He hitches me up until my legs are around his waist. Without breaking our connection, he walks us down the aisle and through the store.
I laugh into his chest. “Aren’t we going to buy anything?”
“I’ve got what I came for,” he murmurs, elation in his voice. “You.”
I dip my head to his chest and inhale his scent. “Happy Birthday,” I say. “You’re only two years younger than me now.”
He clutches me tight as we step outside. “I want everything with you. I’m going to love you so good it’s going to freak you out, a lot. I’ve waited a long time for you, and I might go overboard…” A smile curls his lips as I laugh.
He stops at his Escalade and puts my back against his door. I kiss him slowly, relearning the way he feels. A car drives by and someone whistles. We laugh and pull apart.
His hand cups my cheek. “You need a ride, mystery girl?” he asks, taking me back to the night at the Pig.
“Sure, Damon.”
“You’re slipping. You’ve already used that one.”
“Dillon McQueen, I know you,” I say softly. “You have my heart.”
“I will never break it, Dandelion.”
“I know.” I see the truth in his eyes, the solemn expression on his face.
He goes in for a quick kiss. “We’re going back to your place, and I’m going to show you some new moves.”
“Promise?”
“Toujours. Always. Tell me you love me again.”
I gaze into his stormy eyes. “I love you, football player.”
Epilogue
A few years later…
I leave my agent’s office and pull out of the parking lot in downtown Denver and hit the highway, pointing Serena’s white Range Rover to our place in the Rocky Mountains outside Breckinridge, Colorado. We have a spacious penthouse in the city, but during the off-season we like the peace that comes with crisp air and majestic mountain views. The historic town is perfect, quaint restaurants, locally owned galleries, yoga and dance studios, small bars where musicians play, and snow skiing in the winter.
After I clear the traffic of the city, I pull over at the grocery store. I put on my aviators and grab an old cowboy hat. I want to get in and get out without being recognized.
After the Waylon Tigers won the Sugar Bowl, I was drafted to the Broncos that following April. We weren’t national champs again, but I played some of my best football that year. Sinclair did too.
Once in Denver, I was named the backup, but after the starter suffered a shoulder injury and retired, I stepped up and filled those shoes. This past year we won the AFC West conference and maybe next year, the Super Bowl. I’m at the top of my game and honing my skills as a leader.
Inside the store, I keep my head dipped and move through the aisles, grabbing steaks for dinner, beer, arthritis cream for Nana, cookies for Serena.
A text comes in from Romy. Thanks for letting me hang out at this kickass house, bro. BTW, I need tampons and Aleve. A real man wouldn’t have any qualms about purchasing them. She adds several laughing/crying emojis. FYI, ditch the steaks. Serena made other plans.
Is she cooking? I mentioned the steaks before I drove into the city, but maybe she’s changed her mind, which is weird. She doesn’t like to cook. Usually I make our meals at the cabin, mostly on the grill.
Romy doesn’t reply.
Serena and I were engaged in May after we graduated, then married a year later after my first season in Denver. Contrary to my dream, I didn’t ask her at a football game. I wanted it to be private. I asked her in the meadow as we lay on a blanket with the stars above us. My hands shook as I opened the black box and presented the three-carat diamond to her. My dad helped me pick it out when we were in New York for the draft.
I was nervous as hell. Was the ring too flashy? Was she ready? Was I rushing? I tend to do that, I do, but when I know something, I know. She was my dream since freshman year, and yeah, I wanted a ring on it.
I stayed up late the night before practicing the proposal. I’d already asked Julian and Romy and Nana if I could have her hand, and I knew she loved me, but what if she said no?
She gaped at me when I kneeled at her feet and went for it… Will you, um, you know, be my mine forever? Will you take on this world with me? I want to be your family. I want to wake up every day and see you next to me...
Yes, yes, yes, she told me, jumping up and down.
She picked out our penthouse in Denver and moved in right before summer camp. With her graduate degree done, she spent her time writing her short stories and selling them to various magazines and online publishers. Last year, she picked up teaching dance part time.
I bought Nana a condo on the floor below us. At first, she protested at the gift, but with my promise of great grandkids in the future and with Romy enrolling in Colorado University, she came around. You’re a keeper, she told me. Julian moved into their house in Magnolia, and we see him on the holidays.
Our wedding took place in a chapel in Denver, and we kept it small. Marley was our flower girl, Dad was my best man, and Romy was Serena’s maid of honor. My mom broke off her engagement and showed up with a new man in tow.
Simply put, it was the happiest day of my freaking life.
She took a chance on me, and I’m going to make damn sure she never regrets it.
An hour later, I pull in the driveway of our three-story, eight-thousand-square-foot A-frame house at the base of the mountains. There are two balconies at the back plus a glassed-in porch with a fireplace to enjoy the cold days. The best feature of the property is a fast-running mountain stream behind the house. Most mornings, we sit on the balcony, drink coffee, and talk.
