A Touch of Cinnamon

  He was nothing like Jericho’s mother.

  “That was your PI friend, Mick, darlin’. He came by yesterday, then called last night and told me to call him if I happened to catch sight of you. He’s on his way.”

  I started to tremble, a little at first, then in big, rocking waves.

  I sat there for what felt like forever, holding my water bottle and looking at, but not watching, the news, until finally there was a knock on the door.

  I stood up, then sat back down, thinking, oh God, what if it’s her and not Mick, then Gregory opened the door and Mick stepped in.

  He was a formidable-looking man. Large in size and stature, with muscles that didn’t quit, dark hair, and a gruff voice. If you met him in a dark alley, you’d run in the other direction, but his face was kind, and his light-green eyes mesmerizing, and in that moment, he was the best thing I’d ever seen.

  I didn’t know him well, in fact, we’d only ever said a few words to each other, but I leapt up and ran to him, not pausing before I rushed into his arms and held on for dear life.

  “There’s a lass,” Mick said, more softly than I knew he could speak, as he patted my back reassuringly. “Thanks, Gregory. I talked to the PO, so she shouldn’t be darkening your door again today. I’m going to get this one outta here.”

  I felt Mick lead me out of the apartment, and turned quickly to say, “Thank you,” to Gregory, before I let Mick take me down the stairs and out of the apartment complex to where his truck was waiting.

  He helped me inside, then rounded the truck and got in the driver’s seat. When we were off the streets and turning onto the highway, he handed me his phone and said, “You should give Jericho a call.”

  “Thanks,” I said, thinking I could say that to him every hour of every day and it still wouldn’t be enough.

  “It’s Mick,” I heard Jericho say, before he put the phone to his ear and said, “Hello.”

  “Jericho,” I managed, my voice breaking.

  “Tash,” he replied, his cracking with emotion as well. “He’s got you?”

  “Yeah,” I said, then I started crying so hard I could no longer make sounds that formed words.

  “Tasha, baby, you’re okay,” Jericho said soothingly, and I wanted to see him, to touch him so badly, that I started crying harder.

  Knowing I wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, I thrust the phone toward Mick.

  “It’s me,” Mick said. “She’s good. Unharmed, but shook up. No, she wasn’t there, dropped Natasha with the guy she’s currently shacked up with and went to see her PO, who was waiting to take her back into custody. Yeah, we’re headed straight for ya, no stops unless she needs to. Yup. Later.”

  “Your family’s at Jericho’s so we’ll go straight there,” Mick said, his tone soothing as he spoke to me. “You can lay down if you need to, just holler if you need to stop for anything: food, drink, facilities . . . whatever.”

  I laid down, careful not to take up too much of his space in the cab of the truck, and when his hand patted my shoulder, offering me comfort, I took it, then I dozed off.

  Jericho ~ Present

  IT TURNED OUT THAT IT hadn’t been Mick calling, it was Natasha, using his phone. She was with him and she was safe.

  I’d hung up and told everyone what was going on, which caused shouts of happiness and an overall sense of relief to fall over the house. Dru and Millie had embraced, shedding a few tears over the knowledge that their sister was on her way home.

  And I’d started cleaning.

  My hands were shaking and I felt anxious, and since I needed to do something to keep myself busy until Mick and Natasha arrived, I started in the kitchen and worked my way upstairs.

  I was in the closet, hanging the last of Natasha’s things and putting her suitcases in the attic, when Jackson called up the stairs, “They’re here.”

  I ran down the stairs, skipping steps as I went, until jumping over the last few and onto the landing. Everyone was already standing at the door, but they parted when they saw me, allowing me to make my way to the front.

  Mick had just gotten out of the truck and was walking around the hood, when Natasha’s door opened and she stepped down.

  She had on her nightgown, with an oversized robe and too-long pajama pants on, along with some socks. She looked, tired, frazzled, and utterly beautiful.

