Saving You (10 page)

For the first time since she resigned from
the APD Lucy felt like she was part of a family of like-minded
souls. She had missed this—missed working with a team to help make
the world better. Stepping back into the familiar roll felt right,
and she planned to have a talk with the Summerville Police as soon
as she recovered from today’s adventure. She was ready to be useful
again, past ready.

Several moments later, Mick and Faith
finally stopped hugging long enough for Mick to tow the boat into
shore. The water was too shallow for the motor and Mick could get
them to dry land faster than Neil could with the single wooden
paddle they’d brought with them. But the second the bottom of the
boat scraped blacktop, Mick was lifting Faith out of the boat and
into his arms, carrying her to the waiting ambulance like a knight
in soggy armor.

Lucy, Brandon, and Neil—who carried the
poor, tired dog—crawled out of the boat and were greeted by a
rescue team bearing blankets and enthusiastic congratulations. Lucy
accepted a blanket—she wasn’t cold, but she knew it felt good to do
something for people you were concerned about—and turned to find
Brandon shaking Jake’s hand.

Jake’s eyes shifted and a huge smile
stretched across his face. It was the biggest grin she’d ever seen
on the eldest Hansen brother and made him look at least five years
younger.

“
Thank you, Lucy,” Jake
said, stepping toward her, pulling her into an unexpectedly fierce
hug. “Thank you for finding our Faith.”

By the time he’d finished squeezing her,
Lucy was breathless, but so happy she didn’t mind. This was what
she did, this was part of the reason she was put on this earth.
Sure, sometimes she failed and the lost people weren’t found, but
sometimes she was the only thing standing between “in time” and
“too late.” She’d been a coward to step away from her gift, no
matter how much pain she’d been in.

As Jake set her down and shook her hand—once
again with a little too much force, as if he were so relieved he no
longer realized his own strength—Lucy swore not to be a coward
again. She wanted to be brave. She might need a reminder not to
chicken out now and then, but Brandon would help her. He was the
type of man who helped his partner keep her promises.

She was ready to make another promise, too,
one to the sexy firefighter looping his arm around her shoulders
and holding her close to his side.

She kept her peace until she and Brandon
were tucked into the back of a police car, headed back toward
downtown Summerville, before she leaned over and whispered, “I was
wrong. Jamison’s not my firefighter spirit animal. You are.”

Brandon smiled down at her, his pale skin
glowing in the fading sunset light streaming through the cruiser’s
rear window. “Glad to hear it. You’re my spirit animal, too. And
I’m falling in love with you. Hope that’s okay.”

Lucy sighed happily. “It’s perfect, because
I’m falling in love with you, too.”

Brandon’s smiled widened. “That works
out.”

“
It does,” Lucy agreed,
nodding as she leaned even closer, nudging Brandon’s shoulder with
her own. “So I think we should make this thing exclusive, don’t
you? Go for the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing?”

“
Let’s go bigger,” Brandon
said, a challenge in his tone and a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Why don’t you move in with me tomorrow?”

“
Why don’t you propose to
me next week?” Lucy said, upping the ante.

“
Why don’t we elope next
weekend?” Brandon said, grinning. “We could fly to Vegas and get
married. I’ve got four days off and enough money for plane tickets
and a wedding ring.”

Lucy laughed. “You should watch it Mr., and
remember who you’re dealing with. I’m just crazy enough to take you
up on that offer.”

“
You’re not crazy; you’re
perfect,” Brandon said, and then he kissed her and
it
was perfect, the kind
of kiss that made promises intended to be kept, that banished the
darkness, leaving nothing but love and light.

As they continued to kiss all the way back
to Summerville—ignoring the officer who occasionally cleared his
throat uncomfortably from the front seat—she began to think Faith
wasn’t the only person who’d been saved today. For the first time
in a long time, Lucy felt fully awake and alive and ready to find
out what the future would hold. A future with the man in her arms,
and all the people in Summerville she’d come to love.

