by R. R. Banks
I look at him and smile as I feel the tears welling in my eyes.
“What is it?” he asks, wiping away one of the tears that rolled down my face.
“Nothing,” I say. “Nothing bad. I just – I just really needed this.”
“That makes two of us,” he says softly. “That was amazing. You are amazing.”
“Yes, it was,” I say. “And yes, you are.”
Although our coupling was quick, I enjoyed it intensely. It was passionate. It was intense. And it was intimate. And best of all, it was with the man I love.
He looks down into my eyes and smiles. “I love you, Paige.”
“I love you too, Liam.”
Epilogue
Paige
Eight Months Later...
“I can't believe today's the day,” I tell Skyler.
I'm busy pulling my hair back into a French twist, a bobby pin hanging from my mouth. My makeup is done, thankfully. And I have to say, it looks amazing – thanks to Skyler. She's an absolute whiz when it comes to things like fashion and makeup. She can even make me look presentable, which I'm always thankful for.
My dress is laying on a chair nearby and Skyler is helping me get through the final preparations.
“I just hope I remember how to run things.”
“Hush,” Skyler says, taking the bobby pin from my mouth and putting it where it needs to be. “It's only been two months. You'll remember how to run your bookstore just fine. It's just like riding a bike, hon.”
“It's not just a bookstore now though,” I say, staring at myself in the mirror. “It's so much more than that. I don't even know if I can call it an actual bookstore anymore, to be honest. I mean – what do I call it?”
“You call it Bookworms,” she says and smiles. “And it'll be fantastic. Bigger and better than ever. Hon, this is how you adapt. Evolve. This is how you grow your business and turn it into something amazing.”
If there's a person I can trust to know what it takes to adapt and evolve, it's Skyler. She's made the transition at the Grill look almost flawless and simple. I know it's not, but that's a testament to her skill. Her savvy. Her smarts. I only hope my own transition is half as smooth and amazing as hers.
There's a knock on the door and I jump at the sound. I giggle and Skyler winks at me as she answers the door. It's Liam, of course, with a bouquet of flowers in hand and a wide smile on his face.
As he enters the room, I can't help but stare at the love of my life. And I have to say, he's looking incredibly handsome in a designer suit and tie that's been well tailored to his sexy form. With a fresh haircut and a clean-shaven face, he almost looks too good to be true. Like a model stepping straight out of the pages of a fashion catalog. Even Skyler gives him the once over before shooting me a jealous look behind his back. “Damn,” she mouths as he walks toward me, flowers in hand.
I kiss my man, and he kisses me back – perhaps a little too passionately considering the fact that we aren't alone. But Skyler doesn't mind.
“I'm so proud of you,” he says.
“I couldn't have done it without you,” I say.
“Yes, you could have,” he laughs. “You did this on your own. With Skyler's expert input, of course.”
“Why thank you,” Skyler says. “I'm glad somebody appreciates my talents.
I laugh and shake my head. “This wouldn't be happening without you,” I say. “Without the both of you. And I can't even begin to tell you how grateful I am. I love you both so damn much.”
Skyler cuts in. “Oh, hush. All of this sappy sentimentality is making me sick,” she laughs. “But, you should be proud, hon. I'm so proud of you. This version of Bookworms is going to be absolutely amazing. I can feel it.”
Liam kisses me again and squeezes my butt. “Skyler's right, you know.”
“Of course, I am,” she says. “I always am. You'd think that people would listen to me more, given that I am always, in fact, right. About everything.”
I shoot her a look and we both stick out our tongues at each other. So mature. But hey, that's us.
“We should probably get going,” Liam says. “We don't want to be late for your big day.”
“No, we don't,” Skyler says.
One of the perks of being with someone as filthy rich as Liam, is the staff that comes along with him. Like the driver who takes us to my grand re-opening. Already, there are crowds out front, waiting for the shop to open. I'm shocked to see almost fifty people already lined up and waiting outside the doors. Faces both familiar and not.
“Where are all these people coming from?” I laugh as we step from the car.
“All over Washington,” Liam says. “The word has spread.”
I have a feeling he has a lot to do with that. I squeeze his hand and give him a quick peck on the cheek. Of course, the special guest we have booked for our grand re-opening can't be hurting the turnout. She's a local, up-and-coming author by the name of Pamela Wilcott. She's a true crime and suspense writer out of Seattle and people can't seem to get enough of her.
She's had a number of bestsellers, and judging by the looks of it, a lot of people already have copies of her book in hand and are waiting for her reading and signing.
This is just the beginning though. With the help of some of Liam's small business expert friends, I've learned a lot. I've learned how to engage with the community and how to do things that will get people involved. Get people excited. And as a result, our calendar has a number of other, larger names coming to do readings and signings as well.
I'm so excited because I know this is only the beginning.
We enter through the back door, and I still can't believe this is my shop. This is my bookstore. Only better. Far, far, far better.