  I was there before she could take another step, pulling her into my arms and hugging her tightly.

  “Are you okay? I love you. Did she hurt you? I’ll kill her. I love you.”

  Natasha laughed as I babbled, and I swung her up into my arms, not wanting her to walk in just socks, and carried her to the house where everyone was practically busting at the seams to see her and touch her for themselves.

  Once we crossed the threshold I put her down, and she was swept into hugs and kisses.

  I could see she was feeling overwhelmed.

  “Okay, guys, I know we’re all happy she’s home, but let’s get her inside and comfortable,” I said, then took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “What do you need?”

  “A shower, and a fire to burn these clothes,” Natasha replied.

  “Done,” I said, then, knowing everyone was still a little on edge and needed something to keep busy, I ordered, “Millie and Hector, you’re on lunch. Dru, Kayla, can you go upstairs and get the shower heating up? Jackson, start the fire out back in the pit. And, Mick, what do you need? Gold, the shirt off my back, tequila? Say it and it’s yours.”

  “I could use a beer.”

  “In the fridge,” I said, then walked up the stairs, still holding Natasha’s hand. Once we got in the room, Natasha walked into the bathroom and said, “Thanks,” stopping to kiss Kayla and Dru on their cheeks.

  “Anything else?” Dru asked as they left Natasha alone.

  “I guess just see if Millie and Hector need anything. Thanks,” I said, then followed Natasha into the bathroom.

  “You need anything else?” I asked gently as she stepped under the steaming spray.

  “No, I’ll be down in a minute,” she said with a small smile.

  “I’ll just take these then,” I said, picking up the clothes. “Holler if you need anything.”

  I went downstairs and outside to where Mick and Jackson were standing by the fire pit. Without missing a beat, I crossed the patio and threw the clothes into the flame.

  Mick handed me a beer, which I accepted, and the three of us stood there, sipping beer, watching the cotton material turn to ash. Once there was nothing left, we turned to join the others inside.

  True to her word, Natasha was back with us in no time at all, fresh and clean with her hair pulled back in a small ponytail.

  “Better?” I asked, meeting her in the middle of the living room.

  “So much,” she replied with a smile as she tilted her head back to look at me. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Natasha, more than I can ever express in words . . . When I got home and realized you were missing, it was like my heart had been stolen from my chest.”

  “I know,” Natasha said softly, “I felt the same way. And all I kept thinking about, was how much time we’ve lost . . . I don’t want to lose anymore.”

  “We won’t,” I promised.

  “Marry me,” she said, her fingers coming up to trace my face, as if committing it to memory.

  “I think we already had this conversation,” I said, smiling for the first time in twenty-four hours.

  “I mean now, right away. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

  “I’ll see what I have to do to get the license and find a Justice of the Peace,” I replied, willing to marry her whenever and however she wanted. The sooner the better.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Millie said, her arm around Jackson’s waist as they watched us. “We know of a place you can get married in two short weeks.”

  Jackson nodded.

  “We aren’t going to take your wedding, Mills,” Natasha said with a laugh
. “But thank you, that’s very sweet.”

  “You don’t have to take it, but you can share it,” Millie informed us.

  Natasha put her arms around me and snuggled in, looking at her family as she said, “Thank you all so much for being here, not just for me, but for Jericho, and for showing him what having a true family is all about. This is what I’ve been trying to get him to understand, although I never thought I’d have to get kidnapped to prove it.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  I lowered my head to cover her lips with mine, starting off slow and soft, then deepening the kiss, putting everything I’d felt over the last twenty-four hours into it.

  “I love you so much. Thank you for giving me your family, and for giving me you back. You’re the touch of cinnamon, that extra bit of flavor I need to spice up my life. You’re good for me.”

  Natasha

  AFTER MY CRASH COURSE IN why Jericho’s mother is never going to be grandma material, I went back to see Dr. Richmond, to make sure the baby was safe and there were no stress-related issues.

  The baby was fine and everything was still on track.

