Authors: Samantha Chase
***
I called Levi as I drove home after work. It had been a good day, and I wanted to tell him about it. But I was tired and, when I got in the car, I was hit with a familiar kind of poignancy.
I suddenly knew exactly what I wanted to do that night.
Levi would probably still be working, but I called anyway, on the off-chance he’d have his phone on him and be able to talk.
He’d been working really hard lately—for his father and on the homeless shelter. Working hard was good, but I’d started pushing him a little, hoping he’d consider some other options, something else that he could feel was really
him
.
He hadn’t come up with anything yet, but I knew he was thinking about it.
He answered just as I was about to hang up.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted me. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just kind of…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain my mood. It wasn’t bad or sad or anxious in any way. I just wanted to hear his voice.
He waited a moment and then, when I didn’t finish, prompted, “Just kind of what?”
“I don’t know. When will you be done for the day?”
“We’ve got another thirty or forty minutes. Don’t make anything for dinner. I’ve got something else in mind.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing you need to know.” His voice was almost teasing, but it made me frown anyway.
“I do kind of need to know since, you know, it involves me.”
“You’ll know when you need to know.” His voice was a little less warm.
“I’d like to know now.”
“I’ve made plans for us.” He sounded overly patient, as if he were trying not to get annoyed with me. “Can we leave it at that?”
“You know I don’t like you taking over and deciding things for both of us. I already had something else I wanted to do tonight.”
“What did you want to do?”
“What does it matter? What matters is—” I broke off the words, fighting against the long-standing resistance to being controlled in any way. I knew Levi better than that by now. If he wasn’t telling me something he’d planned for us, there was a good reason—like he’d planned some sort of romantic evening. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t be all snippy. Your plans were probably good.”
“No, it’s fine.” His tone sounded different now—more like him when he was being serious. “They were good plans. I was going to surprise you. But if there’s something else you wanted to do—”
“It’s okay. My thing can be done any time.”
“What was your thing?”
I sighed, feeling that swell of poignancy again. “I was thinking about going to visit Gavin’s grave. I’ve just been…missing him.”
He paused for a minute. “Then let’s do that. I’d like to do it too. That is, if I’m invited.”
“Of course, you’re invited. I was hoping you’d come. But what about your surprise romantic plans?”
“What makes you think my plans were romantic?”
“Oh.” I gave a little laugh. “I just assumed…”
“Uh huh. I can just imagine all the sappy scenarios you were envisioning. Don’t get your hopes up, princess.”
“Well, after this morning, you’re not going to get laid tonight, so I hope you weren’t planning some sexual escapade.” I made sure he could tell I was teasing from my tone. “I’m sexed out for the day.”
“I bet I could make you change your mind about that.”
I was absolutely positive he could make me change my mind about that, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
“But, seriously,” he went on.
“Let’s do Gavin’s grave tonight.
I’ll change my non-romantic, non-sexual-escapade plans for tomorrow.”
I swallowed over a swell of affection and appreciation for this man. “Are you sure?
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Thank you.”
“Save it up for tomorrow. You can thank me extra special then.”
***
A couple of hours later, we were standing together next to Gavin’s grave.
The sun had just set, so the graveyard was dark, lit by the cool light of a nearly full moon and a sky full of stars.
Levi wrapped an arm around me, and I leaned against him. I wiped a few years away, but the grief wasn’t overwhelming. It lingered in my heart like a memory.
“He loved you,” Levi said, after we’d stood in silence for a long time. “He loved you like crazy. If he bossed you around, it was only because he loved you.”
“I know.” I looked up at Levi, loving him—his strength, his passion, his courage. And his tender heart. “He loved you too.”
Levi was quiet for a moment before he admitted, “I miss him.”
“Me too.”
He leaned down to kiss me.
“I think he’d be glad we’re together,” I said, wrapping both my arms around him.
“No, he wouldn’t. He would beat me up if I even thought about touching you.”
I giggled. “He would have gotten over that. Then he’d be happy.”
“I hope so.”
After a few minutes, by mutual agreement, we turned to walk away from the quiet grave. “Thank you for changing your plans,” I said, as I climbed in the car.
“Of course. Just be preparing yourself for the night of your life tomorrow.”
