The Storybook Groom

by Sarah Gay

  Slightly offended, Torin folded his arms over his chest and stood taller. “Two times two is four.” He loosened his arms and counted on his fingers. “Right?”

  She rolled her eyes at him and continued packing her bin. So, she didn’t always appreciate a joke. She’d be happy with Demitri. The guy was awesome, but hardly ever cracked jokes. Pretty serious dude and he would compliment how she was a little flighty.

  “I’m kidding,” Torin laughed out. “I graduated in Electrical Engineering from MIT…with honors.”

  She swung her arms around and hugged him. “You pass,” she said like a bubbly cheerleader with a bob of her head.

  “That’s it?” he questioned in disbelief. “Smart guy now and I’m all-of-a-sudden in?”

  “For now.” She winked. “Ginny’s a smart one. She was a presidential scholar in college and graduated at the top of her class in linguistics and violin performance.”

  “That’s amazing,” he marveled. “Violin?” He couldn’t wait to ask Ginny about her musical talent.

  “Yeah.” Scarlett shrugged. “After she graduated, she joined the military on a whim. At the end of boot camp, she asked for separation. I guess it wasn’t what she thought it would be.”

  “You’re not messing with me, are you?” Torin questioned. “She really went to military boot camp?” He had so many questions to ask Ginny. He couldn’t wait to get to know every facet of this amazing woman.

  Scarlett used her pointer finger to do a crisscross motion in front of her chest. “Criss cross.”

  Torin smiled at Scarlett’s innocence and vivacity; she practically sparkled merriment. He imagined her clients never doing the exercises she gave them, prolonging their recovery time so they could continue their treatment with her, not only physically—but emotionally. Just standing next to her raised his spirits.

  Scarlett differed from Ginny in that Ginny seemed like an older soul. Ginny was wise somehow, in an alchemistic way, her metallic hair chemically mixed with her soul to create the elixir of life. That was good. He needed to write that down and get his teammate buddy to have his hotshot country music singer brother sing it to her. Now that would impress the girl.

  “Scarlett, do you have something to write with?”

  “You feeling poetic?” she questioned flatly, obviously unimpressed.

  He furrowed his brow. How did she know? Ginny was an alchemist and Scarlett a telepathist? “How?” he drew out.

  She shook her head. “You went off into this trance.” She waved a hand in the air. “And now you’re asking for a pen.” She placed her palm on his chest as if he needed schooling. “Poems are almost always a mistake.” Her eyes grew wide. “A huge mistake.”

  “Ah-huh?” Ginny said with attitude. “I may have made a huge mistake…in leaving you two alone—again.”

  Torin threw his hands in the air. “I didn’t touch her.” He swallowed hard.

  “Except when you hugged me,” she teased.

  “You hugged me,” Torin said in his own defense.

  Ginny laughed as she wrapped her arms around him. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

  “How cute?” he said, loving the feel of her in his arms again.

  “Cute enough to…” She gave him a flirtatious wiggle of her eyebrows and whispered in his ear, “Say, go on a last-minute trip to Costa Rica tomorrow?”

  His excitement spiked so quickly he wanted to shout. Ginny set him on a constant thrill ride that he hoped would never end. Did she really want to take a trip with him to an exotic location? He asked her to repeat, “Costa—”

  “Secret trip,” she cut him off as she placed a finger over his lips. “Just you and me. Totally remote. No one would know where we went or when we’re coming back.”

  “Except. Ah…I would know,” Scarlett blurted out with a raised hand like a child soliciting her teacher’s attention at school. “Because I’m standing right next to you, listening.”

  “Our secret?” Ginny took her sister’s raised hand and brought it into her chest. Scarlett knew that they needed to prep the house for their parents.

  Scarlett held out her pinky finger. “Mums the word.”

  9

  Torrential rain pelted the side of the small aircraft as the skies darkened. The landing gear dropped, causing their seats to shake. Panicked, Ginny grabbed Torin’s hand. He leaned down and kissed her temple. Warm flutters cascaded from his kiss down the side of her face and across her neck.

  She had hoped to make it to the house before the afternoon rains began, but they’d been delayed. Ginny closed her eyes and said her peace in case the landing gear failed; take-off and landing were the two things she hated about flying—and small planes.

  The flight from Dallas to San Jose gave Ginny time to think about how her life would change if things progressed with Torin and decided to leave the agency. She would rather be with him than be an intelligence officer. There were things about it that she would miss. The meeting with her superiors and fellow agents had gone better than she had anticipated. They praised her for her role in gaining critical intelligence from the Russian. And, according to recent reports, his employer did not suspect he’d been interrogated before his death.

  Ginny had met privately with her direct superior to discuss her mother’s correspondence with a fellow rogue IRA member in Ireland. Her supervisor had promised to personally thwart future communications as well as arrange for Scarlett to have a protection detail until Ginny returned from her trip.

  Torin squeezed Ginny’s hand, bringing her back to what was in front of her, and how it made her feel; how he made her feel. When she held his hand, she felt no anxiety, no fear for the future, and no self-doubt. With Torin at her side, she knew she could conquer every challenge life threw at her. She held firm to his hand with her eyes closed until the plane landed safely.

