Authors: Julie Reece

Tags: #social issues, #urban fantasy, #young adult, #contemporary fantasy, #adaptation, #Fantasy, #family, #teen

The Artisans (37 page)

Dane swallows and stares at his hands. “He knows Ben’s funeral is today. I’m hoping that will soften the guy up.”

“Really? Oh my gosh, Dane!” Maggie punches him in the arm. “Stop saying stuff like that, you’ll make her feel bad.” She angles back to me. “I’m sorry, Rae. He’s sorry, too.” I fight to hide my smile. Gideon winks at me over her shoulder. “Are you okay, sweetie? I feel terrible about Ben.” She hugs me so tightly it feels more like a headlock than an embrace.

“I will be.” I glance at Gideon. “We’re all going to be fine.” When Maggie pulls back, her eyes shine and she sniffs.

Dane slides his hand around her waist. The gesture is natural, like he’s done it a thousand times, and in his mind, he probably has. “You ready?”

Maggie’s gaze locks onto mine. “No. Yes.”
I love you,
she mouths. “If you need us, we’re a phone call away.”

“I know,” I say. “Thank you. And not just for today …”

She gives my arm a squeeze then passes from Dane’s grasp. My friend marches toward Gideon. On her toes, she stretches up while Gideon leans down to meet her. “Take care of our girl?”

“Always.” He gives her one if his heart-ensnaring smiles.

Dane moves to stand beside me, and I hug his slim waist. He looks down from his dizzying height. His hand cups my cheek and he lowers his mouth to my ear. “If he hurts you, I’ll gut him like a deer.” I let my head fall back and laugh. The action feels foreign but nice. He kisses the top of my head and strolls off to retrieve his new girlfriend.

Gideon settles with his back against a tree. He motions to me with his crooked finger, and I obey, fitting myself snuggly in between his legs. Together we watch my friends as they retreat down the hill to Maggie’s car. “Did you tell him?”

Our big news is that Raedoxx is offering financial aid for one student to attend Armstrong Atlantic, where Maggie’s already been accepted. The newly formed scholarship will benefit a seventeen-year-old, African-American male with red dreadlocks, tattoos, and a bad attitude. Dane’s a shoo-in, but first he needs to get his grades up.

I smile. “Not today, but I will.” I scoot until I can see his face. “You think a scholarship will make him like you?”

Gideon’s mouth pulls on one side. “Probably not, but he’s important to me, because you care about him.” I don’t know what to say to that, so I rest my head against his shoulder. His hand rubs up and down my spine. His chest deflates with his long breath. “It’s getting cold. Do you want to head back?”

“A few more minutes, is that okay?”

“As if anyone could tell you no.”

I laugh. “You tell me no all the time.”

“Well, I
am
the boss.”

I smile against his chest. “That’s not exactly true.”

“Ah, but it is, you just won’t admit it.”

My fingers play with the buttons on his shirt. “Do you no longer aspire to be the king of Maddox Enterprises?”

“I’m happier just being your Gideon. Whatever we decide to do with our futures, we’ll figure it out together.”

I straighten so I can see his eyes. “I sort of like you. You know that?”

“Like?” He gives me his barely-there smile. “I didn’t quite catch that. Do you want to rephrase?”

“I
really
like you?” I pluck up his hands and grip them in mine before kissing his fingers.

“Coward.”

Yup. His chin lifts. His smile is cocky, self-assured as always. Maybe the loss of Ben is still too fresh. Maybe I haven’t processed all we survived. I know he wants me to say I love him, but somehow I can’t. Not yet.

His thumb rubs my cheek. “It’s all right. I can wait. Just tell me who you belong to?”

“You.” I say, without hesitation. I can’t take the intensity in his gaze as he watches me. Nervous, I lean in for a kiss when a murder of crows flies overhead. They land in the tree above us cawing and flapping their wings. As I count them, my mother’s rhyme comes to mind. I recite it for Gideon.

“One for sorrow

Two for mirth

Three for a funeral

Four for a birth

Five for heaven

Six for hell

Seven’s the Devil his own self …

“That’s all I remember. Drives me crazy, I always get stuck after the seventh crow.”

“Hm. I think I can help you.” Gideon’s finger trails slowly down my arm, sending a shiver through me and not from the cold.

“Eight brings wishing

Nine brings kissing

Ten, the love my own heart’s missing.”

“That’s it!” Excited he’s heard the rhyme before; I grab at both of his arms, the solid feel of his biceps a momentary distraction. “How do you know it?”

Gideon’s gaze drops to my hands still clutching his sleeves. Self-conscious, I release my hold, and he answers through a knowing smile. “My mother read to me often when I was sick in bed.”

