not since you moved to—where was it? New Jersey?”

  “Connecticut.”

  “Right! This is so nuts.” She slapped his arm, and then hugged him again.

  “How are you?” he asked, his eyes delving into her.

  She sighed into her smile, recalling the profound feeling of a friendship so deep it could be called family. Emotion moved within her as she processed this face out of her past.

  “Wow! I just—it’s just so good to see you. We should have kept in touch.”

  “We were fourteen—well, I was fourteen. You were, what, twelve when I left?”

  “Eleven,” she said. “Still, I don’t know. You were like my brother. I missed you. I can’t
believe you’re here! What a crazy coincidence.”

  “Sara, we should go…” Christie was staring after two larger women moving off toward the house.

  Mikey followed her gaze and nodded. “Christie’s right. Ethel and Florence won’t treat you well if you’re late.” His eyes once again settled on her face. “I’ll catch up with you at the fire pit. We’re staying in the area tonight, so I’ll be around.”

  He took a step back to let her go.

  “Wait!” She lurched forward, clutching his arm. The memory of him, of their youth, tugged at her. Made her want to attach herself to him like she used to.

  “I mean, obviously, yes. I need to go. But…” Sara shook her head, embarrassment creeping up at her actions. “I mean…”

  He gave her a small smile. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” He smoothed her hair from her face. “I’m not leaving forever—never was, remember? I told you I’d see you again. And look, here I am. Magical.”

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  Synopsis:

  On the tail end of another heartache, Jessica decides she’s had enough. Enough parties, enough mistakes, and enough of this rut she’s thrown herself into. She leaves L.A. for a job in Texas to wipe the slate clean.

  If only it were that easy.

  Not one night in Texas and she meets the most ruggedly handsome cowboy she’s ever seen. William Davies has it all: wealth, prestige, and any woman he wants. He’s way out of her league.

  But he’s never met a sassy girl like her before.

  Sparks fly as opposites attract in this laugh out loud romance.

  Excerpt:

  I pulled into the parking lot of something called the Piggly Wiggly. As my car rolled toward the large, boxy store, I got a moment of indecision. I could literally park anywhere. Up close, further away, down the block–anywhere! I hadn’t seen this much parking since I showed up to school on a holiday without knowing it.

  Spoiled, I chose one near the door. Why not, right? I didn’t need to walk if I didn’t want to. Or fight for any spaces. What a luxury!

  Halfway to the entrance I realized I forgot my list. I stopped dead and tilted my head up, trying to remember when I’d last had it … Wait, I should have it … Somewhere…

  Lifting my bag away from my shoulder with one strap, I dove to the bottom, fishing out a small, crinkled list. As I rummaged, feeling like the bag was swallowing my arm, I heard a deep male baritone say, “Ma’am.”

  One, not being familiar with that phrase, and two, wondering if someone was talking to me, which was very un-L.A., and hence, very strange for me, I gave a quick questioning glance in the speaker’s direction. I met a plaid chest. Obviously a little closer than I thought.

  I still had my hand stuck at the bottom of my over-sized, over-filled handbag, walking lop-sided with no real perspective on where I was in relation to the door, when I looked up and met two deep blue eyes in the most breathtakingly, ruggedly handsome face I had ever seen. Watch out Marlboro man, you ain’t got nothin’ on this cowboy!

  His blue eyes caught my focus and drew me, holding me prisoner in a place where time did not exist. As I fell in, lost, I felt many things happen at once. My skin erupted in goose pimples as a shiver crawled down my back. My head went light, giving me the distinct feeling I was floating. Thank goodness, because my legs wobbled, not sure if I had control over my knees anymore. Topping it off, a suddenly warm, wet sensation pooled in my groin that craved sudden and fervid contact.

  I think I muttered something. I really think I heard my voice, but I was too consumed with his eyes, and the burning taking over my body, to be sure. I think I kept walking, but when you lose the feeling in your legs, it’s anybody’s guess.

  The slide of the electronic door right in front of me fed an alarm through my brain, but too late. My foot caught the end and jerked my whole body. My purse went flying, the items in it splashing the cement. Limbs flapping, I tried to maintain balance only to wildly stumble and bodily greet the display of large children’s balls. The flimsy white cage couldn’t compete with my a-bit-more-than-average (ahem) weight. It bent madly, the hole for extracting balls gaping. Florescent spheres gushed out everywhere, the balls sensing freedom and going for it.

  “Oh crap!” My stumble, which had started with the door, and continued through the ball stand, took me to a painful slide on my knees.

  No time to lose!

