CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Epilogue

 

“You up?” Liam asked.

“Nope.”

“Come on, wake up,” he insisted, gently poking me in the side.

We’d been together six months, living together for four. In all that time, not one morning had passed that I hadn’t woken up to the smell of fresh-brewed coffee coming from my kitchen. This morning, there was no such aroma.

“You know what I need,” I said.

“Shit, Em, didn’t we just do that a couple of hours ago?”

“Ha, ha. You know what I mean.”

I cracked an eye open and looked at him. He was standing by the side of the bed, one hand behind his back.

“I think this is more important than coffee,” he said.

I sat up, suddenly wide awake. This was very un-Liam-like behaviour.

“What’s up?” I asked.

He pulled a large envelope from behind his back.

“You got mail,” he said, handing it over.

I took the envelope, looking at the front. It was addressed to me, and the return address was the last publishing company I’d submitted to. I was up to seven rejections at this point and had just about given up. I took a deep breath, opened the envelope, and pulled out its contents. I studied them for a moment before looking up at Liam. There was an anxious look in his eye.

“It’s a publishing contract,” I said, in shock.

“YESSSS!” he screamed, doing a victory lap around the bed before taking a giant leap and landing in his spot next to mine on the mattress.

He grabbed me, pulling me into an enormous bear hug. I laughed, unsure of what felt better—receiving this incredible news, or the fact that I had someone to share it with who was just as excited as I was. I pulled him down with me into the pillows, burying my face in the space between his shoulder and his neck. My most favourite spot.

“Get up, I’ll take you to brunch and we’ll celebrate,” he said.

I lifted my head and peered out the window into the January winter wonderland that lay outside.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Looks cold. Why don’t we do our celebrating right here?”

He grinned wickedly and smacked my ass.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” he asked.

“Well, I’m working on this scene in my new book. Not so sure about the feasibility of it…” I reached down into the waist of his sweats and found him hard and ready for me.

“I think I get the picture,” he said, his voice husky.

I tilted my head up for a kiss and he obliged. I stroked him, and he worked his pants off before reaching up to cup one of my breasts. I was still naked from our early-morning romp, after which I’d fallen into a deep sleep. Monday mornings with Liam were the best.

“That feels—” I started, but he cut me off with another kiss.

His hands were everywhere and my body was on fire. No matter how often we had sex, it was never enough. My thirst for him was unquenchable, and from the way he devoured my body, I knew he felt the same. He bent his head and took one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently as I moaned. His hand worked my other breast and my head was spinning. He slid his other hand down below my waist. I was so wet his finger just slid in, easily finding its way to the magical spot that sent me off into orbit.

“I want you in my mouth,” I managed to get out.

He got to his knees by my head, his hand still working between my legs. I reached up and took him in my hand, stroking him a few times before reaching out with my tongue to taste him.

“Oh, god, Em.”

I wrapped my mouth around him, sliding my tongue up and down and I pulled him deeper into my throat. I felt his knees buckle before he reached over with his spare hand to brace himself against the wall. His thumb found my clit and he pinched lightly before starting to rub me rhythmically, driving me towards a sure orgasm. He’d gotten to the point where he could make me come in under two minutes. But once he’d done it, he’d refused to do it again. No, Liam much preferred teasing me, drawing out my pleasure.

My hips came up off the bed and I cupped his balls, squeezing lightly as I traced a line up his shaft with my tongue. He increased his speed with his thumb as he started to fuck my mouth. I looked up at him and our eyes met, his hooded and shining with desire. I exploded into my orgasm, surrounded by bright colour and intense waves of pleasure as he pulled his cock out of my mouth, repositioning himself on top of me.

“For a guy who doesn’t do missionary,” I said, “you seem to do a lot of missionary.”

“I fucking love watching your face when you come on my cock,” he growled, leaning down to bite my neck as he slid into me.

He thrust once, twice, and then stilled. I used the opportunity to roll him over onto his back, never breaking our connection, as I straddled his waist. I grabbed his hands and put them on my breasts. He needed no further instruction as I started to ride him.

“Was this was you had in mind?” he asked.

“Almost,” I panted.

I lifted my hips, letting him slide out as I swung one leg over and repositioned myself so I was facing his feet.

“Ah, the good old reverse cowgirl,” he laughed.

“This has a name?” I asked.

“Still so much to teach you. You know, for a romance writer, fuck—” He stopped talking the moment I slid back onto him. I couldn’t blame him. The angle was exquisite.

I started to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed. The length of his cock slid along my clit as I rode up and down, and I reached down, applying more pressure with my hand, increasing the sensation until I was a puddle of moans and soft cries.

