by Lori Ryan
His heart squeezed, seeing her with the little girl. He could so easily picture her with a little girl who looked just like her, teaching her to dance, to tie bows. Laughing with her.
He turned to study the eclectic group of dancers. They were all shapes, sizes, ages, colors—and sexes—something Elle reveled in. Some had natural skill, others had two left feet, but Elle said it didn’t matter. The only requirement she had to enter her dance company was a love for a dancing and a passion for learning. If someone couldn’t pay, she found a way to make it work for the particular family.
She worked tirelessly to instill into these young minds that life wasn’t about looking for the flaws in themselves or in others. Life was about learning who they were, who they wanted to be.
Inside her studio she’d placed a huge wooden plaque.
I am perfectly imperfect. And I’m learning to be okay with that.
Life was about discovering their dreams and working hard to reach them. But most importantly, life was best lived in the moment.
Elle had chosen Jessie J’s song “Who You Are” for her dance classes’ first performance. She told the students the song described what she had gone through in her own life, worrying every day about being perfect. Elle wanted them to know perfection wasn’t an attainable goal. Nothing in life is perfect, nor is it guaranteed.
“Oh, my gosh,” Elle whispered, slipping up next to him. “I’m so nervous.”
“Are they ready?” Emmett asked.
“Ready as they’ll ever be.” She glanced up and smiled, a real smile. One that had captured him, heart and soul, two decades before. Elle pointed to the sound guy who nodded and gave her two thumbs up.
“Here goes nothing,” she said, pulling away from Emmett and walking toward the front of the curtain.
“Wait,” Emmett said, pulling her back.
“What?” she asked, brows knitted in confusion.
“Break a leg.”
Elle laughed. “That’s for actors. You never tell a dancer to break a leg, Emmett.”
“Yeah, I guess that doesn’t make sense. What should I say though? Isn’t it bad luck to say good luck?”
“You can say, merde,” she said with a huge smile.
“Merde,” he repeated. “What does that mean?”
She glanced over at her dancers who were making their final adjustments on the stage before the curtain lifted. “It has to do with animals and poop. I’ll tell you later.”
He gave her a look. “Well, okay, merde then.”
“Thank you.” She pressed a soft kiss against his lips. “Okay, I’m going to go announce the show.” She drew back the curtains but paused. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
“What?” Emmett glanced over her shoulder.
“My dad brought me roses. I hate roses.”
“Those aren’t for you, sweetheart.”
Elle turned to stare. “Of course, they are. He brings flowers to all my performances. Who else would they be for?”
“Wait for it.” Emmett nodded back to the audience.
“Oh, my gosh, that’s your Aunt Sally. And she’s walking straight toward my dad.”
“Yep.”
“My dad is giving the roses to your aunt?”
Emmett watched as Warner motioned toward the empty seat. Aunt Sally hesitated but Warner stood and handed her the roses.
Slowly, she slid into the seat beside him and smelled the flowers, smiling ever so slightly.
“Oh, my gosh,” Elle whispered.
“They’re not just any rose,” Emmett said. “They’re Love and Peace roses. Steve Perry’s favorite. Or so Aunt Sally says.”
“Steve Perry?” Elle turned to stare at him. “As in the singer from Journey?”
“Yep.” He nodded.
“How did my dad know that?”
Emmett shrugged. “I might have given your old man a few pointers on how to win over my aunt. He had to special order the roses.”
“Why Emmett Sumner,” she swatted his shoulder, “you hopeless romantic.”
He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck. “I hope I’m not hopeless,” he whispered against her skin.
“No,” she said, “not hopeless, but very romantic. And quite excited.” She wiggled against his leg. “Later.”
Emmett laughed. “Later,” he whispered. But not much later, he thought.
“Okay,” she pecked his lips, “got to go.”
He watched as Elle walked out onto the stage for the introductions. The audience broke out into applause as she smiled and waved to everyone.