“I’m prepared. I’m expecting champagne and oysters and rose petals and candlelight.”
He snorted. “You’ll get cheap beer and like it. What kind of a man do you think you’re screwing?”
I laughed, the weight of poignancy from earlier disappearing completely. I reached over to cup his face with one hand, and I know he saw the deep feeling in my eyes because his face transformed with a similar softness for just a moment.
Then he cleared his throat and started the car. “Since you’ve obviously forgotten, I’ll have to remind you what kind of man you’re screwing just as soon as we get home.”
“Dream on, buddy. I already told you I’m all sexed out for today and you’re not getting laid tonight.”
He gave me a smug smile. “We’ll see.”
So I like to believe I’m a woman of principle, and I would never cave to an arrogant man, no matter how hot he happened to be.
But occasionally an exception has to be made.
Levi did end up getting laid that night after all.
Levi
“Another round?” I asked.
Everyone spoke up in agreement, so I motioned to the waitress to bring over another pitcher of beer before relaxing back in my seat, looking at the three guys who would always be my best friends.
“So how’s Harper doing?” Sebastian asked.
I couldn’t help the smile that crept across my face. “She’s good.”
“Aw, would you look at that,” Cole said as he reached over and slapped me on the shoulder. “I think he’s blushing. Isn’t he cute?”
I wanted to tell him to shut up, but the truth was, ever since Harper had shown up at my place with the plant, I couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Life was good, and I didn’t doubt for one second that I was blushing. Just thinking about Harper and how we’d been reconnecting with one another was more than enough reason to blush.
“Leave him alone,” Declan said. “It’s obvious that he’s having a moment. Chicks do that kind of thing.”
They all broke out in laughter, and even I joined in. Yeah, I was having a moment, and I was okay with it. I planned on having a lot more moments with Harper. A lifetime of them. A fresh pitcher appeared, and Sebastian did the honors of refilling everyone’s mugs.
“How’s the building going?” he asked.
I took a drink before answering. “It’s going great. We were fortunate that there weren’t any structural issues and all of the drywall is up and the painters start on Monday. If everything keeps going at this pace, we’ll be having a ribbon cutting in about three weeks.”
“That’s great,” Seb said. “Really. I’m glad that you found something you’re enjoying.”
“Other than Harper,” Cole added with a laugh.
I almost reached over the table to deck him, but I chose to take the high road. “Yeah, doing the building has definitely been good. But you know what? It’s not something I see myself doing long-term.”
“So what are you going to do?” Declan asked.
It was something that had been niggling at the back of my mind for a little while now, something Harper had kept wanting me to think about. I hadn’t discussed it with the guys yet, and I was waiting for a night just like this to present it. “Actually, I was thinking of how good it felt when I was helping Harper.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Cole said with a snicker.
“Not like that, you ass. I mean that it was kind of invigorating to figure out the mystery behind it all—the investigating, the protection, knowing that I could help someone that way.”
This time there were no snide comments. Declan leaned forward on the table. “What are you saying?”
I shrugged. “I realize that Harper was a unique case. She’s Gavin’s sister, and the situation just sort of landed in my lap. I didn’t come back here to be a PI or a bodyguard, but that’s what I ended up doing. And I think that I did a pretty good job at it.” I looked over at Sebastian. “I think we worked well together.”
Seb nodded. “So what are you thinking? That you want to start some sort of security agency or something?”
I looked at the three of them. It was exactly what I was thinking. “I do. I think that we could be good at it. We could all be good at it.”
Cole made a face. “You mean the four of us?”
“Absolutely. I think we’re all at a point in our lives when we’re looking to do something with our training, something with a purpose. I think we’d be good at this. We’d all bring something to the table.” I took another swallow of beer. “What do you think?”
Declan ran a hand over his face. “How would we possibly get started? I mean, you said it yourself, the situation with Harper just sort of happened. How would we find clients?”
I looked over at Sebastian, who met my gaze with a knowing look. He said, “I think I might have a connection or two that could get us started. I might also be able to dig up the start-up costs.”
“I don’t know,” Declan said. “It seems kind of iffy. What if we never get a case?”
“What if we get more than one?” I asked. “I’m not saying we should all give up our day jobs right away, but I think we should consider it. What do you say?”