I walk in the door and the place is quiet. Romy appears in the hallway, and I toss her the bag with her things in them. Her hair is cut chin length, a wheat-colored blonde this year. She gives me a fist bump and a blinding smile. “Thanks. Did it freak you out?”
I pop an eyebrow. “I’m a married man. Your sister has similar requests. And nothing bothers Dillon McQueen.”
She rolls her eyes and tells me about her latest boyfriend and asks if he can drop by for the weekend. I tell her to check with Serena.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Kitchen.”
Huh. I don’t smell anything burning, so maybe dinner can be salvaged.
I head that way, eager to see her.
I walk in the kitchen and see her washing a dish at the sink, her copper and honey-colored hair spilling down her back. She’s wearing skinny jeans and a red, flowy blouse. I ease up behind her, stealthy, and wrap my arms around her waist. “Serena.” I smell her scent and exhale, letting the day wash away.
She leans back against me, resting her head on my shoulder. My hand settles over the baby bump on her waist. Our little one is due in four months. Using my face, I push her hair aside and kiss her tattoo. “How’s he doing?”
She sways against me as we move together to unheard music. It’s always like this with us. I can’t get enough of her, her smirks, her kindness, her fierceness, her beauty, the way she loves me. “She’s good. Kicked today when I did yoga.”
“Hmm, an athlete. You’re torturing me by not getting a sonogram.”
She turns around and drapes her arms around my neck. “I thought you liked surprises.”
“Only when I’m in charge.” For her birthday last year, I surprised her with a trip to Paris. On a random weekend this past March, I flew in Bambi and Chantal and they had a girls’ weekend while I hung out with Sawyer and Troy. Sawyer plays for Seattle now and Troy coaches high school football in Boston.
She laughs, champagne-colored eyes sparkling. “Um, surprise.”
“What do you mean? Are we going out to eat? I saw a new Chinese place on Main Street.” I give her a slow kiss, dragging it out, immersing myself in her.
“No, the caterers are coming any minute. We’re having a party.”
I kiss the tip of her nose. “Did Nana invite people to t
he cabin?” She invited her book club last month. Five old ladies showed up—surprise—and we hung out with them all weekend, mostly keeping them fed and showing them around town.
“Let’s just say it’s an early birthday party for you. October is right in the middle of football, so…”
I’m confused. “There’s no cars in the driveway.”
“Because I’m that good. Every guestroom in the house is filled.”
Okay…
“Come with me,” she says mysteriously as she takes my hand and leads me out to the balcony that overlooks our backyard. It’s dusk, a little cool, the sun setting behind the Rockies. Below us, scattered around a roaring fire pit, people mingle.
My heart squeezes. I never imagined the family I have, but there they are, my dad and Brianna and their two girls. I see Nana running a makeshift bar, beer and wine set up on a table. Emotion tugs at me when I see the guys who were my non-blood family at Waylon. With everyone playing professionally, getting engaged or married, it’s hard to meet up—except on the field against each other.
I take them in, Maverick and Delaney, Ryker and Penelope, Blaze and Charisma, Sawyer and Bambi, Troy and Chantal.
Blaze, his arm looped around a smiling Charisma, looks up and sees us. He’s the starting wide receiver for the New York Jets. “Yo, about time you got here! This party has started, man. Get your ass down here and stoke this fire. It’s going out.”
Damn, I missed him.
“I love you, Serena,” I murmur softly.
She leans against me. “You like it?”
“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
She takes my hand and we walk down the steps and meet them.
Maverick, a killer player for the Titans in Nashville, slaps me on the back and congratulates me on a good season. I comment on the defensive records he’s broken in football. The man is incredible.
Serena, Bambi, Delaney, Penelope, Chantal, and Charisma drift over to the stream where we strung up fairy lights next to the water. They grab drinks from Nana along the way. I smile as Nana starts talking. She’s probably regaling them with stories of her latest boyfriend Antonio.
Ryker, the starting quarterback for the New York Giants, gives me a bear hug. “Good to see you, man. This place is amazing. We need a ski trip out here.”
“Come anytime you want.”
Blaze gives me an arm punch. “How’s the season looking this fall?”
“Good. Gonna beat you.”
He laughs and gives me a hard time about a sack I took against the Jets’ defense last year.
Sawyer and Blaze compare their stats while Ryker and I discuss summer camp. Maverick talks about winning the Super Bowl and flashes his gold ring. We laugh about the bonfires at Waylon, the girls that captured our hearts. Whether the legend is true or not…
Before long we’ve eaten some fancy tacos and downed some beers and are sitting in chairs around the fire while the girls laugh nearby. Dad and Brianna have taken the girls to bed and Nana has retired to watch TV. Someone, probably Romy, has turned on the speakers, and music plays in the background.