  Jericho and I had agreed that we did not want to takeover Millie and Jackson’s wedding. Although the gesture was sweet, they’d put a lot of thought and effort into planning their perfect day, and it would be just that, perfect . . . for them.

  Instead, Jericho and I had gone to the Justice of the Peace, with Millie, Dru, Jackson, Kayla, and Hector in attendance. Jackson and Hector had been Jericho’s witnesses, while Millie and Dru had been mine.

  Afterwards, we had a small dinner party at Prime Beef that included our family and friends as well as the staff of Three Sisters and Prime Beef. It had been lovely and perfect. Exactly what we both wanted.

  Now, we were married, living in our dream home and having a baby.

  No waiting required. We were ready to get to the part where we lived our lives.

  Now, I stood at the altar next to Dru, wearing our pretty mint-green dresses, which matched Mick’s eyes, and waited for our eldest sister to walk down the aisle to marry the man of her dreams.

  When I heard The Wedding March begin to play, I leaned forward so I could see Jackson’s face when he saw Millie in her dress for the first time.

  He didn’t disappoint.

  His face turned dreamy and he began to tear up as she and Kayla walked toward him down the aisle.

  I turned to look at my sister, who was positively glowing as she marched toward her happily ever after, then turned my attention to my husband. The tall, gorgeous, dark man in the front row, who was watching me with an expression full of love and adoration.

  “If I wasn’t so happy for you all, I’d be sick to my stomach,” Dru whispered in my ear.

  “Shhh,” I hissed. “You can’t say that right when Millie’s about to get married.”

  I looked at her and realized she was either about to bust out laughing or burst into tears.

  “Pull it together, Drusilla,” I warned, then turned my attention back to the ceremony and hoped we’d make it through without any embarrassing moments.

  We did, and it was a beautiful ceremony, held in the church that Kayla had been baptized in, with all of Jackson’s family in attendance.

  For the reception, they’d decided on an outdoor venue, and Three Sisters Catering, along with Party with Laurel, a company run by a woman Dru knew, had turned the space into a magical wonderland.

  We’d put up tents, just in case, with pretty white lights hanging throughout. There was a stage for the band, as well as a dance floor, and tables strewn about for the full-service dinner we’d be serving.

  Decorated with mint green and pink, it was romantic in a way that fit Jackson and Millie perfectly.

  When an Elvis impersonator got on stage and started singing Love Me Tender, I thought Millie might faint, but she made it through her first dance as Jackson’s wife with a beaming smile on her face.

  We laughed when Dru caught the bouquet and started blowing kisses to the crowd, then at Mick’s scowl when he stood at the edge of the group of men vying for the boutonniere and Jackson turned and threw it right at him.

  As Jericho spun me around the dance floor, I reveled at how far my sisters and I had come since our mother had passed away. How much our lives had changed. How much she missed. And, although it made me sad, I knew she was smiling down on us, happy that we were finding our own happiness.

  “Hey,” Jericho whispered, his mouth close enough to my ear to give me tingles. “Three o’clock.”

  “What? It’s like nine o’clock at night, what are you talking about?”

  Jericho sighed.

  “No, look, at my three o’clock.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Jericho have me a look of exasperation, then moved us around and jerked his head to the right. I turned my face to see what he was talking about, and watched as Hector took my sister’s hand and led Dru onto the dance floor.

  My mouth may have dropped open, and I maneuvered Jericho so I could see what happened next.

  They stopped at the middle of the floor and Hector put Dru’s hand on his shoulder, then his on her waist, and clasped her other hand. Then they began to move.

  “Wow,” I breathed. “Hector has some moves.”

  “Yeah, we took classes at the Y when we were fifteen. That’s where all the girls went after school, so that’s where we went.”

  “Are you saying you have moves like that?” I asked, my eyes still on the couple gliding around the floor.

  “Hells yeah, baby,” Jericho said, then moved one of my hands to his shoulder and took the other in his and off we went.

