Love Me: The Complete Series (59 page)

She looked at him, embarrassed. “I shouldn’t have been there for that. I had no idea what it was all about. I thought I knew but—that—was awful.”

Jackson smiled. “No, it wasn’t. It was beautiful. That man just learned that his dad really was a great guy. He learned there was a soldier still walking this earth who knew so and wanted his family cared for even if he couldn’t do it himself. Do you have any idea how much that means to a son? We all want our dads to be good guys, good fathers, good husbands. We want to grow up to be those things ourselves.”

Amanda blinked. “Not everyone wants that.”

He sighed. “Okay, not everyone, but most.”

Amanda leveled her gaze on Jackson. The elevator door dinged and opened. A man in a suit saw them and waved. “I’ll take the next one.”

Jackson nodded at the guy and returned his attention to Amanda. “Amanda, you need to tell me something. I know you feel it but I want to hear the words. I want to know that you’re ready to be a part of everything we just saw. A part of me.”

Gulp.
Could she do that? Was she ready?

“On one condition.” She definitely could. She loved the guy.

He raised a brow. “Nope, no conditions. Either you love me or you don’t.”

Amanda wrapped her arms around his head and melded against the body she knew could make her the happiest woman on earth. “I love you. Always have … but you have to get your family in order.”

He stared at her dumbfounded. “My family
is
in order. We were just there, remember?”

She shook her head. He didn’t get it—that was only part of his crew. “You have to talk to Carter. He’s like a brother to you. You’ll hate me someday if you don’t make that right.”

Jackson wrapped his arms around her and squeezed until she thought she’d faint. “Babe, I’ll make it right, don’t you worry. Family really
is
everything—and he’s part of mine. So are you now. So get ready.”

She cast him an evil glance, then pulled him back into one of his mind-spinning kisses. “No problem. I’ve got this.”

The events in this novel unfold simultaneously with the events of Book One of this series,
Text Me
, which follows Carter’s romance with Abby. This is Amanda’s and Jackson’s story.

• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication
  
• Acknowledgments
  
• Author’s Note
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• Chapter Twenty-Five
  
• Chapter Twenty-Six
  
• Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
• Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
• Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
• Chapter Thirty
  
• Chapter Thirty-One
  
• Chapter Thirty-Two
  
• About the Author
  

Avon, Massachusetts

Copyright © 2015 by Shelley K. Wall.
All rights reserved.

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

Published by

Crimson Romance

an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

www.crimsonromance.com

ISBN 10: 1-4405-8402-8

ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8402-2

eISBN 10: 1-4405-8403-6

eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8403-9

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

Cover art © iStockphoto.com

During the writing of this book, I lost a dear and true friend. He taught me the meaning of strength, loyalty, and perseverance in his nine years with us. He has influenced a canine character in many of my books, this one included, and though his time in my life was short, it will be permanently etched in my soul. Anyone who has had a pet as wonderful as our English mastiff, Conan, can appreciate these words.

Conan stood diligently in our driveway watching the passersby, likely amused at their intimidated reactions. He went on vacation with us, helped our boys meet girls, protected our daughter from harm and our property from intrusion, and gave us many a wonderful dog-hug while drooling all over us. Additionally, he showed our other dogs the right place to pee and how to guard
his
dominion properly.

Two weeks before the final manuscript for this book was submitted, I let him outside to water his normal spots. He strolled behind the foliage in our yard, laid his head over a paw, and slumbered into his next life.

His antics over the years have added a lot of humor and love to our life (see my blog post about his fight with a baby raccoon) and I pray that his time with us was as good as ours with him.

Cheers, Conan.

For my kids ... I write romance because there is only one emotion in our life that every single being on the planet seeks, and that is
love.
Yes, it may sound corny, but it’s true—and anyone who scoffs at that wisdom is full of crap. May you find it, give it, feel it, and nurture it for the rest of your life.

Lastly, because writing is a frustrating and very solitary profession—I must be thankful for my husband’s patience as I waffle from ecstatic celebration to complete despair. Thank you for our life together and your words of wisdom ...
it only takes one, you just never know which. So keep writing until you find it.

I must acknowledge Dawn Dowdle of Blue Ridge Literary, who saw a spark in my books and helped bring them to publication. I appreciate her insight and efforts. Additionally I want to recognize my friend Cindy Davis for her editorial advice and friendship during my writing efforts. I also wanted to give a special tribute to Jess Verdi, whose expert eye found many holes in this story. Her advice helped to strengthen the final product and make me fall in love with my characters even more.

My sincere appreciation to Tara, Jess, and Julie at Crimson Romance for their guidance with this series and their continued positive and professional support. They are a wonderful team.

The events in this novel unfold simultaneously with the events of the first two books of this series:
Text Me
, which follows Carter’s romance with Abby, and
Find Me
, which follows Jackson’s romance with Amanda. This is Caroline and Roger’s story.