We looked at each other for a minute. Then, just like I remember doing as a kid, I put my hand out in the middle of the table. Sebastian placed his on top of mine and Cole on top of his.
“Oh, what the hell,” Declan said as he slapped his hand on the top of the pile. “Let’s do this stupid thing.”
Three months ago, I’d been a man without purpose, with no hope for the future. Things weren’t all perfect now. There were still questions about the accident that caused Gavin’s death that lingered in my mind sometimes—waiting for an answer. But something important had transformed about my world.
I had Harper at home now. And, as I sat there and clinked glasses in a toast with my friends, I realized my future was suddenly brimming with possibilities.
I couldn’t wait to get started.
Noelle handwrote her first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.
She loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out her website:
noelle-adams.com
.
Other Books by Noelle Adams
One Hot Night: Three Contemporary Romance Novellas
Excerpt from Salvation
“I’m not trying to make choices for you.” Gideon’s voice was rough with impatience. “I just think you’re not letting yourself get back into life, and I don’t see how it can possibly be good for you.”
“I’ll decide what’s good for me,” I gritted out, using the same words I’d used before because I couldn’t think of another reply. “I don’t want to go.”
“Okay. Fine.” He leaned back against the couch, taking another gulp of his beer, and I could tell he wasn’t happy with me.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t happy with him either.
I felt frustrated and jittery and upset, and I really needed him to leave soon so I could get back on the elliptical trainer.
“Did you hurt your arm?” Gideon asked.
I blinked in surprise, and he nodded down at my arm, which I was still rubbing compulsively.
I dropped my hand immediately. “Not really. It’s just a little tendonitis or something.”
He reached over and took my wrist in his hand, and I jerked away from him.
“What the hell?” he asked, his eyes searching my face in that intrusive way again. “I was just going to rub it for you.”
I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want him to touch me. I wanted him to just go away so I could push myself into battered oblivion again. But, if I objected, it would just give him more ammunition for his concerns, so I relented and stretched my arm out.
He took it again and very gently started to rub the inside of my wrist.
I tried to relax back against the couch so he wouldn’t see that it bothered me. His eyes were focused on the television, as if his massage was simply an afterthought, hardly on his radar at all. But his touch seemed strangely careful, starting softly and growing more firm as he moved slowly from my wrist up to my elbow.
He had to touch me over my sleeve as he moved up my arm, since I was wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt. It was a warm night, but I felt safer without any skin showing, so I never wore tanks and shorts anymore.
He didn’t say anything. He seemed to be thinking only about sports. But he kept up the massage for a long time.
It actually felt good. Really good. Easing the sore muscles, soothing them with pressure, causing pleasant sensations to ripple up through my shoulder. His fingers were strong and gentle at the same time, and I didn’t really understand how they could be both.
I took a shuddering breath and tried to pretend I wasn’t reacting. But I was. I was.
I didn’t want it to feel good. My body couldn’t feel good. It didn’t match how the rest of me felt, and so it was a jarring incongruity. Upsetting in a way I couldn’t articulate.
Something inside me was shaking, but I used all the will I could muster to force it down, to keep the shaking from moving into my body.
He was just rubbing my forearm. He hadn’t even moved past my elbow.
He’d massaged back down to my wrist, and I thought he was nearly finished. But then he started up my arm again, and this time his fingers were under the fabric, pushing up my sleeve as he went.
It felt even better and even worse. He was touching my skin, and the resulting sensations were pleasant, soothing, really good. And I simply couldn’t feel good.
For the first time, I looked over at him, trying to figure out a way to tell him to stop without worrying or offending him. But, as I looked over, I saw he wasn’t watching TV anymore. He was looking down at my inner forearm and the inside of my elbow.
And I knew—I knew—what he was doing. He was checking it. Because I always wore long sleeves. He was checking to see if I was cutting myself or doing drugs or something. He was using the excuse of the massage to pry even more.
I jerked my arm out of his grip and glared at him coldly, pushing my sleeve back down.
He saw the look and understood it. He knew I knew what he’d been doing and how I felt about it, so I didn’t have to say anything.
He wasn’t actually wrong. It just wasn’t taking the form he suspected.
***
You can find more information about Salvation
here
.