  I was up like a pogo stick, running madly after pretty little balls dotting the outside entryway of the store.

  “Who puts displays by the door?” I muttered in extreme embarrassment regardless of the fact that displays were standard the world over.

  Why me?

  As I captured two strangely hard to hold on to balls, the first staff member rushed out of the door.

  “Is everyone all right?” It was a young kid with concern written across his face.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I gushed, dumping the balls in the cage and wrestling with the opening so they wouldn’t just come rolling out again.

  Seriously, why me?

  Another staff member came bustling out, a portly woman with a fantastic bee-hive. Her gaze swept the area, landing on me. My stomach tightened up as I stood in the wake of a self-made natural disaster.

  Hurricane Jessica.

  “I’m so sorry! I’m really sorry!” I bleated.

  I braced myself for the rant. For the store owner to barge out, yelling about the mess. Threatening me with a counter-suit if I even dared think of a lawyer. He would chase me out of the store, my backside a welcome sight in the wake of the mess. I would then go to the next grocery store where I wouldn’t be known for disturbing the peace.

  Only problem was, I wasn’t in L.A., and I had no idea where another shop was. They weren’t on every corner in this neck of the woods.

  Beehive-lady clutched my arm as I stooped for more balls. “Don’t worry yourself none.” She escorted me to the side as the young guy went about straightening the ball cage. Her eyes glanced over my body and lingered on my knees, a small tear marring my jeans. “You alright? You hurt yourself?”

  “Oh no, no no! I’m okay. Seriously. Just wasn’t paying attention.” I brushed my bruised knees in an effort to wipe off the scuffs.

  “Here, come over here and have a seat. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  She gestured me to a wood bench next to a small flower display. In shock, I took two steps, carried away by her concern. It took logic to still my feet.

  Why the hell wasn’t she mad? I’d just rumbled through and blasted a stand of kids’ balls!

  That sounded wrong.

  The brown haired guy was picking up the balls now, but making quick, worried glances in my direction. He wore the same mask of alarm, probably worried I’d set fire to the place next, or something else equally outlandish. No telling what I was capable of, really.

  I needed to fast forward this scene. My embarrassment was out of hand.

  “No, no. Oh my God, really, I’m fine. I’m just clumsy and totally ridiculous! I have no idea what happened. Sorry for the mess! Really!”

  My eye scoured the ground. Where the hell was my damn purse? I had taken the tumble in the doorway, but it wasn’t there. That brown-haired staff member was more than halfway done corralling balls, uncovering nothing on the walk-way.

  “You don’t worry yourself about no mess,” Beehive-Lady said with her hand on my back, trying to get me to the bench. “Ronnie will have that dealt with in a jiffy. C’mon’ere and have a seat. You sure you’re not hurt?”

  “Oh, ha! No,” I said distractedly, frantically searching for my bag and its contents. “I’m good, seriously. Just so sorry for the mess!”

  I took a step around Beehive-Lady, scanning the sidewalk, when the Greek God Apollo himself stepped up with my handbag in hand, a devastatingly handsome
half-smile filled with mischief lighting up his face. His blue eyes caught and held me, that weird heat returning to my body.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.” He tried for a concerned look after a quick glance at Ronnie and Beehive-Lady, but only managed a handsome farcical look instead. “I’m sorry to have startled you. I believe this is yours?” He reached out with my purse.

  Must-pull-eyes-away.

  God he was so beautiful.

  NO! PULL-EYES-AWAY!

  I managed to look down at my purse long enough to get my hand on it. It was bigger and fuller than I was used to, because I shoved a bunch of little bits in there when I was moving, and Apollo must’ve had muscles of steel to make the weight seem nonexistent, so when I thought I had hold of it, it plummeted toward the ground.

  In his eagerness to help me, Mr. Apollo took a big step toward me, snatching the bag with lightning fast hands before it could spill onto the floor. I was acutely aware of his musty man smell. It wasn’t a clean, fresh out of the shower smell, but like a man that was working outside all day. Eau d’Homme. Not BO or anything, but pure Man.

  My groin burst into flame. A million points of lava erupted across my skin; the heat of him so close, the smell of him, the man-ness of him. I couldn’t help a tiny moan escaping my lips before he stepped away nonchalantly.

  My God woman, get a grip! This was all going downhill so fast I had skid marks! Literally. I needed to get the hell out of there. Away from him.

  But I didn’t want to.

  But I had to! I looked like a mental patient. No hot guy would want to be ten feet from me.

  But he was so hot!

  But I smelled. I was here to get a toothbrush. I probably peeled his eyebrows off when my breath hit his face.