Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) (22 page)
Read Patrick's Promise (Cloverleaf #3) Online
Authors: Gloria Herrmann
Patrick opened the door and there stood Amber, her arm in a sling and Dylan standing next to her, balancing several boxes of pizza.
“Dylan,” Finn and Connor squealed together as they pushed past Patrick and tugged on the older boy’s shirt. “Come on, we want to play with you before we start the movie.”
It was Friday. Their tradition continued, except now two more people were included.
Amber came inside and instructed Dylan where to set the boxes. On her way to the kitchen, Patrick stopped her. He gently scooped her into his arms and kissed her delicately on the lips.
“Movie and pizza okay?”
“It’s Friday, that’s why I brought the pizza, and I held up my end of the bargain. Now I’m expecting you to honor yours. So, what movie are we watching?” Amber replied playfully.
“True. I have something I want to show you.” Patrick reached for her hand and led her through his kitchen and out to the patio, where Finn, Connor, and Dylan all stood, giggling.
“What’s going on?” Amber asked suspiciously. Then she saw it. Her eyes grew wide, and her hand covered her mouth. A bright green bicycle was parked there, a brown basket attached between the handle bars.
“Surprise,” the kids all shouted.
Amber’s eyes were filled with tears. Patrick brought her to him, and Dylan walked up carrying a bicycle helmet and handed it to him.
“Next time you go riding, wear this, please.”
Amber laughed, and Patrick brushed his lips across her forehead. “Do you like it?”
“I love it. Thank you so much.” Amber looped her good arm around his neck and stood on the tips of her toes to reach his sweet lips that smiled as she kissed him.
July was now gone, and so many things had changed. Patrick felt like his whole life, which had been derailed four years ago, was now finally back on track. Summer was not quite over, and they planned to enjoy every last minute of it, together.
Daniel
Antlers was hopping tonight, music blaring from the aging jukebox, with laughter and drunken chatter filling the room. Daniel was sitting at the bar, alone, and working on his third drink. He swirled the amber liquid, watching the partially melted ice cubes bang against the sides of the glass. His eyes stared ahead, the walls of the darkly lit bar had countless horns, or
racks,
as they were known as in Birch Valley. Most were the products of successful hunts and mounted by the owner himself. It made the place legendary.
He didn’t come to that Antlers often, but when he did, it was either to shoot some pool with a couple of his buddies or to hang out with his brothers, to share a pitcher of beer and some rattlesnake skins, which were delicious pieces of onion coated in spicy batter and deep fried; they were a favorite treat for everyone in town. His brothers, that’s why he was here. He hadn’t spent much time with them the last couple of weeks. Liam was now a newlywed, and Patrick had finally overcome the grief of being widowed for more than four years by meeting a woman that Daniel was sure would probably end up becoming the next Mrs. O’Brien. Not that he didn’t want his brothers to find love and live happily ever after, but what about him? Why wasn’t he able to meet “the one”? It was as though these women that his brothers met just fell into their lives. They didn’t have to go on some hunt to find their perfect match; it just came easily to them. Daniel, for some reason, struggled when it came to finding love. He considered the reasons behind his struggle. For starters, he didn’t really look like Patrick, who had been known as the most attractive guy in all of Birch Valley their entire lives. Liam was the boy next door; he played up on this, flashing the stupid grin that all the women found extremely sexy, and it had obviously worked on Rachel too. No, what did Daniel have? Sure, he had the almost starry, famed O’Brien emerald green eyes, but he wasn’t tall like his brothers, he didn’t have their strong jaw, or their athletic, lean muscular build. No, he was shorter, stockier, and his jaw was rounded. He always looked almost jolly; he wasn’t traditionally handsome like his brothers. Deep down he wished he looked more like them. It had always bothered him, but he never shared this desire with them. He didn’t disclose that he felt almost ugly at times, that his over-exaggerated confidence was just a facade, hiding his low self-esteem and great deal of self-doubt.
It was his self-doubt that kept him from pursuing girls. He feared rejection above all, usually relying on jokes as a half-hearted attempt to make it look like nothing. He hadn’t really been in a serious relationship ever, he was nearing thirty in a couple of years, and it bothered him. He was lonely it was as simple as that.
Daniel put the glass to his lips, when he heard a familiar female voice call out to him. “Hey Daniel.” Nina Belsky, in all her tan and blonde glory, sidled up next to him. “You should buy me a drink.”
He poured that last remaining contents in his glass down his throat. It burned. The sensation caused a blinding effect; his brain was becoming a tad fuzzy as he looked at the gorgeous Nina. Her hand was on her jean-clad hip; the jeans were almost molded to her long legs like a second skin. She wore a sparkly white top, which was almost sheer, the material flimsy and thin, and the spaghetti straps bright against her golden skin. Nina’s blonde hair was swept up in a careless knot, loose strands curled around her neck. Her pouty lips were stained the deep color of a rich, red wine, the kind he remembered having to drink for communion. Nina batted her thick, black lashes at him and placed one delicate hand with painted nails on his arm. This was a girl who was used to getting what she wanted. And right now, she wanted a drink.
Daniel tapped the ancient wooden counter to get the attention of the bartender and signaled for him to make two drinks. Maybe she was “the one”?
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About the Author
I was born and raised in southern California and relocated to beautiful eastern Washington state. The rural small towns that speckle this vast area have inspired my ideal setting for most of the stories I write. The pine and tamarack trees covering the towering mountains, the shimmering lakes and rivers, the abundant wildlife and a feeling of a time forgotten, stirs so many of my creative juices. I can’t thank my parents enough for dragging this city kid on long roadtrips up to this rugged foreign area, because now it is my home and I truly love my life here.
Reading was something that spurred me to begin writing at a young age. I enjoyed creating characters, different settings, and describing anything and everything. Storytelling, I have found is something I have inherited from both of my parents. I love attention to detail, using words to fully bring the picture alive, that is something I got from my dad. Creating characters and figuring out their story and how to achieve their happy ending comes from my mom. Then there is the smell of a book, new or old, the weight of it in your hands as you balance it open, seeing all those beautifully typed words spun and woven into sentences, this was created by a writer. I knew that was what I wanted to be when I grew up.
Over the years I fiddled with a story here and there, but it wasn’t until 2015 that I realized it was time. Time to get those dreams down on paper (or my laptop) and so The Cloverleaf Series was born. Coming from a family that is focused on being involved in each other’s lives as much as possible created a great deal of inspiration and ideas for The Cloverleaf Series. My family is one that has weathered several terrible storms and still somehow keeps propelling forward. During those sunny times we can be seen gathered around, eating good food, sharing memories, and laughing until we can’t catch our breath. We fight hard and love hard.
Romance, I simply love it, that’s why I write it. I remember my mom giving me my very first paperback romance novel. It was a pretty exciting one filled with suspense and an overall excellent storyline, she had just read it and she felt it was suitable for my teenage eyes. That was it, I was hooked. I began to devour these romance stories that varied over the years from sweet to sultry, I consumed thousands of books and stories over the years. Each time I finished reading a novel, the desire to write my own grew stronger. As ideas for books swirled in my mind, it always had a romantic element to it, and I suppose it always will. What is there not to love about falling in love and finding that special person to share your life with? Who doesn’t wish for passion, butterflies in your stomach, and that happily ever after?
As a reader, I can’t even begin to thank all of the writers that have created so many emotions for me, falling in love with characters, mourning their loss, sighing as I close the final chapter or smiling when everyone lives happily ever after. As a writer, I just want to do the same.