It sounded as lovely as Brandon’s kiss, and
as uplifting as the sun shining through the window, proving there
was always an end to the rain.

***

Did you enjoy SAVING YOU by Jessie Evans? If
so, please take a moment to rate and review at the retailer(s) of
your choice. Jessie appreciates your time and loves hearing from
readers.

Always a Bridesmaid Series

BETTING ON YOU (Always a Bridesmaid Book
One)

KEEPING YOU (Always a Bridesmaid Book
Two)

WILD FOR YOU (Always a Bridesmaid Book
Three)

CATCHING YOU (Always a Bridesmaid Four-Short
Story)

TAKING YOU (Always a Bridesmaid
Five-Novella/Short Novel)

Fire and Icing Series

MELT WITH YOU (Fire and Icing Book One)

HOT FOR YOU (Fire and Icing Book Two)

SWEET TO YOU (Fire and Icing Book Three)

PERFECT FOR YOU (Fire and Icing Book
Four-Short Story)

SAVING YOU (Fire and Icing Book
Five-Novella/Short Novel)

Cupid Island Novellas (Short Novels)

AUDITIONING YOU (Cupid Island Two)

A Cupid Island Christmas Anthology by Jessie
Evans, Lila Ashe, and Ruby Laska

Join Jessie’s newsletter to
stay up-to-date on new releases and newsletter-only coupons:
http://eepurl.com/FbwUb

Visit Jessie on
Facebook
or
Twitter

Or keep reading for a
free sample chapter from BETTING ON YOU, Book 1 in the “Always a
Bridesmaid” series.

About the Author

Jessie Evans gave up a career as an international woman of
mystery to write the sexy, contemporary Southern romances she
always wanted to read.

She's married to the man of her dreams, and
together they're raising a few adorable, mischievous children in a
tree house in the boonies. She grew up in rural Arkansas, spending
summers running wild, being chewed by chiggers, and now appreciates
her home in a chigger-free part of the world even more. 

When she's not writing, Jessie enjoys
playing her dulcimer (badly), sewing the worlds ugliest quilts to
give to her friends, going for bike rides with her house full of
boys, and wandering the woods, glass of wine and camera both in
hand, on the lookout for Bigfoot.

A Southern girl, born and bred, Jessie loves
writing Southern romances with just the right amount of sizzle, and
hopes you'll enjoy her stories set in the fictional town of
Summerville, Georgia.

Please enjoy this excerpt
of
Betting On You

By Jessie Evans

Chapter One

The night before her best friend, Lisa’s,
wedding—and her seventh turn as a bridesmaid—Lark March had all of
her weirdest anxiety dreams.

Every. Single. One.

Babysitting her sister, Aria’s, baby and she
loses the eight-month-old in the stuffed animal collection?

Check.

Crawling through a miniature Dutch pancake
house with doors too small for her to squeeze through while “It’s a
Small World” plays on endless repeat?

Check.

Getting knocked over the head, blacking out,
and waking up in the middle of the early church service her Nana
hasn’t missed in thirty-five years, wearing nothing but a fine
layer of caramel corn stuck to her body like a bad cat suit and a
bubblegum bow in her hair?

Check and check.

(She’d had that one twice, because
apparently one “naked and covered in candy in front of old people”
dream wasn’t enough for her subconscious.)

As a result of all the panicked dreaming,
Lark woke up exhausted.

Exhausted, on the biggest
day of her best friend’s life, not to mention the biggest catering
job of Lark’s career.
Ever After
Catering
had been growing steadily since
she started the business three years ago, but she’d never handled
an event like Lisa’s reception.

There was going to be a twenty-foot
appetizer buffet, a sit down steak or salmon dinner for three
hundred people, and a dessert spread featuring a five tier wedding
cake, three different kinds of groom’s cake—Lisa’s soon-to-be
husband and his two brothers all had very strong, but very
opposing, views on cake—cupcakes with sprinkles for the kids,
chocolate pie for Lisa’s Gran, an edible ice sculpture, and a white
chocolate fountain.