Mrs. Brenton ended up selling her building to Liam instead of Damon. There was little choice given the fact that Damon is behind bars now. But Liam still gave her a very fair price for it – enough that she's moving down to the Yucatan Peninsula, just like she talked about. I know she'll be happy there and honestly, I couldn't be happier for her.
After purchasing the Daily Cuppa, because it's right next door to my shop, we were able to knock down the wall between them and opened it up, making my store larger and more spacious, while also having a coffee shop inside the space.
Now, rather than being crammed into a tiny store with tight aisles, people can walk comfortably through my shop, perusing titles while drinking their lattes. The building next to us, which used to be a gift shop that never did very well, also sold to Liam and we opened that space up to house a bakery and small trinket store. We also had some backroom space, which we transformed into the reading and signing room for our special guest authors and speakers.
As I look around the store, I'm once again in awe of it all. I can't believe this place is mine. It looks so new, so sleek, so modern – and yet, we were also able to retain the charming, small-town feel of it.
I look at the crowd, my heart swelling, and happen to see Port Safira's new mayor, Judy Archer. After everything went down with Damon, Brian Goodrich was implicated. The City Council demanded his immediate resignation, but they inexplicably didn’t press charges, allowing him to avoid jail time. They said the time he would get on charges of corruption wasn't worth the money it would take to prosecute him.
So, he was allowed to resign in disgrace, his political career over. He moved away from Port Safira, and in a special election, Judy Archer won in a landslide. Personally, I think it would have been worth the money to send Brian to prison along with Damon and Brittany, but I’m vindictive like that.
I have to content myself with the fact that at least those two, along with Brittany's boyfriend, Travis, are all in prison, and given the severity of the charges – including attempted murder – they're going to be there for a very long time. It's a win and I'll take it.
“I still can't get over how big it is in here now,” I say.
With all new bookshelves, an organization system and computer
s with programs that track inventory, my job has become so much easier. I also have staff now. Just a few people, like Peggy who was here early this morning baking goods for the signing and getting the space set up.
There's a brightly lit display case filled with cake pots, croissants, donuts and more – all made from scratch right here. In my new store. My new store that happens to smell absolutely heavenly, thanks to all of the baked goods.
Liam slides his arm around my waist, and leans close to me, nuzzling my ear. I giggle and slap him playfully on the arm. Although part of me wants to re-live the first time we were together in my shop, and I know he wants to, that's going to have to wait a while.
“Ready to open the doors?” he asks.
“It's a little early,” I say, looking at the clock.
“We're ready to go, why keep them waiting?” he says.
He has a point. Why keep the people waiting? It's been so long since I've seen this many people in my store that it will be a nice sight. As nerves flutter in my stomach, I nod, and Skyler flips the sign to “Open” and unlocks the door.
Crowds of people stream in, filling the bookstore, and my eyes fill with tears. It's been years since the place has been filled with this many people. I pause for a moment and listen to the loud chatter of voices as customers move about the store, sending a big, fat tear rolling down my cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Liam.
He kisses the top of my head and says, “No, thank you, Paige.”
“What for?” I ask.
“Just for being you,” he says. “You came into my life at the right time. You're exactly what I needed, but you're more than I deserve.”
I shake my head. “No, I think we're exactly what each other needs,” I say. “And exactly what each other deserves.”
THE END
Becoming Daddy
A Billionaire’s Baby Romance
I gave her a contract. She gave me a baby.
It was simple.
Rue would carry my baby.
My girlfriend and I would raise it.
Just another contract in the life of a billionaire.
Sounds simple right? Wrong.
My girlfriend no longer wants me or my unborn child.
She may have given up on this baby, but I never will.
And, I think I’m falling for Rue.
Rue, with her small-town charm and her enticing curves…
Ignites the fire inside me.
I will give her the life she deserves.
But will someone’s change of heart keep me away from the family I always wanted?
Chapter One
She was perfect. Too perfect.
That should have tipped me off. I should have known the second that I saw her that things weren’t going to turn out the way that any of us were saying that we expected them to. I should have realized the minute that I looked at her too perfect blond hair, too perfect blue eyes, and too perfect pout on her too perfect lips that something was strange.
But we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves…
Rue
“There have been many sage voices who have spoken on the topic of love and its influence on the human condition. One of the greatest of our time illustrated this in the most powerful and poignant of ways with the words ‘If you want to be my lover, you’ve got to get with my friends. Make it last forever. Friendship,” Tessie looked at me solemnly and wagged her finger slowly, “never ends.”
I stood in the kitchen of my tiny apartment cooking brunch as one of my two best friends read me the opening excerpt of her new novel, the tenth or so that she had started in the time that we knew each other, and the tenth or so that she was going to write five pages of, shove into a drawer, and never finish. My stirring had been brought to a stop by her words and I stared at her, ready for her to get to the joke, but she didn’t. Instead, she brought her notebook down from where she had been holding it high in front of her face and clutched it to her chest.
