by Amelia Wilde
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Cece says, dismissing the concern with a wave. “She’ll be stopping by soon.”
I don’t have anything planned, and I only half-believe that Cece could convince her, but I’m not a total fucking idiot. I see this as the last chance it is.
And I don’t have anything.
All I can offer is a little bit of time. The very moment Cece drives away I hustle Minnie into the car and drive over to Norma’s house. It’s the middle of the afternoon, so the timing is weird, but she opens the door with a big smile. “Change your mind about work?”
“It’s more important than work,” I tell her, Minnie already running inside and joining the chorus of kids already playing. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Now I’m a little out of breath, sitting on my own front porch because I ran here from the car.
I don’t know what to do to look casual. I sit down on the wicker furniture, and then stand back up, leaning against the door. That just feels weird, so I sit down again. No. I can’t just be sitting there like an old man when she shows up—if she shows up.
Just when I’m starting to feel like an idiot for even beginning to hope that Valentine will come over, I see a flash of red move toward the middle of her yard.
My body instinctively assumes the most casual, cool position I can think of—leaning against the post of the porch, watching her move across the yard, her hips swaying with the beat of her walk. She’s carrying a plate covered in plastic, and her hair is twisted at the back of her head. It looks wet. I wonder if she’s been swimming.
Valentine catches sight of me watching her before she crosses the road, and I can see the blush spreading up her neck from here. She looks both ways and then crosses, holding the plate carefully level. Nobody can possibly blame me for the fact that in this moment I see her in a white dress, coming down the aisle with a bouquet of wildflowers.
She crosses the yard, not slowing, not speeding up, and comes to a stop a few feet in front of me. Despite everything, despite the stupid argument, despite the late-night dismissal, she bites her lip. I can see her breathing, the curve of her breasts just peeking out from beneath her tank top.
“Hey,” she says. “I have cinnamon rolls.”
47
Valentine
I’m out of clever things to say, and the obvious is all I’m left with, so I say that. I’m too tired and too on the fence to be coy anyway. Thought I’d like to be coy. I’d like to be flirty and sexy as hell in this moment, no matter how this goes.
Ryder straightens up, a half-smile on his face. “I see that. I’m surprised you took the time.”
“Oh, I didn’t.” She laughs. “Cece made them and left them out, with this note.”
“A note?” His eyebrows go up.
“Is Minnie napping?”
He shakes his head. “No, she’s at daycare for a couple of hours.”
“Cool.” I bob my head up and down, knowing even in the moment that I must look the most idiotic I’ve ever looked. It doesn’t help that being this close to him is making me literally hot and bothered. I keep trying to tell myself—and him—that it’s over, but standing here with these cinnamon rolls, it’s clearly not. And it strikes me like a bolt of lightning over the lakeshore: I’m never going to be over Ryder Harrison.
What happened with Conrad, that cut me. It wounded me, but the wound was shallow. I healed it by coming back to Lakewood. I healed it by working at the Short Stack. I healed it by looking into Ryder’s eyes.
When he said those same words, it struck me to the core of my soul.
It just about takes my breath away to realize why.
“Valentine?”
I’ve just been standing here, staring at the cinnamon rolls, as mute as the moment after I sprayed him in the face with that whipped cream. I tear myself away from the swirls of cinnamon and frosting and look up into those blue eyes, blue eyes like the endless sky, and swallow hard.
“Hi,” I say.
“Are we starting all this over?” Ryder is full-on smiling now. He must see the difference in my face. Or maybe he’s just looking at the circles under my eyes. “I can go inside and pretend I wasn’t already out here.”
“I really want to have your baby,” I blurt out.
His eyes go wide, and then he bursts out laughing. I can’t help myself. I laugh so hard that I start to double over, and Ryder leaps into action.
“No, don’t!” he cries, reaching for the plate and lifting it out of my hands. “You’ll crush the rolls.”
He puts the plate in one hand and reaches for me with the other arm, slipping it around me as easily as if there was nothing between us but a too-sexy fling, pulling me in close. I rest my head on his shoulder and laugh until tears come to my eyes.
“No, stop,” I say finally, stepping back. “That’s not how this conversation goes.”
He takes a breath and gets control over his own laughter. “How does it go, then? I kind of thought we were over.”
“It hurt me so much, what you said,” I try again, “because I...I’ve sort of fallen for you.”
“Sort of?”
“I’ve really fallen for you,” I say, watching the smile on his face deepen. “What I said before...I meant—”
Ryder pulls a hurt expression. “You don’t want to have my baby?”
