“That night. You know.”
I shake my head.
“Prom,” Wes says as he waves a flippant hand in the air and shrugs. “The bet I made to get you in bed.” He holds his hands up in front of his chest. “I mean, I didn’t film every girl I hooked up with.”
It’s as if the sound of brakes roar in my head. My mouth falls open, and I quickly close it.
“Ford threatened to turn me into the police. I don’t know how he found out about it. Probably used his geeky little computer to hack into my personal thoughts or something.”
“Yeah, computers don’t work that way,” I mumble. I push away from Wes and pace to the window as I gather my thoughts.
With the info I know already, I start making a list in my head. Wes had made a bet about sleeping with me. He thought about filming it, too? Ford somehow knew about it. Ford got Wes to leave me alone.
“That was like ten years ago, though, Lana.”
I turn to face Wes. “It was four years ago.”
“Huh. Feels like more.”
I walk over to him and jut a finger in his general direction. “Let me get this straight. You had some kind of bet to hook up with me, and to prove you succeeded, you were going to film it?”
“Yeah, you know. Just a good-natured bet.”
“You’re disgusting.”
What is wrong with him, I wonder.
“What’s the big deal? You were like in love with me.”
Yes, I was. And for the first time, that little fact makes me feel like vomiting. My cheeks burn, and I gulp a big breath.
I take a good, long look at Wesley Givens. In the back of my mind, I hear all of the things Ford said about him earlier. I remember how dismissive Kacey was with him. Am I the only one who didn’t see how awful he is?
“You’re right; I was in love with you.” At my statement, his eyes light up, and his face contorts into a cocky expression.
“But you know what word is super important in that sentence?” I continue. “Was. I was a lot of things in high school. But the great thing about me is that I grew up. Maybe one day you’ll be able to say the same thing about yourself.”
I feel empowered. I feel strong.
“So does this mean we’re not going to hook up?”
I don’t even respond as I head for the door. I came to Cherrydale for a second chance. And I know just where to get it.
I MAKE MY WAY through the now-raging party, dodging sweaty dancers and binge-drinking minors until I find Kacey in the kitchen. I ask her to give me a ride to Ford’s house.
“Sure, no problem.” Then she steps back and takes me in, a knowing smile blossoming on her face. “Are you and Ford Campbell finally going to get together?”
I let out a nervous laugh because I have no idea what’s about to happen. All I know for sure is that there is no one in the world I want to see more than Ford. “Um …”
Kacey pulls her car keys out of her purse. “Didn’t mean to pry. Come on.” She starts walking toward the front of the house and I follow. “I know it’s none of my business, but Ford was in love with you all through high school. When I saw you guys tonight, I assumed you’d finally gotten together. Then you went upstairs with Wes.”
I groan as we get into her car. “Big mistake.” We start the drive toward Ford’s house, and I turn to face Kacey. “Ford was in love with me in high school?”
Kacey shifts in her seat at a stop sign. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head, dumbfounded.
“Seriously?” she asks as she pulls to a stop in front of Ford’s house.
“I had no idea. I mean, I kinda got clued in tonight.”
Kacey’s eyebrow shoots up. “What happened tonight?”
I laugh as I push the door open. “Something I’m going to go finish right now. Thanks for the ride. Call you soon.”
I run to the front door and knock lightly. No one answers, but I see Ford’s car in the driveway. I try the door and luckily it’s unlocked.
As familiar in this house as I am in my own, I walk through the foyer, across the living room and around to the back where Ford’s room is. Peeking my head through the half-open doorway, I see that Ford is sitting in his usual place—in front of his computer. Only, I notice the computer’s not on, and he’s staring out the window. His hands are on his lap, curled into fists.
Those hands had been roaming under my shirt not so long ago. I tremble just thinking about it. Thinking about everything I’ve learned tonight.
Ford, my best friend in the whole world, has been protecting me for a very long time. And all of these years while I’ve been running toward one guy, the right one has been waiting in the background.
How could I have been so blind?
I take a step into the room, and the old floorboards give out a little creak. Ford’s head whips around. A brief smile crosses his face. But it’s replaced by a determined frown and furrowed brows.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I …” What? What am I supposed to say right now? I don’t have to think too long though because Ford speaks up again.
“Shouldn’t you be making out with Wes somewhere and reliving his glory days? Maybe looking through the yearbook at all of his pictures.”
I let out a sigh and walk toward him. Back in high school, I often had to get his attention from his computer by jumping up and plopping my ass on his desk. I try the same thing now.
The corner of his mouth twitches.
“Ready to listen or do you want to pout some more?”
His only reply is the raise of his left eyebrow.
“I don’t want to hook up with Wes. Or look at his yearbook pictures.”
“Since when?”
“Since I realized what a jerk he is. Since I forced myself to accept that you were right and he’s always been a jerk. Since he told me about what you did the night of prom. Since you kissed me.”
“Lana,” he begins.
“I prefer being called Banana thank you very much.”