And, out of all that, the
ice sculpture was the
only
thing Lark, her two sisters, and her staff of four
weren’t making themselves.

Even knowing the cakes were mostly done and
waiting at the venue, the salmon was marinating in her industrial
fridge, and the salad was sitting in giant containers, just waiting
to be tossed with homemade honey-lemon dressing, wasn’t enough to
keep Lark’s hands from shaking as she shoved a change of clothes
and her lucky apron into a duffle bag and snagged her bridesmaid’s
dress from the closet. She was always a little nervous before a big
job, but today was worse than usual. Today had to be perfect, not
only for Lisa, but for all the guests attending the reception.

At least six of Lisa’s friends from college
were planning weddings in the next year. Booking even three more
“big time” receptions could help Lark take her business to the next
level, allowing her to compete with more established catering
companies in Atlanta.

She had to pull this off without a hitch.
There was no room for error, and certainly no time for a nap.

Three cups of coffee kept her going through
the epic beauty salon appointment, and crying like a baby as she
watched her best friend since preschool get married kept her
conscious through the receiving line and the wedding party
pictures, but by the time she arrived at the venue—a lovely old
home on the historic register about five miles outside of
Summerville, Georgia—she was pinching herself to stay awake.

But as soon as she walked through the door
to the new, super-sized kitchen the owners had added onto the home
when they decided to rent it out for events, the job-in-progress
adrenaline thankfully kicked in.

“
How are the potatoes? Are
they ready for the warmers?” Lark asked as she bustled into the
room, tying her lucky apron on over her bridesmaid’s
dress.

In the end, she’d been too nervous to take
the time to change before heading over. She was just going to have
to cook in floor-length red taffeta.

“
Are they done?” Lark asked
again, squinting at the stove. “We’re going to need the oven for
the last minute apps in less than ten minutes.”

“
Hello to you, too,” Aria,
Lark’s older sister, grumbled from the far corner of the kitchen,
where she was bent over the wedding cake with a tube of frosting,
adding a few last minute iced tulips.

At five-seven and barely one hundred and
twenty pounds, Aria was the slimmest of the March sisters,
unreasonably scrawny for a pastry chef, and, lately, about as sweet
as a packet of damp Sweet N Low. Ever since she had separated from
her husband and moved back to Summerville five months ago, she
seemed to have misplaced her sense of fun.

Lark had learned to put up
with Aria’s new and
un
improved personality transplant, but she had to admit she
missed the big sister who used to play pranks on their parents and
stay up all night giving her sisters makeovers and telling silly
stories about the guys she dated.

“
You’re here!” Melody, the
youngest March daughter, bounded across the room with a squeal,
clapping her hands. “How was the wedding? Oh, my gosh, was it
amazing? Was Lisa beautiful? Did Matt cry? Did
you
cry?”

“
Great. Of course, a
little, and of course,” Lark said, laughing as Melody pulled her in
for a giddy hug.

Melody loved weddings almost as much as she
loved to cook and only slightly less than she loved to eat. Her
commitment to all things culinary meant that she had graduated from
culinary school only one year behind Lark, even though Lark was two
and a half years older.

The sisters shared a love of preparing food,
the same long, sandy blonde hair and brown eyes, and the same
gently rounded figures that gave testimony to the fact that they
hit the cheese board more often than the gym. When they were
younger, people often mistook them for twins, until Melody hit a
growth spurt and left Lark behind. Now, when five-foot-two Lark
stood between her taller sisters, she looked like a book with a
pair of mismatched bookends.

No one knew where Aria’s
red hair and green eyes had come from. There were rumors of a
ginger-headed great-grandmother on their father’s side, but they
were unsubstantiated. If Aria didn’t have their dad’s nose and
freakishly long fingers—or if all three of the Summerville postmen
weren’t actually post
women
—Lark knew there would have been
jokes made.