I laugh a little, but then I feel myself settle into a more serious mood. “I could see having a baby with you. I could see...” It takes me a few moments to find the words. “I’m not saying I need a baby right now. I’m just saying that I could see how it would be...it would be very joyful, with you. I think we could have fun.” My throat tightens. “And honestly I’m not willing to give up on happiness yet. So—”
Ryder steps closer, pulls me in again, and kisses me on the side of my neck, just below my jawbone.
“I think what you’re saying is that we should give this a real go,” he murmurs, and the sound of his voice, the heat of the kiss, sends a shiver of pure pleasure down my spine.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
He kisses me properly then, his lips firm on mine. It only takes a few seconds for the kiss to deepen. Before I know it, my hips are pressed against his and his tongue is dueling with mine, and holy God do I need to get inside that house and get rid of these clothes. All of these clothes.
When we come up for air, I’m practically panting. “Let’s go inside.”
“There’s one thing I have to ask you, though,” Ryder says, leaning back just far enough to look into my eyes. “Are you okay with my... baggage?” Worry flashes in his eyes.
“Are you talking about Minnie?” I shriek. “She’s the damn cutest person I’ve ever met, not a suitcase.” He laughs out loud. “But yes. I’m okay with that. I’m more than okay with that. You guys are a package deal, and I want the whole package.”
“I have a package for you...”
“God, Ryder,” I smack his arm. “You’re going to say this kind of thing to me out here? In public?”
He gives me an absolutely wicked grin. Then he lifts me up into his arms and backs up through the open door of his house. It’s no sweat. He carries the cinnamon rolls in his other hand like it’s no big deal. I can’t stop laughing. I’m a puddle of liquid desire for him, but the joy is too much to be contained in silence.
Ryder takes us through the living room and into his bedroom, and there’s a mad dash to get our clothes off, dumping them all in a pile on the floor. I leap back into his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, and he catches me like I’m weightless.
I bend my head toward his and take one more long moment to look into his eyes. The next couple of hours are going to be a whirlwind, I know, so that we can unleash all this tension built up between us, and I can’t wait to have his hands on me. Our life together is going to be a whirlwind.
But right now we’re in the calm before the storm.
“I love you, Valentine Carr,” he whispers.
�
��I know,” I whisper back.
He laughs and tips me backward onto the bed, falling with me onto the comforter like it’s a big, soft stack of pancakes. I’m so desperate for him that I pull him in close, locking my legs around his hips and wriggling to get into just the right position.
“But really, I do love you,” I tell him.
After that, we don’t need any words for a long time.
Epilogue
Ryder
“One Minnie Mouse pancake for Minnie!”
Valentine tries her best, but it’s obvious that she’s choked up. Lucky for her, Minnie is totally oblivious to everything but one thing.
“Balontine, more whipped cream!” She points her little index finger at the plate and then shoots Valentine an utterly charming grin.
“You know I’ve got it right here.” Valentine adds several large dollops to the pancake and tries to pretend she’s not fighting back tears. “And what about you? Can I put in an order for you?”
“Yes. One final order. Because we’re never coming back here, not ever.” I reach my arm out and pull Valentine close. She drops her arm over my shoulders, and we stand like that for a long minute. “An All-American Breakfast, please, mysterious waitress.”
“Cece?”
Cece smiles from her spot across the table. “Pancakes. You know me. Just a big ol’ stack of pancakes.”
Valentine nods, bends down to give me a kiss and hustles into the back.
It’s Valentine’s last day at the Short Stack, and it’s turning out to be surprisingly emotional. She’s been teary since she woke up this morning—in my bed because she moved across the street to be with me after we realized it was more than a fleeting crush that we had on each other. That was about ninety seconds after we started actually dating.
It’s been an absolutely crazy three months since then. We’ve both been working our asses off to save up money for our next adventure. We just found out last week what that was going to be. Valentine was hired to work in the marketing department of an up-and-coming publisher in the city—a hybrid magazine and book outfit that puts out all kinds of cool shit. I don’t understand half of it, but it’s the perfect job for her.
It does mean we’ll have to move away from Lakewood, to Syracuse.
I’ve never seen Valentine more torn than when she got the phone call offering her the job. First she jumped up and down, screeching with joy, and then her face crumpled. “But we’ll have to move,” she’d said, her voice muffled against my neck.
“Yeah,” I’d told her, laughing. “It doesn’t matter where we live. The important thing is being together.”
“But I love it here.”
“We can still love it here.”
“We’ll visit, right?”
“I’ll have to get my cinnamon roll fix somehow, and Cece’s are the best.”
“Those were from the grocery store.”
“Either way.”
Now we’re all here for her very last shift... and something else.