“Girl on Fire” by Alicia Keys comes on and I can’t help but smile around my beer. Serena was listening to it the night she saw me in the Pig. It’s her theme song, and man, it fits her. She looks like a girl, but she’s a flame. My flame.
I glance over at her, and as if she senses me, she turns her head and our eyes cling. Contentment and satisfaction unfurl inside me.
Dandelion, my eyes say. Thank you for loving me, needing me, trusting me. I promise to love you until my dying breath.
She knows my heart is true.
She smiles and blows me a kiss.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading I Promise You! I hope you enjoyed Dillon and Serena’s love story! A charmer and a bit of a player (Alexa, play “Womanizer”), Dillon needed a kickass girl, and I couldn’t WAIT to write Serena into his world. Nana and Romy; Sawyer, Troy, and Owen; Chantal and Bambi: I loved them so much. Tentatively, I’m saying this is the last of the Waylon University books although I may do a spin-off someday.
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Reviews are like gold to authors, and I read each and every one. If you have a few moments, please consider leaving a rating or a review for I Promise You.
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A SPECIAL NOTE! Please Read!
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Below I have a short excerpt of Dear Ava, an epic, powerful romance that brought me to my knees when I wrote it. There is a trigger warning for sexual assault. It’s there so you aren’t surprised, and I think that’s important. No, the assault does not happen *on* the page, but she does recall it, and the incident becomes the driving force for the heroine. I wanted you to be aware of this before you scroll to the end of your kindle. It’s my most highly rated book with over 1600 reviews on Amazon.
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Xoxo, Ilsa Madden-Mills
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P.S. Please join my FB readers group, Unicorn Girls, to get the latest scoop as well as talk about books, wine, and Netflix:
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About: Dear Ava
Dear Ava
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#1 Amazon Charts and WSJ bestselling author Ilsa Madden-Mills delivers a gripping, enemies-to-lovers, secret admirer, high school romance.
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The rich and popular Sharks rule at prestigious, ivy-covered Camden Prep. Once upon a time, I wanted to be part of their world—until they destroyed me.
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The last thing I expected was an anonymous love letter from one of them.
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Please. I hate every one of those rich jerks for what they did to me. The question is, which Shark is my secret admirer?
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Knox, the scarred quarterback. Dane, his twin brother. Or Chance, the ex who dumped me. . .
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Dear Ava, your eyes are the color of the Caribbean Sea. Wait. That’s stupid. What I really mean is, you look at me and I feel something REAL.
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It’s been ten months since you were here, but I can’t forget you. I’ve missed seeing you walk down the hall. I’ve missed you cheering at my football games. I’ve missed the smell of your hair.
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And then everything fell apart the night of the kegger.
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Don’t hate me because I’m a Shark. I just want to make you mine. Still.
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★★★★★ “A gut punch right in the feels. These characters wreck you. It’s a deep storyline, with such tender, beautiful, unbelievably perfect romance. Gah. I. Am. Wowed. Five Stars!” Angie, Angie’s Dreamy Reads
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Recommended for ages 18 and over.
Trigger warning for sexual assault.
Copyright © 2020 by Ilsa Madden-Mills
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Chapter 1
Ava
Junior Year
My hair covers my face and I shove it away, my heart pounding as my eyes flare open in the dark. The air is cold, an early winter nipping on the heels of fall.
Where am I?
Straining to recall, I distinctly remember the road that brought me to these trees, a narrow, rutted lane, can barely even call it a road, really just a path used by tractors, ATV vehicles, and cars with good front-wheel drive.
No matter the road you take, it doesn’t matter if it’s beautiful or ugly, hard or smooth, paved or pitted with ruts—it’s your road to take. What matters is how it ends.
One of the nuns told me that once, but I can’t recall why—wait, God my head hurts as if someone took a sledgehammer and whacked me.
Blinking, I try to focus, mentally willing the pain
to stop.
Where am I?
A keening sound breaks into the night, and I jerk, realizing it’s me making that noise. Shivering at the eerie sound, I stop, sucking in air then hissing with the effort it takes as I attempt to sit up. I decide against it when agony reverberates through my lower body. There’s a gnawing there—
Screw it. Just let me lie here.
I’m in tall grass, that I do know, and I breathe slowly, orienting myself as I stare up at the starry sky and look for answers. The moon is full and bright, illuminating the high pine trees towering over me, their branches rustling as the wind blows, like ghostly hands rubbing their fingers together. Watching the creepy movement reminds me of a horrid Grimm fairytale where a young girl ventures out into the enchanted forest to pick flowers, only to be gobbled up by a monster.
I close my eyes.
Open them again.
This isn’t an enchanted forest, but it’s definitely the woods.
How did I get here?
Twisting my head, I see the embers of a low bonfire glowing several yards away in a mostly open meadow. Images dance in my head—me at the fire, laughing, dancing, drinking—
I inhale a sharp breath as another memory pierces, and I kick it down. Just not ready.
I Promise You Page 26