The noise of the applause faded as Emmett thought back to their first kiss. They were seven and he’d just stolen her Tickle Me Elmo doll to get back at her for ruining his Andrés Galarraga baseball card.
Elle had cornered him and told him to give it back “or elth.” She sounded remarkably like her student of today. Elle had lost her two front teeth earlier that month and it was difficult to understand her. Something he razzed her about relentlessly in those early days.
He’d asked what the “or else” was.
She’d just smiled, that toothless grin, and kissed him. Flat on the lips. She’d stepped back, defiantly, placing her tiny fists on her hips and exclaimed, “I’ll gif you coothies.”
He’d immediately spit on the ground and rubbed his tongue with the back of his hands.
Emmett couldn’t help but grin now, thinking about that first kiss.
“Gif him back, Emmeth,” she’d said. And he had, laughing the entire time.
For the rest of their lives, he’d give her anything she asked of him and more. So much more.
Lori and Kay are so glad you guys found this series and are with us in the world of Canyon Creek! If you haven’t read Ben and Maggie’s story, check it out here! Max and Devlin get their book next, and we hope you’ll join us for their journey. You can get that book here!
Read on for an unedited sneak peek at Thank You For Loving Me!
Unedited Preview of Thank You For Loving Me
Chapter One
Devlin Darby moved her hips to the music, her skin vibrating with the bass beat thumping through the sound system as sweat rolled down her back. She stood on the dance floor of one of Denver’s trendiest night clubs, losing herself to the feel of the music washing over her. As a professional photographer, she traveled the world and loved every minute of it, but sometimes being back in the states gave her the chance to refuel in a way no other place on earth could.
Bonus points if that visit included good friends. This one did. Reuniting with her best friend, Maggie Lawrence, was just the break Devlin hadn’t even known she needed. Of course, watching Maggie dance was enough to bring a smile to anyone’s face. She watched Maggie with amused fascination, unable to stifle a laugh.
Her friend’s hands waved spastically above her head as if she were flagging down a plane, her hips gyrating with the music. She was more than a bit offbeat, but who cared. Maggie laughed, her smile brighter than the flashing lights overhead. They were here to have a good time, and obviously Maggie was.
Maggie lived in Canyon Creek, Colorado, a small town Devlin had always considered her home, even though she’d only lived there until she was twelve. Despite Devlin’s countless moves around the world after leaving—thanks to her father’s military career and now her job as a photographer—Maggie and she had remained close.
In a little over a month, Maggie would marry the town hottie, Ben Sumner, something that might bring out a twinge of jealousy in even the best of women. Ben was handsome, successful, devoted and most of all, loyal. But Devlin harbored no feelings from the green-eyed monster. She had absolutely no plans to tie herself down to one man for the rest of her life. She was a free spirit, a gypsy, and she liked it that way.
She rarely stayed in one place more than a month anyway, and she didn’t see herself ever settling down, no matter how hot and successful the man was. Or how much fun they might have between the sheets.
Devlin glanced a
round the dance floor. A small group of Maggie’s closest friends congregated around them. Devlin mimicked their moves, laughing and dancing, not used to the female camaraderie.
She and Maggie met in elementary school when Devlin marched up to the shy girl hiding behind the monkey bars, and proclaimed, “We’re best friends now.” Maggie nodded without protest, and from then on, that’s exactly what they’d been.
Maggie Lawrence was no longer that shy girl hiding on the playground. She’d found her place in the world and a man she loved. For that, Devlin was truly happy.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” She yelled over the music. The overhead lighting danced across her sweat-streaked face.
Devlin laughed as she took in her friend’s attire from head to toe. Maggie’s outfit announced to everyone why they were there. Her friend’s bachelorette party.
A bedazzled headband sat on top of her curly auburn hair, two light-up penises wiggling above her head from springy coils. Across her chest lay a satin sash that read “Same Penis Forever.” Apparently her fiancé, had found the sash before the party and written “huge” before the word penis with a permanent marker.