I’m trying to keep it cool for Minnie’s sake. For everyone’s sake, really. But it’s proving to be more difficult than I thought.
“Breathe,” Cece intones. “It’s not going to be romantic if you pass out on the floor.”
“I have been in war zones,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes. “You think a little thing like this is going to take me down?”
“You can never tell,” she says primly, and then dissolves into laughter.
Valentine bustles around the restaurant, filling glasses and putting in other orders. Cece keeps up a regular chatter with Minnie about her pancake, the stingy way they handle the chocolate milk at the Short Stack, and the various people walking by outside the front window.
Meanwhile, all my attention is focused on Valentine.
I’m glad she got the job in Syracuse. It’s going to be fun as hell, and I’m finally going to get the chance to go to school and figure out what I want to do with my life aside from taking her to bed with me every night. But she’s an amazing waitress. This place suits her. Every time she stops at a table, everyone brightens up.
Finally, I sense in my gut that our order is about to be up. Cece must sense it too, because she gets up, pats my arm, and says, “Go get ‘em,” like I’m about to go finish out a golf tournament or something. She stations herself near the doorway into the back room just as Valentine comes out with our orders.
Valentine puts Cece’s plate down first, then mine, and then tucks the tray under her arm. Her eyes are shining still, and suddenly I can’t breathe.
But I do breathe because this is what I want my life to be. An endless series of days, looking at her gorgeous face.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She’s trying her damnedest to stick to the script, and it’s the most endearing fucking thing I’ve ever seen.
I glance down at my plate and then back up at her face. “Actually...yes.”
Valentine frowns, scanning over the table. “Wait. Are you serious? Did I forget—what did I forget?”
I get out of my seat and take the tray from her.
“Ryder, I can carry the tray, it’s just that—” Then she looks at my face—really looks at it.
I put the tray on my chair, and it clatters to the floor. Valentine doesn’t even flinch.
“There’s one thing you can get for me, yeah,” I repeat, and then I get down on one knee.
Sharon has appeared in the doorway, and Cece is standing by with her phone, recording every moment and taking pictures as fast as her thumb can hit the button. All around us, breakfast patrons are catching on. The chatter dies down in an instant, and everyone is holding their breath, straining to hear what I’m going to say.
I should have planned this out in advance.
“Valentine.” I start there. “This is where I first met you. You... sprayed me in the face with whipped cream, and I don’t think you knew it then, but it broke me out of a long, dark, bleak mood that just sucked for everyone involved.”
Valentine’s hand goes to her throat, and a single tear slips down her cheek, but she’s smiling so wide that it could power the whole city. New York City, not Lakewood. It’s a huge smile.
“Everything before you—well, almost everything—was pretty terrible.” This is the worst proposal speech I’ve ever heard, but it’s straight from the heart and Valentine seems to know it. “But everything after—well, almost everything...” Everyone laughs. “...has been unbelievable and amazing. And I want that with you. I want that with you every day for the rest of our lives.”
I take one last deep breath. “Also, I think it’ll be much easier to sort out all the bills, and all those ridiculous emergency contact forms, and all the paperwork we’ll inevitably have to fill out if—”
“Yes!” Valentine shrieks, jumping down into my arms and throwing her arms around my neck. “Yes, yes, yes,” she says into my ear, and her tears are hot on my skin, and her smile is even bigger than before. “I will marry you.”
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to have my baby,” I say into her ear, and then she’s laughing along with me, and everyone else.
Minnie sits in her high chair, beaming and clapping. She has no idea how good this is going to be.
“Ring,” calls out Cece, and because this place is too damn cute, the rest of the patrons pick up the chant. “Ring! Ring! Ring!”
I help Valentine up off the floor, keeping my arm around her waist, and dig the small velvet box out of my pocket. When I open it, she gasps.
“It’s not a diamond,” I tell her, even though it’s obvious by the garnet stones set into the band that it’s definitely not that kind of engagement ring. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“We were never very traditional,” says Valentine, and lets me slip it onto her finger for her which inevitably leads into a long, public, in-front-of-everyone kiss.
It’s all a perfect fit.
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Books by Amelia Wilde
Standalone Novels
Heavy: A Second Chance Romance
The Endless Kiss Series
Reckless Kiss
Fearless Kiss
Shameless Kiss
Ruthless Kiss
Priceless Kiss
The Second Chances Series
Slow Burn: Boxed Set
—Individual Titles—
Never His
Only His
Always His
The Dirty Series
Complete Dirty Series: Boxed Set
—Individual Titles—
Dirty Rich
Dirty Royal
Dirty Rogue
Dirty Ransom
Dirty Rumor
© 2017 Amelia Wilde, All Rights Reserved
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