  Ginny’s running shoes sank into the cushiony sand path as they dashed to their waiting car in the pouring rain. They threw their two small travel bags into the empty seat next to them as they climbed into the back seat of the SUV. Ginny had reserved the four-wheel drive to get them to their destination—one of the most remote areas of Costa Rica. Ginny had heard that when the dirt roads got wet and muddy, four-wheel vehicles were a necessity.

  They traveled for another twenty-five minutes through the lush landscape before the SUV turned off the main road and bumped along another less traveled road for five minutes. By the time they stopped in front of the white adobe home with a red tiled roof, the rains had subsided.

  Ginny had visited this area a few years ago. When she decided to purchase a home for her parents, she had a mission at home to complete and was unable to get to Costa Rica to check out her options before she bought. She had to trust the information she was given. The pictures the real estate agent had provided looked perfect and the neighbors Ginny spoke with had put her in contact with the right people, including Carla, the woman who would be the caretaker of the home.

  Torin pulled out his phone and opened his camera app.

  Ginny touched his arm. “Can we do this trip without any social media or photos?” She looked up at him with the poutiest eyes she could make. “Please?”

  She had disabled the location capabilities and installed a few apps on his phone before they had left the Dallas airport. She’d told him she needed to enter her contact info into his phone, and she did, but she also gave his phone another level of security without him knowing.

  He grabbed their bags and followed her to the house. “No problem.”

  Ginny opened the front door to a line of candles flickering as they lit the way through the house. Carla had been good to her word.

  Torin whistled his approval. “Is someone here?”

  “I told Carla we’d be late, so she left our bedrooms ready for us and dinner on the back patio.”

  “Nice,” Torin said, dropping their bags and bolting to the back.

  Ginny laughed. “Hungry?”

  “Starving,” he sai
d, opening the sliding screen door. “Ginny!” he screamed. “You gotta see this.”

  She touched his back, causing him to jump slightly. “Right behind you.”

  Ginny’s legs weakened when she saw his masculine face lit by the soft glow of the setting sun as the last rays of sunlight shone on the back of the house. In the light of dusk, his eyes darkened from their usual light blue to a shimmering ultramarine with multiple hues of blue and green.

  “You catching this?” he asked, focused on the seascape.

  “I sure hope so,” she cooed out. “Because it is one fine catch.”

  Ginny didn’t look away from him, not when he pointed out to the ocean, and not when he scrunched his brow. He turned his gaze to her. When their eyes met, she knew she had conveyed her message. She pushed up onto her toes and waited for his lips to warm hers.

  His kisses filled her mind with promise and her heart with warmth. They continued to kiss until the moon rose in the distance. They didn’t stop until they heard soup bubbling and could taste the flavor of beef stew in the saturated air around them, causing their hunger to turn in a more temporal direction.

  * * *

  Torin dug into the stew. It had an unexpected amount of flavor for a few pieces of beef and an assortment of winter squashes. “This is so good.”

  Ginny smiled at him in a strange way.

  “What?” he questioned. “Do I have food on my face?

  “That’s your fifth bowl. I’m seriously impressed.”

  He shrugged. “I’m a big boy.”

  Ginny sighed. “How did your mom ever feed you?”

  A pain split his side. He didn’t talk about his momma all that often because it was still too painful, physically painful. “She was always cookin’ some’m. She’d make this here peach cobbler.” He whistled. “If my friends done found out she was makin’ her peach cobbler, they’d all be at my house waitin’ fer it to come otta the oven and smother it with ice cream.” He looked over at her and caught a naughty grin. “What are ya smilin’ at now?”

  “Yer cute accent,” she said in an exaggerated Southern drawl that sounded like something out of Gone with the Wind.

  “Oh, yer gonna git it.” He picked her up out of her chair and carried her over to the infinity pool that disappeared into the oceanic horizon. “Hold your breath,” he said as she squealed and wiggled to free herself.

  They fell into the cool water like Torin fell for Ginny—hard and fast, not knowing which way was up or down.

  She didn’t seem too upset with his antics, considering she clung to him the moment they surfaced. He had to bite back his passion as her lips trailed along his neck.

  He swam them to the shallow end of the pool and stood, raising her out of the water and setting her on her feet. “Mind if I take off my shirt?”

  She gave that same mischievous look she had given him when she told him he had a cute accent. She pulled at her shirt.

  “What are you doing?” he said, simultaneously confused and exhilarated.

  “I was prepared for you this time,” she said, throwing her wet shirt to the side of the pool and motioning to her swim top.

  He laughed. “How did you know I was going to throw you into the pool?”

  “I’m clairvoyant.”

  “Of course.” He threw up his hands in defeat. “Like your sister.”

  “What do you mean, like my sister?” she asked in a doubting way.

  He had no choice but to answer her honestly now. “I had this thought.” He waved a hand around. “It was nothing really and I asked her for a pen.”

  “Did she give you a pen?”

  “No. She said that poetry was always a mistake.”

  “What poetry?” Ginny prodded.

  He twisted his lips. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “What did Scarlett do to you?” she asked in a patronizing tone, then giggled. “Of course I’ll laugh, but that’s okay.”