Six years ago…

Caroline Sanders sat in her silver-bullet gray Land Rover outside frat house row. She loved the way the buildings looked—so clean and perfectly manicured. Sure, the frat boys inside were party animals bent on throwing their parents into financial ruin while they drank, chased girls, and studied-slash-cheated their way to fancy degrees. Tonight was no exception. The red traffic light glared at her while rap music blared from the house to her right.
Geeze, a party on a Thursday night? Don’t they have exams like the rest of us?

She’d just finished one of the many photography gigs that helped pay the bills while she pursued that elusive journalism degree. The traffic light switched to green, but just as she moved her foot to the gas pedal, her passenger door flew open and a bulky frame dropped into her seat. Was she getting
carjacked
?

“Go. Go. Come on, the light’s green.” The panicked student-looking carjacker shoved the dash as if to propel them forward.

Caroline didn’t budge. She took in the wavy, brown hair that fell over chocolate eyes, the dimpled face that gave away a propensity to laugh regardless of his current fear. He didn’t
look
like a criminal. His clothes were clean, though tattered, and he held a can of something in his hand. Not beer. She glanced at his gold fingers. Spray paint?

She lifted a brow then looked behind him. On the trunk of the tree in the front yard of the beautiful house was a haphazard drawing in gold—of a kid whizzing on the tree. How childish. “You did
not
just do that. What are you, twelve?”

Footsteps thundered toward the car. “You’d better hit the gas unless you want to get blamed, too.” The guy reached a foot over the console and slammed his flip-flop-clad toes over hers.

Against her will, she sped through the light. He kept his foot in place. No chance of turning at the current speed. Another green light accommodated their escape.

A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed half a dozen preppies standing in the street watching their taillights. Gulp. They probably had memorized her plate number.

“You realize you just made me an accomplice to whatever happened back there. Please tell me I won’t be tracked down for vandalism.”

The guy gave her a quick preview of the dimpled smile he probably used frequently. “Don’t worry, I painted over your license plate before I got in the car. You’re safe.”

Oh, that’s comforting.

He returned his leg to the passenger seat and glanced out the window. “You can pull over up there and drop me off. My house is a couple blocks away.”

Caroline shook her head. “No way. You jump in my car after doing ... whatever you did back there ... and my car is probably the only thing all those guys remember. Plus there’s gold paint on my license plate that just happens to match the crime scene—”

“There’s no crime ... or at least nothing serious. You’ve read too many spy novels. That was payback. Besides, they won’t report anything because they don’t want us to report
them
.” He rolled the window down. As they passed the lake in front of the student union, he flung the can out hard.
Splash.

“Yes, and you just tossed the only thing that linked
you
to the artwork you left behind. Now my gold-enhanced license plate makes things even worse. No sir, I am not taking you all the way home so I know where you live if someone comes after me. Better yet, why don’t I just circle around and drop you right back where I found you?”

The dimples went still. “You wouldn’t do that, would you? They’d beat both of us into oblivion.”

She gave him a look of intimidation. “Not me. I’d just tell the truth. You, on the other hand, would be in deep shit.”

His Adam’s apple lunged. Was her ruse working? He sighed. “Something tells me you’d get a kick out of that—watching me get schooled.” He closed the window.

Using her best crazy eyes, she nodded. “You have no idea.”

“Okay, turn up there.” He pointed at a stop sign.

Caroline listened as the guy gave her directions to his home—which wasn’t really a home. It was another frat house. Great. He’d pulled her into some sort of fraternity rivalry. It was her senior year, and she’d managed to get this far without any huge explosion. Now this.

“You live here? Seriously?”

“No. I live off campus, but I’m a member. I figured you’d want to know what it was all about. Come on.” He stepped out of the car and slammed the door.

Should she follow? Part of her wanted to just hit the gas and leave.
Remember the gold paint on your car?
He should at least clean up his mess. He was halfway up the drive by now, but Caroline remained in the car. “Why should I follow you into that den of sweaty socks and dried beer?” she called out the open window.

He’d kicked off his flip-flops and was now barefoot. He shoved his hands into the pocket of his jeans, which cupped his lower body lovingly, and plodded across the thick grass. “Because you’re curious,” he called back. “You’re dying to know what they did to us. Why else would we want to paint cartoons of little boys pissing on their trees and mooning them on their windows, or fill their vending machines with K-Y Jelly?”

He had a point. Wait, he’d painted little boys baring their asses on the windows? She hadn’t seen
that.
“Okay. You’re right. I’m curious.” She ignored the lubricant comment because that was just plain gross. With a turn of the wrist, she killed the engine and pulled out her keys. She shoved the driver’s door shut and plodded toward him. “Aren’t you worried you’ll stub a toe or step on some glass?”

He grinned. Damn those dimples. They made him look like a devilish preteen prankster, naïve and on the verge of manhood. His looks obviously were deceiving, since he had to be her age. “The lawn crew cuts the grass on Mondays, so it’s extra thick by the weekend. I like the way it feels on my toes.”