Leaving Las Vegas (Entangled Ignite) (21 page)

For real.

Her heart fluttered against her rib cage, filling up her chest until she felt like she was bursting inside. With the pop of a few remaining fireworks going off in the distance, spreading pins of green and red lights scattering through the sky, she stroked his face. Her gaze met his. She smiled.

“Then welcome home, Luke. Welcome to Beaux.”

Epilogue

“Glory!” The cheer from the crowd packed into the diner was deafening, over a hundred people packed into the tiny space with more pouring out onto the patio in the back. All the tables had been pushed back against the wall. They were loaded down with food. Bowls of pasta salad, brownies, and hot dogs. Cara May was doling out punch in the corner, smacking the hand of anyone who tried to snag a cup without waiting in line. Justin and Mrs. Marsters were trading insults at the kitchen grill. Ashley had cut out early. It was a beautiful day on the lake, and the oldest Allen sister had gone fishing.

Dressed in a pink sundress with white lace around the hem, Glory stood in the middle of the room, trying to enjoy herself. It was her party after all—sort of a celebration for her return—and the entire town was there. Men, women, and children, all glad to have her back.

The only one missing was Luke.

He’d had to fly back to Nevada four days earlier. But before he’d left, he’d made one thing clear: he wasn’t living his life without her. In fact, he wasn’t going to continue living in Las Vegas. Everything he could do to run his business he could do in Beaux. Still, moving his business from Las Vegas to Beaux was a complicated procedure, and he needed to be in Nevada to oversee things from that end.

He’d also spent time with the district attorney, making sure as many charges as possible were leveled against Chester, Tiffanette, and their crew. Luke’s team of private investigators had tracked down all parties involved, and Tiffanette and Chester had left Beaux in handcuffs. Shackles around their ankles. Chains.

It was just what they deserved.

The party should have brought her happiness and joy, but something was missing.

Luke.

Her heart ached. She had half a notion to pull out her new cell phone and dial his number, just to give him a piece of her mind. How long could moving a billion-dollar company take?

A crowd surrounded Glory in a whirlwind of friendly arms and the crisp scent of line-dried laundry. A woman in a green hat handed her a plate of food while Nancy Miller dispatched her daughter to get a cup of punch. Food. Friends. Fun. But no Luke.

“Gloria Allen.”

Luke’s voice was loud, thundering. It still took her a moment to realize it hadn’t just been wishful thinking. He was here. Really here. The crowd parted, giggles filling the cramped room. All the citizens of Beaux making room for the commanding man who’d called Glory’s name.

Flashing green eyes, strong good looks, and packed into a three-piece suit. Charcoal gray with pale pinstripes, custom-tailored to fit his broad shoulders. His shirt was snowy linen, his tie was a deep scarlet. Shiny. Silk.

“The name’s Glory,” she said.

He wrapped his arms around her, leaning into a kiss of cinematic proportions. This time the only fireworks were the ones racing across her body, but they were the only ones she needed.

“Damn it, Glory, I missed you.”

“Damn is a bad word,” a child called out helpfully from the crowd.

“I love you,” Luke murmured in her ear. His large hands moved all over her body. Sparks flew, and suddenly he was the only other person in the room. His lips brushed against hers.

“I love you, too,” she said before losing herself in another kiss.

When Luke came up for air, he grabbed her arm and pulled her through the cheering crowd, out onto the street. A set of keys materialized in his hands and he unlocked the door to a car parked right in front of the diner. Not the James Bond car that they’d taken cross-country, but something else. A classic convertible painted cherry red. Old-fashioned American muscle. A Ford Mustang.

“Like it?” Luke asked, retrieving the keys from his pocket. “I thought that it might be a little more practical than the Aston Martin.”

There was absolutely nothing practical about the Mustang. Glory loved it. Taking a running start, she clambered in and took a seat. One hand resting on Luke’s shoulder, another arm hanging out the window. He hit the gas pedal, sending the car rocketing forward through Beaux’s tree-lined streets. For a moment, Glory thought they were heading out of town, up past The Crossroads Tavern, toward the highway and freedom.