“Oh.” Remembering I’m not the only one who’s suffered loss, I worry I’ve brought up a bad memory as his focus is drawn across the cemetery. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“There’s nothing you can’t say to me, understand? Nothing.” He meets my gaze. “We’ll be honest with each other and have no secrets between us ever. Deal?”

“Back to deals, are we?” He grins. I run my finger along the seam of his black leather jacket. “I wonder what your parents would have said if they had met me. We’re from such different worlds, you know?”

“I really don’t care. The greatest love stories are built on differences like ours.”

I yank a weed from the ground, continuing on as if he hasn’t spoken. “Yeah, but I’m poor, family scandalized in the news. Your dad would have shown me the door, I bet.” My laugh is harsh, humorless. “Not to mention I’m the love-child of my mother and some guy who skipped out on her.”

The muscles in Gideon’s body coil tightly.

“Whoa!” I squeal, laughing as he twists me around, pinning me underneath him in the thick winter grass.

“Now you listen to me, woman. We’re not comparing worth, remember?” His hands slide up my forearms. He holds my wrists in an unbreakable grip over my head. My chest rises and falls with my panting breaths. His eyes focus on me with fierce intensity. “You are everything I never knew I wanted. I love the way you think and create. I love your loyalty and stubborn pride. The dimple in your right cheek when you laugh, and the way your forehead creases when you challenge me. Most of all, I love when you sleepwalk into my bed late at night, and tell me how you really feel …”

My eyes stretch, and my throat slams shut. “Uh, I what?”

“I love how you weaken in my arms, and the sexy whimper you make when I kiss you below your ear.” My cheeks flame, mouth pops open.

“There will never be anyone for me but you, Raven Weathersby. I knew it from the start. And that’s final.” Gideon’s head lowers, his mouth covering mine in a searing kiss, masterfully silencing any further discussion.

The End

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

No writer births a story without the help of others. God has placed the most wonderful people in my life, and I’m grateful first to Him, and to the following for making this book possible. A huge, HUGE (as in, can I make you breakfast in bed?) thank you to the talented, amazing, and all around nice people listed below:

My husband: tireless listener, flower bestower, moon hanger—you are the triple threat among men, my friend. How did I get so lucky? My girls: Blake and Madelyne, my best friends, first, and way toughest critics ever. Llama face! Love you guys.

My mom and dad, who read to me.

Brittany Booker: dog lover, wish granter, and super-talented agent. Thank you for believing in me and for working so hard. XOXOX

The folks at Month9Books have my undying gratitude for taking a chance on me. Mucho thanks to my editor and hero Georgia McBride, Allie Kincheloe for cat herding and manuscript roping,
Kerry Genova, and
her super-powered proofreading eyeballs, Publicity and Marketing Director extraordinaire, Jaime Arnold, *bows* you are a flipping rock star—truly, Jennifer Million for kind words and organizational skills I can only dream of, and cover artist K. Morris for
her artistic vision. Thank you! These people are whip-smart and chock-f of awesome.

Early beta readers that make up the four writing chambers of my heart, Julie Belfield (plot/story detail savior), Claire Gillian (big picture girl and spotter of heroines ‘too stupid to live’), Stephanie Judice (romance and feels director), and Kathleen Proa (currently holds the glittering grammar tiara). I’d like to say so much more about each of them individually, but all together? This book would be so much less interesting in about a hundred ways without their careful, spot-on advice.

Wendy Higgins and L.S. Murphy, thanks for being so great and agreeing to slog through a pre-pre-edited version and like the book anyway.

To my fans, I love you guys. No one could ask for better support than ya’ll.

And for every reader out there who gives this book a try, I thank you and appreciate you more than you could ever know. ((Hugs)).

JULIE REECE

Born in Ohio, I lived next to my grandfather’s horse farm until the fourth grade. Summers were about riding, fishing and make-believe, while winter brought sledding and ice-skating on frozen ponds. Most of life was magical, but not all.

I struggled with multiple learning disabilities, did not excel in school. I spent much of my time looking out windows and daydreaming. In the fourth grade (with the help of one very nice teacher) I fought dyslexia for my right to read, like a prince fights a dragon in order to free the princess locked in a tower, and I won.

Afterwards, I read like a fiend. I invented stories where I could be the princess… or a gifted heroine from another world who kicked bad guy butt to win the heart of a charismatic hero. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that? Later, I moved to Florida where I continued to fantasize about superpowers and monsters, fabricating stories (my mother called it lying) and sharing them with my friends.

Then I thought I’d write one down…

Hooked, I’ve been writing ever since. I write historical, contemporary, urban fantasy, adventure, and young adult romances. I love strong heroines, sweeping tales of mystery and epic adventure… which must include a really hot guy. My writing is proof you can work hard to overcome any obstacle. Don’t give up. I say, if you write, write on!

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