Devlin didn’t want to think about the size of Ben’s junk, but if he was anything like his brother’s then the banner held some truth.
She ignored the shiver of arousal that ran through her at the memories that never dimmed.
Max Sumner and Devlin had hooked up a month ago when she’d flown in from New York City on a previous visit. She’d been scouting locations for a coffee table photo book she was working on and had returned to the small Colorado town, believing the breathtaking mountain views and fresh air would provide the perfect back drop for the project. She knew there were other reasons she’d been drawn back to Canyon Creek Mountain. It was the only place that had ever felt like home to her.
Still, the hookup with Max hadn’t been planned, and if she’d taken a minute to think, she would have stopped herself. Sadly, Max had a way of frying her brain anytime she kissed him. Devlin had always had a no-strings-attached attitude toward men. She wanted one thing only from them: sex. Good sex. And Max had given her just that.
Devlin had grown up in a house run by a dictator. Namely, her father, Louis Darby, Gunnery Sergeant. He’d controlled every aspect of her and her mother’s life. From telling them how to dress, how to wear their hair, and even her mother’s exercise regimen. His attitude toward women in general had been disgusting.
She had vowed early on in life never to let a man have that much control over her, not the way her father still did her mother.
She shook her head, banishing memories and bringing herself back to the dance floor. She focused on the addictive beat of the music, before realizing, addictive or not, she had to take a break.
Devlin leaned into Maggie, shouting in her ear above the music. “I need to go sit down, I’m beat.”
“Okay, hold on, I’ll go with you.” Maggie turned and yelled to the other women in the bachelor party group, pointing toward the general area where they’d highjacked a few tables earlier. She turned back to Devlin and grabbing her hand. “Let’s go to the bathroom.”
“No sweeter words.” Devlin laughed. She’d been drinking water tonight, volunteering to be the designated driver, but even sweating on the dance floor hadn’t stopped Devlin’s bladder from nearly exploding.
Maggie led her through the mass of people gyrating and jumping on the dance floor. They stood in a small line, their backs resting on the wall as they both fought to catch their breath.
Devlin tilted her face toward Maggie. “You having fun?”
Maggie’s eyes remained closed as a huge smile split across her face. “A blast. I’m having a blast, Devlin. It’s the best.” Her eyes fluttered open and she turned to Devlin. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I told you I would be.” She’d come for Maggie but even a nomad like Devlin had to admit it was nice to hang out in one place for a few weeks. She rarely stayed at her apartment in New York for that long.
The line moved quickly and both women used the facility and washed their hands. Maggie slipped her arm through Devlin’s and practically skipped toward their table.
“Oh, shit,” Maggie said, coming to an abrupt stop, her hold on Devlin’s arm making Devlin stop with her.
“What?” Devlin stared around the club.
“There.” Maggie pointed toward their table.
When her eyes followed Maggie’s finger, she echoed her friend’s sentiment. “Shit.”
Standing around their table were three burly men, eyes flashing with a mischief that said the night was about to get more interesting.
Ben Sumner stood tall above the other men, his hazel eyes glowing as he raked a hand through his dark hair, searching the dance floor.
Maggie grinned and released Devlin’s arm, walking toward him.
Devlin muttered under her breath. “What’s the point of a bachelorette party if the bachelor shows up?”
Ben’s brother, Emmett stood next to Ben, his gaze searching the dance floor as well, probably for his fiancé, Elle. Emmett looked so much like Ben it was uncanny.
Beside Emmett stood the town contractor, and second resident hottie, Shawn Braddock—affectionately known by all the girls in Canyon Creek as Shawn ‘Big Cock’ Braddock. Devlin couldn’t validate Shawn’s nickname, but as she joined them at the table, she couldn’t help but notice him. Huge thighs clad in snug fitting jeans, shaggy blonde hair brushing against the collar of his button-down shirt, arresting blue eyes—yeah, Devlin would definitely buy a ticket for the Big Cock ride.