I felt his hands on my back, and then they slid around cupping my breast, squeezing as I rode him. I could feel his control, his refusal to move his hips and let me set the pace. The power I felt was undeniable. It was definitely an aphrodisiac. I had never been so turned on in my life.

“Liam?” I said.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m going to come.”

He pinched my nipples, sending me flying over the edge. I grabbed hold of his thighs as I rode it out, crying out over and over until I felt him pull me firmly against him as he came deep inside me. We’d ditched the condoms months ago, and the feeling when he came inside was often enough to make me come again. He reached around, finding my clit and rubbing frantically, knowing he could get me there.

“Oh, fuck, Liam,” I screamed as I came a second time. I collapsed forward, my breasts against his thighs, as I tried to regain my breath. His hands moved slowly over my lower back, my ass, finding the place where we were still joined and running his thumb along it. I sighed happily, once again awed that we’d ended up together.

 

*

“Hey, Em, phone for you.”

I walked into the kitchen, going over the contract in my hands, to find Liam holding out my cell phone. I must have left it there the night before. I hadn’t even heard it ring. I’d fallen back asleep, once more, after our celebratory session and had woken to the smell of pancakes and bacon.

I padded over and took the phone from him, putting it to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Sweetheart! It’s your mother. How are you?”

I shot Liam a dirty look and he just smirked, turning back to the stove.

“I’m fine, Mom. How are you?”

“I’m well. Your father, too. We decided to spend this cold day planning our spring and summer travel plans and guess what? You’re first up on the itinerary. I’m giving you plenty of advance notice so you can take the time off.”

I took a deep breath in before replying, but then decided not to argue. Why bother? I had a publishing contract in my hands, literally. Who knew if I’d even be working at the hotel in four months? Maybe I’d be able to write full time.

“Why don’t you give me your dates and we’ll see what we can do,” I said.

“Well that sounds lovely. I will do that, dear. Any chance Liam can get some time off?”

I glanced over at him, remembering how he’d handed me the phone without warning.

“Pretty sure that can be arranged,” I said.

“Fabulous. I mean, it was a nice visit last time, but with the two of you running in different directions all the time, we didn’t get enough time together. I mean, really, Maggie, you never even told us how you got together in the first place.”

I burst out laughing and sat down at the kitchen table. Liam put a plate in front of me before sitting down to his own.

“Actually, Mom, that’s a really funny story. Have you got a minute?”

 

*

Author’s Note:

Thank you so much for downloading A Dash of Romance!

This is the third book in my new series, Mountain Valley Romance, a collection of stand-alone steamy stories taking place in a small, northern Canadian town in the mountains. There’s something about small towns that makes writing about them so delicious. The tight-knit communities, the fish-out-of-water stories, the reunions with long-lost loves—there’s so much potential material.

This particular story was inspired by some friends of mine and writing it was pure joy. I spent almost two years in the kitchen while at culinary school, so getting to draw on that experience was a lot of fun. It was also super interesting to discover all the changes in the culinary arts over the past decade while I was doing my research for Liam.

I’ve always loved the trope of the fake relationship. I mean, who doesn’t? It was something I hadn’t attempted yet, and Liam and Maggie presented me with the perfect opportunity. I loved her spunky naivete and his smoldering charm. The chemistry between them was easy to create!

If you haven’t already signed up for my newsletter, it’s a great chance to receive a free bonus story that’s not available anywhere else. Sign up here. In addition to receiving the fun (and sexy!) prequel to the Allie Styles Romance series, you’ll be among the first to know about new releases and sales, and you’ll even get the occasional free chapter…

 

*

I really hope you enjoyed A Dash of Romance. The next book is the series, Coming Around Again, launches on October 1, 2021, but can be pre-ordered at your favourite retailer. Here’s a sneak peek:

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now approaching Mountain Valley, the end of the line. Please ensure you have your personal belongings with you. Your luggage will be retrieved from underneath the bus once we arrive at the terminal. As you’ll have noticed, there’s a storm coming and caution is urged for the rest of your travels this evening. Thanks for riding with Great Lines.”

I looked up from my laptop for the first time in God knew how long and peered out the window. The snow was indeed coming down. I could barely see the mountains that I knew surrounded us. It had been over a decade since I’d last been here, but some things you never forget. I shut my laptop in frustration. Aside from serving as a distraction from the storm, my attempt at writing on the trip had been laughable. I tried not to think about my looming deadline, but it was impossible. It was like the devil on my shoulder, taunting me.