  I laughed happily as we danced, matching Hector and Dru as we followed them around the floor.

  “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you, Mr. Smythe?”

  “That’s not all I have in store, Mrs. Smythe.”

  “Really? What other surprise do you have for me?” I asked, ready to try anything with him.

  “I talked to Dr. Richmond, and she gave the all clear for you to travel.”

  “Where am I traveling to?” I asked, enjoying our banter.

  “You didn’t get the big wedding or fancy reception, but I’ll be damned if my wife’s not going to get her honeymoon.”

  I stopped dancing.

  “Honeymoon?” I asked, unable to hide my excitement.

  “Yes, ma’am, tomorrow morning, we are leaving for a two-week vacation to . . . Bali,” Jericho said, pausing for effect. Then resumed dancing.

  “Bali, oh my God, that’s amazing.”

  “Yup, monkeys, elephants, and me.”

  “Well, they’re all kind of the same thing,” I joked, then threw myself into his arms. “Thank you, seriously. I cannot wait to go to Bali with you.”

  “My beautiful bride, the world is yours for the taking, and I plan to give it to you.”

  Stay tuned for Dru’s story,

  A Splash of Vanilla, coming in 2018!

  Check out the first chapter for

  Bethany Lopez’s, More than Exist

  More Than Exist

  WHAT DO YOU DO WHEN your perfect life is shattered in an instant?

  A year ago, I got the knock at the door that every person fears. It was a rainy Sunday morning and I was lounging around, still in pajamas, waiting for my husband, Ricky, to get home so we could have breakfast. I remember letting out a frustrated sigh when the knock came at the door, angered because I was reading, and things were getting good. I’d bookmarked the page on my Kindle, then threw my fuzzy blanket off and stormed to the door, ready to give someone hell for coming to my house so early on a Sunday.

  When I opened the door, my rebuff froze at the sight of a policeman on my front porch.

  I crossed my arms, hugging them to myself instinctually in defense, as if I already knew I didn’t want to hear what he had to say.

  It’s funny how everything can be so in focus one minute, and a blur of
confusion the next. After he said the word accident and motorcycle, it was as if he’d morphed into one of those teachers on Charlie Brown.

  Wa, Wa, Wa Wa Wa Wa . . .

  I remember crumbling. Just falling to the floor at the policeman’s feet, my entire body numb as my mind tried to make sense out of what the HELL was going on.

  Ricky died on impact. The doctors said he didn’t feel any pain. He didn’t suffer. He was simply there one second, and gone the next. What started as an early-morning ride, ended up changing the course of my life forever.

  The ironic thing . . . Ricky had survived four tours in the Middle East, only to be killed on a stupid motorcycle in the good ole US of A, on a deserted street in San Diego, California. I’d lived in terror throughout each deployment, but it had never occurred to me that I’d lose him at home.

  PART ONE ~ THE JOURNEY

  “YES, MOM, I’M SURE,” I assured her as I tucked the phone in between my ear and my shoulder so I could resume packing.

  “I know you think I worry too much, Mirabelle, but driving cross-country all by yourself is crazy.” I could hear the strain in my mother’s voice, and I understood it, I totally did, but I swear, my mom acted like I was eighteen instead of thirty-two. “Why don’t you let me buy you a plane ticket?”

  I rolled my eyes, grateful that she couldn’t see the insolent act.

  “I don’t want to fly, that defeats the purpose of this trip,” I replied, softening my tone. “I need to do this, Mom.”

  I could feel the fight go out of her, even though she was in Florida and I was in California, it was that palpable.

  “Okay, Belle,” she said on a sigh. “Just make sure you call me every night.”

  “I will.”

  “And, have your car serviced before you leave.”

  “Done.”

  “And, make sure you stop every couple hours to stretch.”

  “Mom . . .”

  “And, stop when you’re tired.”

  I laughed into the phone.

  “I will. Mom, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”