Then the steering wheel spun the other direction, and they were flying past the DuSang house, the church, and the hundred-year-old apple orchard. It was only a matter of time until they would get to the lake. Her stomach turned.

“Luke?” She hadn’t seen Black Lake’s clear blue waters since the explosion, and she didn’t know if she could handle it. The property Dandelion House had once sat on had been bought. The town had been too late to save it. The harebrained scheme to send her to Vegas to win a fortune and save the town had been a gamble Beaux had lost. And her heart ached because of it.

“Let’s grab some food and have a picnic in the woods,” she said quickly. “I can show you the local Lover’s Lane.”

Anything to avoid seeing the lake. The place where her memories of her mother were the strongest. Where she would go with Ashley to sit in silence and let the fish nibble on their lines. Where she’d taught Hallie how to do a double flip off Dandelion House’s roof.

One more turn and the water would come into view.

Luke squeezed her knee. “The surprise is coming up. You should probably close your eyes.”

Close her eyes. Part of her wanted to argue. She didn’t want to risk missing anything, but she was already squeezing her eyes shut and wondering what the surprise could be. A million different possibilities ran through her mind, and then Luke was telling her to open up. Her eyelids flickered.

For a moment everything ran together.

Then she saw it. “Dandelion House.”

Not the same Dandelion House, of course. The old Victorian had been destroyed in the explosion and the debris had been carted away using giant metal Dumpsters that rumbled on their way through town. She’d figured the man in charge of the cleanup operation was Ashley’s evil developer, getting ready to build his resort.

Instead, a single-wide trailer sat to the side of where the old house had been. The trailer had been painted the brightest yellow imaginable, but nothing could disguise the chipped window glass or the crooked front stoop. It was her trailer, her home, planted all around with a hundred different flowers. The same kind of flowers in her grandmother’s garden. A lump gathered in her throat. “You bought Dandelion House.”

A nod of Luke’s head. He took his foot off the gas, letting the car coast toward the land in question. “That morning at Conan’s. That was the call I needed to make.”

“But I told you not to—” Her heart stuck in her throat. “I said those horrible things.”

“You were right.” Luke gave her a soft smile. “I was buying it for all the wrong reasons. Now I know better. Dandelion House shouldn’t be owned by some out-of-town businessman. It should be enjoyed by someone who wants to swim in the lake every day.”

She couldn’t breathe.

His fingers squeezed her arm, every touch electrifying. “I put Ashley in charge of hauling your trailer up here and sent a whole team of men from Las
Vegas to put it back together. We’ll build a real house eventually. Something with more than one bedroom.”

Every word hung in the air like spun silver, tantalizing.

“I’m talking about forever, Glory. Marriage, kids, the whole nine yards.” He kissed her, soft, fleeting, a promise of more to come. “All you have to do is say ‘I do.’”

“I do.” Glory’s heart was slamming against her rib cavity. Her head was spinning. “I mean—I will. Yes!” she said. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.” Her entire life she’d wanted something more than wild stories and a family history that she’d never be able to live down, but she’d never known what that elusive something was until she’d met Luke. “I love you.”

Going to Las Vegas, she’d gambled everything for love. And ultimately, she’d won.

Acknowledgements

I’d like to thank the Academy, but I’ll settle for thanking everyone who has supported me along the way: good family, great friends, and a kick-ass editor. Go team!

About the Author

Aleah Barley is a writer of funny (she hopes) contemporary romance novels. After recently moving to Detroit, she would like everyone to know that the rumors are true: It is a post-apocalyptic wasteland full of abandoned buildings, zombies, and hipster coffee shops that don’t open before nine in the morning. It’s also a great place to live. Really. Promise. She spends her days working hard to make the world a better place and her nights writing about kick-ass women who know how to live life to the fullest and the men who love them because of it.

She’ll do anything for a box of chocolates. Or ice cream.

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