“That’s it?” I asked.
Her dark eyes snapped to me and she nodded.
“What do you mean ‘that’s it’?” she asked, sounding deeply offended by my question. “Didn’t it touch something inside of you?”
Yeah, the same thing that it touched inside me in 1996.
“I’m just not sure that that is the best way to start your existential novel on the sexual awakening and pair-bonding rituals of today’s woman and its over-arching impact on life in the context of the human condition as a whole,” I repeated, trying to remember the exact order of the words that she had used to describe this most recent endeavor when she arrived at the apartment that morning.
Tessie nodded, a faraway look in her eyes that I imagined she thought was the same type of look that the great Greek philosophers had when they were penning the great truths and musings of their time.
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s too much. It’s too hard of a hit for the very beginning of the book. I need to give my readers the opportunity to gradually warm up to the intensity of the ideas that I’m presenting to them.”
I reached out and patted her on the back.
“You’re a kind and compassionate intellectual overlord,” I said.
Tessie nodded, a tear coming to her eye as she contemplated just how misunderstood she was and the travesty that was her brilliance being wasted on such a dark and emotionally devoid world. I gave a short laugh and turned back to the butter sauce that I was stirring. It was nearly finished when I heard a knock on the back door. I looked at Tessie quizzically. No one came to the back door. Most people didn’t even realize that my apartment had a back door, and those who did were unlikely to actually climb up the winding fire escape to get to it. I moved the curtain that hung over the small window in the door to peek out and saw Christopher standing on the stoop, his hands grasping the wrought iron railings on either side of him like they were giving him life.
“It’s Christopher,” I said, letting the curtain fall back in place and going to work releasing the series of locks on the door.
“What’s he doing on the back porch?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said.
When all the locks were open I opened the door. The third in our group, and my friend for even longer than Tessie, Christopher never ceased to amaze me with his unpredictability. No matter how long I knew him, I never knew what was going to come out of his brain. That was definitely true now as I took in the electric blue and neon purple striped bike shorts that left virtually nothing to the imagination and matching rollerblades that he was wearing. I had never known Christopher to rollerblade except for his brief foray into roller disco during its resurgence several years back, and his lack of experience was showing. Both knees were turned in toward each other and his ankles were shaking. This explained why he was gripping the railings and appeared several inches taller than he usually was when I looked at him through the window.
I reached out a hand to Christopher and he took it, allowing me to pull him into the kitchen. He glided across the linoleum floor and grasped the back of one of the stools against the wall.
“Good morning,” Tessie said.
“Hi,” Christopher replied.
“Want to tell me what’s going on here?” I asked, closing the door.
“Scavenger hunt,” he said.
“Of course, it is.”
“Want to tell me why you’re half naked outside in November?”
“Rollerblading is a good cardiovascular workout?”
“Right.”
And has absolutely nothing to do with the others who might be participating in the scavenger hunt.
“I’m almost done, but there are a few more things that I need.”
“What are they?”
“A bobby pin in a color other than brown.”
“Got it,” Tessie said.
She reached into her hair and withdrew a lavender pin that she handed over to Christopher.
“That’s a start
. Now, three paper clips.”
“I’ve got that,” I said, reaching into my junk drawer. “Does it matter what color they are?”
“Any will do, but I can get bonus points for multiple colors.”
“Here’s a red, a blue, and a rainbow. Bonus bonus points.”
“We’re on a roll! Alright, next is commonly found kitchen items reminiscent of the seven dwarves.”
“What?” Tessie and I asked in unison.
He looked down at the list that he had taken out of the waistband of his bike shorts and repeated the list item.
“Um,” I said, looking around. I went to the spice cabinet and grabbed out a bottle. “Ground black pepper? Sneezy?”
“That’s the spirit. Keep it going. Who’s got Grumpy?”
We scurried around the kitchen for the next several minutes gathering what we could find that made any link to the dwarves. I thought some of them were a little shaky in their interpretation, but I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a couple of weeks and our options were sparse. When I had packed everything into a bag that I hung over Christopher’s arm, I let out a breath.
“Alright, what’s next?”
I need to collect 247 readily distinguishable kisses. Again, bonus points for multiple colors.”
I rushed into my bathroom and grabbed out my makeup box. Digging through, I pulled out every tube of lipstick I could find.
“I knew I could rely on you,” he said.
I handed one to Tessie and smeared on a layer of the brightest red that I could find.
“Ready?” I asked.
Christopher gripped the back of the stool with one hand, opened out the other arm, and squeezed his eyes closed in preparation of the barrage.
“Do your worst,” he said.
Tessie and I went to work, pressing kiss marks over his shoulders, chest, arms, back, and stomach. We changed lipstick colors every few kisses until he was covered with several hues of lip prints.