  He gave her a look of protest. “If I do this, I’m taking my shirt off, so at least I’ll have something to fall back on.”

  He removed his shirt slowly, squeezed it out, then stretched out his chest and arms. He placed his shirt onto the side of the pool, allowing ample time for Ginny to check him out before he humiliated himself. He cleared his throat before beginning.

  “Ginny.” He reached for her, took one of the brilliant wet curls that tumbled over her creamy shoulders, brought it to his lips, then kissed it. “You are my alchemist. Your copper curls are the elixir to my soul. The chemical properties in your breast have mixed with the heat of my passion; they have defied science to create in you a heart of gold. I leave my heart in your hands. Guild my soul and meld it with yours. Make me a heart of gold so that we may pass through this life as one.”

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I would give you my heart…” She flattened her hands to his chest, then ran her palms over his shoulders, up his neck, and cupped his face. “But you have already stolen it.” Inch by inch she brought her face closer to his, alternating her gaze between his eyes and his lips.

  When their lips touched his élan vital, his spiritual life force, transformed. He smiled through their kisses. She did have the power of an alchemist. She had changed him somehow. The intense emotions he held for her were no longer merely some carnal lust, they were an adoration and sincere dedication to protect and gratify. He was hers until she no longer needed, or wanted, him.

  The next five days were pure bliss. Ginny had suggested that they do the trip completely unplugged. It was filled with runs down the beach, surfing, and some amazing kissing—intermixed with Ginny chatting in Spanish with several people who came to the house to examine the plants in the yard, cook them food, or bring them clean laundry.

  Torin carried their bags out to the waiting SUV. It was the same driver and vehicle they had when they first arrived. When he returned to the house, Carla was waiting with open arms. She had been a top-notch housekeeper and cook all week. The soup was only the beginning. When he and Ginny didn’t walk into town and eat, she had delicious food prepared. And she kept the house immaculate.

  Carla barely came to his waist when she hugged him. Torin pulled the tip he had prepared for her from his pocket—five folded hundred-dollar bills—and handed them to her. She said something in Spanish through soppy tears and motioned for him to lean down.

  When he started to bend over, she grabbed his shoulders, pulled him down with force, and gave him a wet kiss on both cheeks.

  Ginny walked in as he stood back up. “I can’t leave you alone with anyone.” She clicked her tongue. “Can I?” She raised an eyebrow and winked.

  Torin pressed his fists into his waist as he gave the house and property a once-over. This had been one of the best weeks of his life. “Should I buy this place?” He scratched at his week-long facial hair. Ginny told him she liked him clean-shaven, but she also thought he looked hot with well-trimmed facial hair. The hot word always won over the like word. “Do you think it’s for sale?”

  Carla shot a look at Ginny and asked her something in Spanish. Ginny responded, but her response didn’t seem to satisfy Carla’s curiosity.

  “What did she ask?” Torin questioned as they climbed into the SUV. “She looked over at me like she felt sorry for me.”

  “She asked if you needed some vitamins.” Ginny patted his leg. “Said you looked like you might be getting sick.”

  “I do have a pit in my gut, but I think that’s because we’re headed back to reality.” He turned to her and placed his hand on her knee. “Do you think this past week could be our future reality?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, resting her head into his arm.

  He bent over and smelled her hair. He held his breath, keeping her warm vanilla and lavender scent in his chest for as long as he could, and wishing they didn’t need to return to Texas, to their separate lives, in their separate homes.

  10

  Two days later, Ginny pulled her car off the road and into a field with
a sign for ranch event parking.

  Her leg vibrated. She carefully removed the earpiece strapped to her thigh and placed it in her ear. The slim phone, strapped next to her earpiece, allowed her to communicate with the agency. Her superior had advised her to be on alert over the next few days.

  Ginny’s mother had been up to her old antics again, causing havoc. She had tried, unsuccessfully, to contact that same associate of hers in Ireland several times over the past week. Ginny’s supervisor believed that he had thwarted her mother’s communication but warned Ginny that there could be a time, in the near future, where the US government would need to intercede.

  Her mother hadn’t made any direct threats, but her words had been hostile and invited retaliation.

  She answered the call. “Agent 91357.”

  “Agent,” her supervisor’s voice rang clear. “There are rogue members of the IRA here in Dallas.”

  Ginny’s body hardened with anticipation. “What is my mission?” It was a good thing she had her handgun strapped to the inside of her other thigh.

  “We monitored their movements and communications until they arrived in Dallas at o six hundred this morning.” His voice tensed. “They’ve gone black.” He swore. “We lost them, Ginny. Be careful.”

  The call ended. That was the only time her superior had ever called her by name over the closed channel, which meant he was alerting her that her cover had been compromised, and someone was listening in.

  Ginny’s anger rose, but the sudden sweat on her brow was not from her anger, or the heat. It resulted from a premonition that something was coming, something she couldn’t control without intel.

  She removed the earpiece and reattached it to the strap on her thigh. She hated leaving her car there on the side of the road, but she had no choice. That’s where the pavement ended. Her little spit-fire was made for speed, not rocks and mud.