Finally, I get the grin. The famous Ford Campbell grin. My stomach takes a little dive because I’m seeing this familiar smile through such different eyes.
“How’d you find out about prom?” he asks.
“I think the question should be, why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I don’t like when your feelings are hurt. I had overheard Wes and a bunch of the jocks in the bathroom during prom. They were making bets on all of the girls. Your name came up, and I knew how much you liked him.”
He runs a hand through his slightly too-long hair. “Listen, Lan, I can accept you dating someone other than me. That’s not what this is about. But if you’re going to be with someone else, I want it to be someone amazing. Because you don’t deserve any less than spectacular.”
In his eyes, I see an earnestness that takes my breath away. He means every word he’s saying.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve liked you for a long time.”
I reach for his hand but stop when I realize he’s holding something. Turning his fist over and prying his fingers apart, I see that he has the red-and-blue friendship bracelet I made him a million years ago.
I freeze. Then my eyes flick up to meet his gaze.
“You kept this,” I say.
“It’s the first thing you ever gave me,” he says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world.
My heart melts. Like actually dissolves inside my chest into a puddle of sparkly goo.
“Well, it won’t be the last.”
“It definitely won’t,” he says mysteriously.
I tilt my head in question.
“I accepted the job in DC. Looks like we’re moving to the same city, Banana.”
With that, I lean over and press my lips to his.
Softly. I came home for a second chance and looks like I got one.
We continue to kiss for a long time, until finally we pull apart. “What?” Ford cocks his head even as his hands continue to roam along my skin.
“This is one hell of a homecoming.”
Grinning, we go right back to enjoying our second chance. The first chance of many more to come.
Award-winning romance author Kerri Carpenter writes contemporary romances that are sweet, sexy, and sparkly. When she’s not writing, Kerri enjoys reading, cooking, watching movies, taking Zumba classes, rooting for Pittsburgh sports teams, and anything sparkly. Kerri lives in Northern Virginia with her adorable (and mischievous) rescued poodle mix, Harry.
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Second chances you never knew you wanted …
JAKE CARDINAL WOKE UP with a massive hangover, an empty whiskey bottle, and a genie sitting on his windowsill. He groped for the glass of water that wasn’t on his bedside table, shoved the whiskey bottle out of his bed, and closed his eyes against the blinding glare of the gorgeous genie in all her purple-haired, pink-sequined glory.
And then he groaned. “Not again.”
“You’re not my fantasy man, either, Cupcake,” she told him. “So get your ass out of bed and make your damn wishes, and then I can get on with my life.”
“Coffee. I need coffee to deal with this,” he mumbled into his pillow. “Also? Never going on a family vacation again.”
“The coffee. Is that your first wish?”
He heard the glee in her voice and decided to thwart her, just because he could. And it had been kind of fun, the last time. Not “hot, naked woman in Tahiti” fun, but … intriguing.
Intriguing was enough to propel him to roll over and shoot her a look. “No, that’s not a wish, Princess. It’s a need. Like, for example, your need to periodically pop in and ruin my life.”
She glanced out the window. “Feels like you’re doing a fine job of that all by yourself. Is this … a log cabin? What happened to the penthouse suite?”
She’d said “log cabin” in the same tone of voice that most people would use to say “rotting corpse.” Or, in his case, today, “morning breath.”
“Hold that thought. I’ve got to brush my teeth.” He sat up and groaned again when something inside his skull started playing the bongos. “I’m going to kill my cousin-in-law.”
He rolled off the bed, stood, and headed for the bathroom. Behind him, he heard her start laughing.
“Nice ass, wizard. But maybe next time you can put your pants on first.”
“So don’t look.”
“Is that a wish?”
“Ha. Not a chance.”
“Barbarian,” she grumbled.
Jake filled a cup of water, tossed back a couple of Tylenol, and brushed his teeth until death breath was only a distant memory. Sadly, the bloodshot eyes looked like they might hang around a while.
He pulled on his shorts and opened the door, half hoping that she’d be gone.
Half hoping that she’d still be sitting on his windowsill.
She was in the kitchen, instead. “Coffee?”
“Is it magic?”
“No, it’s Folger’s,” she drawled. “That’s all you had in this nasty little kitchen.”
She was holding the fridge door open, bending down, which gave him a really terrific view of her really terrific ass. Damn, but she was beautiful.
“Look, Ruby—”
In one smooth move, she straightened and tossed a carton of milk at him. “It’s not Ruby this time. Smell that and see if it’s fresh.”
He sniffed, recoiled, and recapped the carton before tossing it in the trash can. “Two points. We could go out to breakfast … Amethyst?”
“Not Amethyst. But—” She went completely still for a second, not blinking, not even breathing. She had the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. Dreaming, drowning, summer-sky-just-after-a-rain blue. He almost forgot to breathe.
“Are you asking me to go to breakfast with you?”
“Yep. And no, it’s not a wish, before you ask.” Jake took the deep breath his lungs were begging for and blew it out. “We need to get this wish thing out of the way. Tell me your real name, already.”