I packed everything up and was pulling on my coat when my cell phone started buzzing. I searched my purse until I found it, dismayed to see I was on the last bar. I’d have to charge it in the rental car on the drive. I saw who was calling and grimaced. The devil on my other shoulder.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hello, there,” Beth, my agent, said. “Have you arrived?”

“I have, but I also have no battery left on my phone, so I may cut out on you. I’ll get back in touch when I’m charged.”

“Already making excuses, are you? You need to finish this script, Elena. You know that. They start pre-production in a month. They’re already casting.”

“I know, I know. I’m on it.”

“I’m still not sure why you had to actually go there to write the damn thing,” Beth continued, almost to herself.

“I told you. I haven’t been home since my mom died. This film is about family relationships. When you throw in the fact that Mason Scott’s studio, which is right here, is producing it, it just makes sense, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The bus slowed to a halt and I stood, gathering my purse and backpack.

“Listen, Beth, I’ve got to go. The bus just pulled in and the snow is fierce. I’ll speak to you soon.”

“You be careful. Death will not be a valid excuse for missing this deadline.”

I laughed as I hung up the phone and dropped it back in my purse. But when I set foot in the parking lot, I wasn’t laughing anymore. At some point between me glancing out the window and stepping off the bus, the storm had really picked up. I pulled up my hood and quickly went to retrieve my luggage before heading over to the rental car kiosk. I’d lived in these mountains until I was 18 years old. I knew them like the back of my hand.

The “bus terminal” was really nothing more than the parking lot of the one tiny strip mall in the village. My last visit had been right after my twenty-fifth birthday, fifteen years earlier, to bury my mother. After that, I left Canada altogether, making a life in LA. There was no reason to come back. Until now.

As I walked towards the kiosk, I noticed a couple of new storefronts and one new cafe, but the rest was like it was stuck in a time capsule. I shook my head and approached the door. It was closed. There was a sign that read, Closed due to storm. For emergencies, call 555-385-5555.

I pulled my phone out of my purse, but the battery was dead. Shit. I looked around, but all the windows were dark, save one. I tucked my phone away, pulled my hood further up over my head, and walked towards the door. I tried it, and mercifully it was open. I walked inside and pulled off my hood, shaking the light dusting of snow from my hair. It was only then that I stopped short, taking a good look around.

The shop was narrow and lit by a string of fairy lights on either side of the ceiling. It was more of a workshop than a store, with gorgeous wood furniture packed into the space. Dressers, coffee tables, bookshelves—all beautifully-carved wood. Works of art, really. I took my time, looking around and running the tips of my near-frozen fingers over the tabletops. There was a distinctive quality to the furniture that appealed to me. It was warm and it felt like it was almost made just for me. There wasn’t a piece in the place that I didn’t love.

I looked towards the back of the shop but there was no one there. There was a closed door, leading either to a staircase, a back room, or a washroom for all I knew. I figured whoever owned the place would show up eventually. There was no reason they wouldn’t let me use a phone to call for a car. I walked back to the front of the shop, looking out the large picture window at the snow swirling around outside. It was getting thicker and I worried the longer I waited, the tougher the drive was going to be. It was at least another twenty-five minutes to the cottage I’d rented and it was already dark. I checked my phone for the time, momentarily forgetting the dead battery was the reason I was standing there. I figured it had to be at least 7:30 p.m.

I gazed out the window, mesmerized by the falling snow and the sheer beauty of the mountains I couldn’t even see. I must have been lost in space because I didn’t even hear the back door open or close before I heard someone clearing their throat.

“Can I help you? I was just about to close up,” a deep male voice asked.

I turned around, about to ask to use the phone when my heart stopped. At least, it must have stopped. There’s no other explanation for the fact that I could no longer breathe, see straight, or even form a coherent thought. I tried to swallow but there was nothing doing. For a moment, I honestly thought I was going to pass out, because standing there, about ten feet away, was Logan Matthews, my high school boyfriend.

Taller than I remembered, he’d filled out in the years since I’d seen him. Broad shoulders, defined muscles, and a mop of curly brown hair that fell over his face. The only man I’d ever truly loved. And I hadn’t seen him in over a decade.

“Lainey.”

I finally swallowed.

“Elena.”

He laughed, hesitantly walking closer.

“That’s right. Elena Wise, Hollywood screenwriter.” He smiled, stopping about two feet away.

“Logan.”

“Lainey.”

