That stops her mid-step. She spins to face me.
Her hair is down in long waves. Her make-up is just as I remember it this morning when I walked her to work.
The dress she’s wearing is a deep green shade and belted at her waist.
I’ll never understand how one soul can radiate so much beauty from the inside out.
“How was your day?” I ask casually.
“Fine,” she answers suspiciously. “I’m working on a column about Nolan Black, so I met up with his wife Ellie.”
I’m familiar with them.
Juliet hasn’t requested my help with getting in touch with anyone for her columns even though my connections are vast. She completed an interview with Dexie Jones last month. She’s a very talented purse designer. Her husband, Rocco, and I have crossed paths in the past.
I wipe my hands over the apron tied at my waist. “How’s that going?”
“Can we talk about that later?” She taps her foot on the floor. “Are you cooking?”
I nod. “I’m whipping up a little something for my bride-to-be.”
That sends her eyes to mine. “What?”
I drop to one knee because my plan to make her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, followed by a scoop of honey ice cream just went to hell.
I can’t wait to do this, so I don’t.
I yank the ring box out of my pocket.
I took it to a jeweler after I bought it. She brushed up the band, and secured the stone in place. With a quick polish it looks spectacular.
“I stopped living until I found you, Juliet.” I look into her eyes. “You not only gave me my life back, but you gifted me with the promise of a future that is almost too much for me to imagine.”
Her eyes well with tears.
“I will love you endlessly, protect you always, and respect you until I die. I would be honored if you would marry me.”
I pop open the box and she squeals. She fucking squeals in delight and that’s all I need to hear.
She gives me more though. She looks past the ring to my eyes, and stares into them. “I will love you forever, Kavan Bane. I will protect you and honor you until I draw my very last breath.”
I put the ring on her finger, haul her up over my shoulder and set out for our bedroom. “It’s time to celebrate, Juliet.”
“That’s Mrs. Bane to you.”
I Like Big Books
And I Cannot Lie
Up for a ride with another Buck Boy? Think you can last longer than 8 seconds with the Bull?
Let’s bucking find out.
Click here to read BULL
Feeling thirsty? Rocco Jones has just what you need to quench that thirst.
Go on. Take a big gulp.
Click here to read THIRST
A Preview of Starlight
Stars shine brighter when the moon is dim.
I’ve always been the moon.
That’s what happens when you push your dreams aside to fulfill the wishes of the people you love.
It’s what brought me to a New York City subway platform with my guitar and a heart full of love songs written from pain and sung with hope.
When Berk Morgan tosses a handful of coins into my guitar case, he accidentally throws in a key.
It’s the key to someone’s heart.
Berk comes looking for it. What he finds is a connection neither of us can deny.
He tells me I’m his star. He wants me to shine brighter than I ever have before, but that comes with a sacrifice I’m not sure I can make.
Chapter One of Starlight
ASTRID
“Hey, blondie. I’ll give you a hundred bucks if you give me a private show.”
Blondie?
Men in this city are failing – big time.
I ignore whoever yelled that at me because I’m on the subway platform in midtown Manhattan with my guitar in my hands and its case on the ground.
I’m busking. It’s the same thing I do at least three times a week when the morning commuters rush through here with a cup of coffee in one hand and their phones pressed to their ears.
On a good day, I’ll make someone smile, and I’ll leave with a few extra dollars. On a bad day, I’ll be subjected to a man in an overpriced suit yelling obscenities at me.
Sometimes I’ll yell back because I know that a jerk like that will do the same thing to another woman trying to share her talent with people who need a little pick-me-up.
I skim my fingers over the strings of my well-loved guitar. I’ve had it for almost seven years. It was a gift on the day I graduated from high school.
I had visions of a record deal and a world tour. My dad and step-mom had a plan that included tuition at a community college back in Ohio. I stuck to their plan until I had a business diploma in my hand. That’s when I boarded a bus with the few possessions I had and came to Manhattan.
I start strumming as another train pulls into the station.
The people on their way out of here are a little more generous than those waiting to board the subway.
Maybe that’s because they’re grateful they made it to their destination without losing their temper or their belongings.
Glancing at the people stepping off the train and onto the platform, I recognize a few familiar faces.
A woman with dark hair and gray eyes strolls past as she drops a dollar in my guitar case.
She’s apologized in the past that she can’t give more, but I’ve always told her what I tell everyone who holds guilt in their eyes at the size of their offering.
“Thank you.”
I don’t busk to make a living. I have another way to earn the money I need to live in this expensive city. I busk because it feeds my soul.
Whenever I picked up my guitar and sang one of my original songs back in Ohio, the people who listened didn’t hear anything beyond a pretty melody and lyrics.
They couldn’t recognize that I spun each chord and word from my heart.
People who step onto this subway platform hear what I want them to hear. That’s a woman who lives and breathes her life in song.
“It’s my birthday today.”
I smile at the sound of that voice. Lester, a doorman who works at a building on Madison Avenue, stops in front of me.
“It is?” I smile.
He nods.
I launch into a soft sung version of Happy Birthday.
Lester sways as I croon his name. I smile when a few people nearby join in as the song nears its end.
Lester claps in delight as I strum the last note on my guitar.
“That’s the best gift I’ve gotten in years, Astrid.” He grabs the brim of the hat on his head to tip it forward. “I’ll never forget this.”
I kiss him softly on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Lester.”
He moves on, disappearing into the crowds of people all racing to get somewhere.
I turn back to my guitar case when I hear the unmistakable sound of coins dropping into it.