“Why?” Suspicion curled her sensual lips and soured her tone. “I know all about wizards and witches and the power of a name.”
“Then you know about the power of domicile. I could command you to give me your name.”
Her laughter was like a peal of silvery bells, with the crash of thundering surf underneath. Delicate beauty and imperious power, combined. It suited her.
It was her.
The short, spiky, purple hair? Not so much.
She sneered at him. “You could command me to do nothing.”
He flicked a tiny spell at her, and she disappeared. Just vanished before his spell was even halfway across the room. The target gone, the magic fizzled and swirled its way out of the window, into the rosy light of sunrise over the lake.
And then she materialized in front of him and punched him in the face.
Beware wizards in log cabins …
DONYA FALLING STAR SHERAZELLE wasn’t so much angry as she was confused, and maybe a little bit worried, but she wasn’t going to let the human see it. She shook out her hand and made a mental note: No more punching—at least not when the man had a jaw like iron, to match the hard-muscled body that fascinated her so much.
Not that she’d admit that, even to herself. But washboard abs and bite-able asses aside, she was worried because this had never happened before: In three thousand years, she’d never been compelled to grant wishes to the same person twice. Sure, the guy who’d rubbed the lamp didn’t qualify, but why hadn’t the wishes bounced to somebody who hadn’t already had their chance?
Nothing about this made sense.
“You hit me!” He rubbed his jaw, but he was grinning. Damn, but he had a sexy-as-sin wicked smile. She just bet that women lined up to jump in his bed, and they were probably pretty happy once they got there. Jake Cardinal, of the famous—some said infamous—Cardinal Witches, was a little over six feet of hard-bodied man. He had muscles like a gladiator—and she’d known a few. Luckily, Jake smelled better.
She flashed to the other side of the counter, just in case he tried for retaliation. Also, she needed ice for her knuckles. Because, ouch.
“You deserved it, Cupcake. Okay, wishes. What have you got? Let’s get this over with.” She tapped her fingernails on the counter and tried not to look into his fascinating amber eyes. “You only get three, no wishing for more wishes, no love spells, wishing for anything pervy loses you everything, blah blah blah. You know the drill from last time.”
He shoved his tawny golden hair out of his face. He really was unfairly beautiful. Unfair to mortal women, gay men, and horny Djinn.
“Yeah. Speaking of that, I’m a scholar of all things magic. Maybe the best damn magic scholar on the planet, not to be immodest. I’ve got books and scrolls and even a few computer programs written by the best programmer nerds in their mothers’ basements across the country. All of them tell me that you can never receive wishes from the same genie twice. What’s up? Did you miss me?”
He was smiling, but Donya could see the flash of sincere interest in his eyes.
“Yes,” she drawled, examining her fingernails before yawning. “I missed you. Desperately.”
He put his hands on the counter and leaned over it toward her, which gave her a close-up view of the corded muscles in his tanned forearms.
And the trail of silky hair that led into the shorts hanging perilously low on his hips.
She shivered
, in spite of herself, and of course, he noticed.
“Like what you see, Princess?”
“Actually, I’m cold. But, hey, seeing a drunk loser in a smelly wooden cabin totally does it for me, too,” she said with a straight face and flat voice.
“Ouch. Would you believe me if I told you that you’ve managed to find me on the only two times I’ve been drunk in years?” He started to prowl around the corner toward her—a golden-eyed jungle cat stalking his prey.
Except she’d never been prey. Not even when they’d caught her and cursed her to eternity as a slave. Captured, yes. Prey, never. And those who’d trapped her were long dead, which was its own form of revenge.
She held her hand up, palm out, and he stopped where he was. “You asked me about the wishes finding you twice.”
“Coffee … Jade?” He poured another cup of coffee and held up the pot.
She shook her head, but had to fight to keep from smiling at his attempts to guess her name. “Not Jade.”
“So, Not-Jade. The wishes? And what is your name this time, Genie?”
“I’m not a genie; I’m a Djinn. No music, no Major Nelson, no Disney. Stupid American popular culture,” she grumbled, flinging open cupboard doors to look for food. “Really? Fruit Loops and Captain Crunch? Aren’t you a little old for this?”
He winced. “Great. First, a hangover, then the beautiful woman in my house punches me and calls me old. I think I’m going back to bed.”
“And no milk, only beer. That’s just nasty. What about—” She blinked when his words caught up to her thoughts. “Beautiful?”
Great. Now he was sucking up to her to get more wishes. Humans.
Except, last time …
He drank his coffee, put the mug on the table, and raised an eyebrow. “Like you don’t know it. Although, honestly, the sequins are a bit much. I like the purple hair, but the combination makes you look like an ice skater crossed with a drag queen.”
She bared her teeth at him and then took her coffee out to the deck. A single thought and her coffee was flavored with sugar, cream, and cinnamon, just how she liked it. Another twinkle of thought, and the rough wooden deck chairs transformed into cushioned chaises.
SECOND CHANCES: A ROMANCE WRITERS OF AMERICA® COLLECTION Page 36