We stood there for an eternity, or maybe 30 seconds, just staring into each other’s eyes. Everything I’d accomplished since high school melted away and I was 18 years old again, graduating and looking forward to college and life outside of a small town. My friends were all taking off in different directions, and there was nothing keeping me there—except Logan.

“This is all yours?” I asked, gesturing to the furniture.

“Yeah.” He gave a soft laugh. “I guess woodworking kind of stuck.”

I looked around in amazement.

“I’d say so. What the hell are you still doing in this shit town?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before replying. I saw all the emotions I’d felt a moment earlier pass through his eyes.

“Are we going to start already?”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head.

He took another step closer and reached out, letting his hand hover in the air between us.

“Can I—” he asked.

I nodded and before I knew it, he had me wrapped up in his arms. I stood there, just absorbing the moment, before I let my arms find their way around his familiar shape. I rested my cheek against his chest as he stroked my hair. I had come in looking to make a phone call. I was beyond confused. I pulled away and looked up at him.

“Seriously, Logan. I can’t believe you’re still here. How are your parents?”

“My dad passed away. My mom’s okay. Getting older. I moved her to a retirement home in the city. But what…what are you doing here?”

He looked out the front window, confused.

“There’s a storm, you know?” he said.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious. I rented a cottage for a few weeks. I’m on deadline for my next project, well, fuck it, I’ve got writer’s block. The film takes place in a small mountain town, so I figured coming home might kickstart things for me.”

I stopped talking long enough to notice he wasn’t looking at my face but at my left hand. I covered it immediately with my right and glanced at his hands, both of which were bare. I nervously twisted the band around my ring finger, the feeling so foreign to me.

“It’s not what you think, Logan—”

“What do I think? That you got married? I knew you’d get married, Lainey.”

“I’m not. I’m not married. And I’m not Lainey anymore. Elena. I told you.”

Logan shook his head.

“Sorry. You’ll always be Lainey to me.” He studied me for a heartbeat. “What do you mean, you’re not married?”

“I’m not. It’s an inside joke. My agent, Beth, made me wear it while I was here so I wouldn’t get hit on. She’s very focused on me finishing.”

“Hit on? In a cabin in the mountains?”

“She’s a city girl. She doesn’t understand cottage life. Or isolation of any sort, for that matter. Anyway, I would love to catch up, but the reason I came in was because the rental car place is closed and I need a car to get up to the cabin. Have you got a phone I can use?”

Logan smiled his old easy smile and once again time evaporated. It took all my energy to focus. After the plane trip and the bus ride and the building storm, it was all a bit much.

“I’ll drive you,” he said. “Len’s not going to open the rental shop now. The roads are too bad. Let’s get your stuff.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. It’ll give us that chance to catch up.”

I smiled and waited for him to close up. When he was done, he grabbed my bags and took me out to his truck. He loaded everything into the back and we climbed into the cab. He reached over and gave my hand a quick squeeze before starting the engine. I turned on the radio, flipping through the stations until I landed on Dobie Gray singing Drift Away. I settled back into my seat and looked out the passenger window, watching the trees go by in the dark, almost hidden behind a veil of snow.

“Where’s the cottage?” Logan asked.

“Just off Route 6.”

“Bear Lake?”

I nodded. He sighed.

“Nice choice. Quiet.”

“That’s the plan. I need quiet to write.”

“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think we’re going to make it there tonight.”

I looked over at him.

“What do you mean?”

“They closed that road half an hour ago. No way in or out.”

“Shit. I’m sure we’ll manage. Can we try?”

“You got groceries? A cord of wood? Have you even got toilet paper?”

I stared ahead through the windshield, not bothering to answer.

“I didn’t think so,” he said. “Listen. I’m doing some renovation work at a B&B just off the next road. They owe me a favour. I’m sure they’ll find room for you.”

“Logan. I need to get to my cottage.”

“Well, you’re not getting there tonight. It’s too dangerous. Too much of a risk.”

I bit my tongue. Once again, that decade disappeared, but this time not in a good way. This was always our problem—I was ready to forge ahead, he was too scared to take risks. That was how I ended up leaving this shit hole and he ended up staying.

But in this case, I had to admit he was right. I wasn’t equipped to ride out a mountain storm. If there was no power, I wouldn’t even have a phone, forget transportation.

“Fine. Take me to the B&B.”

We drove without speaking as the snow came down around us. I honestly had no idea how Logan was able to navigate. I assumed living here his entire life gave him that ability. After a few minutes, he pulled onto a small gravel road and stopped in front of a large rambling house. We got out and he grabbed my bags. Neither of us said a word as we walked up the steps and went inside.

Order your copy of Coming Around Again today!