Suddenly a little voice inside her head taunted, liar. She would never admit it to anyone, not even to herself, but since her time with Max, she hadn’t desired anyone else the way she had him. Without realizing it, she found herself searching the area for him like a love-struck fool. Idiot.
“Looking for someone?” a deep voice growled behind her.
A smile spread across her face and her girly parts tingled when she recognized the voice.
Max Sumner.
He pressed his body into hers, and without realizing it, she sank into him, his heat both tempting and teasing her.
She breathed in, inhaling his familiar scent. Mistake. She remembered his spicy cologne from their night together. The aroma had set off a chain reaction in her body the moment she’d nuzzled against his chest and breathed him in. The scent had clung to her body for days after their time together, despite several showers.
It had been a month since they’d slept together—although what they’d done would never be called sleeping. Or even sex. It was more like red-hot-monkey-sex. Red-hot-dirty-as-sin-monkey-sex.
Despite the good time they had together, she’d known immediately that sleeping with Max had been one of the dumbest things she’d ever done. The minute he’d rolled on top of her and slid inside, she’d realized that giving her body to him had been a mistake. Devlin only gave men one night, maybe two at the most. But with Max, she’d immediately wanted more. There was something about the big, sexy, alpha-male football player that was addicting. Like that first bite of a chocolate chip cookie as it comes out of the oven, warm and melting in your mouth—
“What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?” Max’s voice was at her ear, his breath caressing her skin like a silk scarf.
Shit.
Devlin swallowed hard.
“You look like you’re about to come all over yourself.” His lips gently brushed the shell of her hear.
Heat bloomed in her belly and she damn near did come as a dull ache throbbed between her legs.
“Which is fine by me,” he continued, “although I’d prefer for you to come underneath me, or on top of me, or—”
Devlin held up a hand to stop him. “I get it.”
He stepped back and chuckled.
She choked back a moan as the deep rumble of his laughter vibrated through her body.
Double shit.
This, this
right here, was what would get Devlin in trouble. Dirty talk from a sexy-as-sin ex-NFL player with more ego than good sense. Getting caught up with Max would be like giving a gallon of ice cream to a woman on her period. Nothing good would ever come of it.
Against her better judgment, she turned and studied the man in front of her. He was wearing a navy-blue sweater that clung to his muscular body like cling wrap.
Triple shit.
His faded jeans showcased powerful legs that had been honed to perfection. He might not be in the NFL any more, but you’d never be able to tell from that drop-dead body.
His dark brown hair was cut short on the sides, a bit longer on top. All the better to grab during the throws of passion, she knew from personal experience. His dark hazel eyes studied her intently, as if trying to learn her every move. No wonder his face had donned the cover of sports magazines across the world. He was, in a word, hot-as-fuck. Okay, that was three words, but she’d hyphenated.
Devlin turned her attention to Emmett who was now moving across the dance floor. She didn’t have to guess where he was going. Emmett Sumner would always find Elle Noble, no matter where she was. Moth, meet flame.
Devlin watched Elle as she gyrated on the dance floor. She was a professional dancer and owned her own dance studio, which gave her an advantage. Elle’s body was toned and lean and just the right amount of sexy to make men melt, and women want to scratch her eyes out.
Devlin had photographed Elle several times, even winning an award with a photo she’d taken of Elle before a ballet performance in college. Elle was a cancer survivor and Devlin planned to make her the centerpiece of her new coffee table photograph book benefiting an organization that provided support for cancer patients as they went through treatment.
But at the moment, Elle was lost in the music, eyes closed. Emmett honed in on her, forcing the circle of men around Elle to part with a lethal glare. Smart men. Elle finally opened her eyes and a huge grin transformed her face as she reached out to Emmett. Devlin couldn’t help but smile as the two moved together, his hands pulling her in, close and intimate as though the dance floor was theirs alone.
