Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [116]
Emotions boiled inside me as my joints turned into jelly, my heart went up in cinders and even my pinky toe swooned. Joy can be overwhelming, too, I found, as I projected without meaning to. To my amazement Brent must have felt it too, because his spirit followed mine; we both had left our bodies in the same instant. In the back of my mind, I was aware that the trees around us swayed at the sudden gale of wind circling us, my hair lifted and wound around Brent’s head, chairs rattled, loose stones shuddered, trash cans tipped and their contents spilled across the ground before becoming airborne, even the fire roared louder. When we finally pulled apart, the area around us was littered with debris, broken branches, toppled objects and Brent’s hair spiked unevenly, though that might have been from running my fingers through it.
“That was . . .” I trailed off trying to find the proper adjective.
“Long overdue?”
“Long overdue? You’re the one who got skittish when I mentioned how I felt and backed away when we almost kissed.”
“You call me on all my crap, don’t you?” He laughed throwing his head back. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said. His fingers skimmed up my shoulders until they cradled my neck and my whole body tingling.
“Love?” I couldn’t meet his gaze so I studied his strong chin instead.
The veins on his neck pulsed, the muscles in his shoulders tensed and he cleared his throat. “Yeah, love, Yara.” His fingers traced the contours of my jaw and I leaned into his touch. “What Dallin said was true . . . I did date around a lot, but with you it’s been different— it’s been different from the beginning. I don’t want anyone else. I haven’t wanted anyone else since I met you.”
His chocolate brown eyes, filled with passion and vulnerability, were like black holes trapping me in their gravitational pull.
“I don’t either.”
A brilliant smile flashed on his face and his shoulders loosened.
He looked around at the tipped table, strewn garbage, fallen leaves, and general chaos of the usually tidy quad. “Impressive.”
“I think we can do better,” I said, resting my head on his chest, where his heart beat strong and sure, matching the cadence of my own.
“There’s always room for improvement,” Brent agreed with a promising grin. “It just might take a lot of practice. I’m something of a perfectionist.”
The wind picked up intensity as Brent’s lips found mine, and I decided our training sessions were going to be a lot of fun.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank and acknowledge:
My husband, for all his help, support, love, mad grammar skills and not judging me for writing in my pajamas, even into the afternoon.
My kids, for giving me hugs and kisses when I got discouraged.
Mom and Dad, for always believing in me and helping me in any way they could.
My Grandpa Gene and Grandma Doris, who inspired so much of this story.
Maddy, my first reader, for reading every draft and letting me know what didn’t work.
The irreplaceable Alma, for doing the cover design, letting me know when a guy wouldn’t say what I’d written, giving me several verbal kicks in the butt and admitting she hated my first prologue.
Melonie, for helping me write some great one-liners, helping skeleton scenes grow flesh, and all the hours spent brainstorming with me.
Anna Genoese, my talented editor, who also has fantastic taste in television shows.
Renee, for helping me figure out how to get rid of the second Evan.
Andy, for asking, “Does her name have to be Abby?” and helping me define a music genre.
Jodi Meadows, for taking the time to explain how to show, not tell.
My big sister Melanie, for showing me that writing a book was possible.
My big brothers Steve and Brent, who are (were) the world’s best brothers.
Marietta Zacker, for asking if I needed a second Evan.
Suzie Townsend, for giving me some great feedback , and for giving me hope even while saying no.
Heather, for being a proofreader, and when needed, a critic.
Michelle (Honey), for helping edit the many versions of my book.