Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2) (30 page)

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Authors: Patricia B. Tighe

BOOK: Life in the Lucky Zone (The Zone #2)

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He gave his head a quick shake. “Because it’s temporary. What happens if your luck turns bad? Would you think it was my fault?”

“No, of course not.”

He huffed out a breath. “Really.” A statement, not a question.

I pulled away and walked to the other end of the pool. Was he right? Did I think of Berger as temporary? Just someone I enjoyed being around but would drop as soon as things went bad? No. Absolutely not. And what did it say about me that he would even think that? I ran my fingers over my bracelets, then let go, just like I needed to let go of the lucky boy thing.

I didn’t need him to be lucky for me. Just to be with me.

I walked back and took his hands in mine, letting their warmth give me strength. “I don’t think of you as temporary at all. I’ll stop thinking of you as my lucky boy if you want.”

He kissed the tip of my nose. “I
do
want. Just think of me as your boy.”

I couldn’t stop my smile. “No adjective?”

“No adjective.”

“Not even sweet? My sweet boy?”

He scrunched up his face. “I don’t know. There’s still my rep to consider.”

I laughed. “Okay then. We’ll stick with my Dragon Boy.”

He grinned. “That’s much better.”

I grinned back. “Come on,” I said, “let’s go inside and get something to drink.”

“Okay.”

I took his hand, and we headed for the door. But as we passed the lounge chairs, he stopped. “Hang on.” He scooped up the book he’d brought.

“What’s with the book, anyway?” I asked.

“Plan B,” he said. “If you didn’t forgive me.”

“Plan B,” I said, trying not to laugh. “Now I’m curious.”

He held up the book. “Remember how you wanted me to read you a poem that one time?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I thought tonight might call for poetry reading, you know, bringing out the big guns.”

I laughed. “Poetry is the big guns?”

“Oh, the scorn,” he said, moving toward a lamp hanging near the yard. He flipped open the book. “Since I love you, I figured a love poem would be bes—”

What?
I slammed into him, sending him staggering back into the lawn and landing on his back—with me on top. Not my most graceful moment, but my heart was pounding too hard for me to care. “You love me?” I asked, my voice coming out high and squeaky.

He laughed. “Well, yeah. Haven’t I mentioned that?”

I squeezed his shoulders. “No, you
haven’t mentioned that
,” I said, mimicking him.

“Well, I do,” he said, taking my face in his hands and bringing it down to his. How could a kiss be both searing and tender at the same time? Because that’s what it was. I melted against him, and for several seconds there was nothing in the world but his lips and his warmth.

But I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to tell him. I broke off the kiss with a gasp. “I love you, too.”

He traced my lower lip with his thumb. “Oh, good. That’s convenient.”

I chuckled, then wriggled against him.

He made a deep noise in his throat. “As much as I’m enjoying this, you need to get off me so I can read this poem to you.”

“I don’t need the poem. I have you.”

He smiled. “Trust me. You want to hear this.”

Oh, well. This probably wasn’t the best position to be caught in anyway. I rolled off. “All right.”

We crawled back toward the lamp and sat cross-legged in the grass, facing each other. He flipped through the pages of the book until he found what he was looking for. “Okay, you ready?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“‘Love’s Philosophy’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley,” he said, reading slowly, as though he wanted me to take in every single word.

“‘The fountains mingle with the river

And the rivers with the Ocean,

The winds of Heaven mix for ever

With a sweet emotion;

Nothing in the world is single;

All things by a law divine

in one spirit meet and mingle.

Why not I with thine?’”

He twined the fingers of one hand with mine.

“‘See the mountains kiss high Heaven

And the waves clasp one another;

No sister-flower would be forgiven

If it disdained its brother;

And the sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea:

What are all these kissings worth

If thou kiss not me?’”

He looked up from the book, his face a mixture of expectation and uncertainty. Warmth flooded my chest. I slid my fingertips across his cheek. “I think,” I whispered, “I want you to read that to me every day.”

He smiled. “Be happy to, Drama Queen.”

I kissed him. “Thank you, Dragon Boy.”

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to everyone who supported me during my mad dash to write this book.

To Georgia McBride and the entire publishing team at Swoon Romance, thanks for having faith in me. A special shout out to copyeditor extraordinaire Annie Cosby for going beyond the call of duty in answering my questions.

To my critique partners/beta readers/fabulous writers: Emilie Bishop, Danielle Hinesly, Sara Lyon, Kate Martin, and Daphne Riordan. Thank you for providing feedback so quickly on this book. Your input was invaluable!

To Steven, David, Megan, and Topher: Thanks for your love, encouragement, and support. You’re the best family a writer can have! And thanks again, Topher, for helping with the video game scene. Any mistakes there are totally mine.

And, as always, I want to thank God, for making all this possible.

PATRICIA B. TIGHE

The mother of two grown sons, Patricia B. Tighe lives in El Paso, Texas, with her husband and two dogs. Her love of the written word caused her to get a journalism degree from Texas A&M University in 1980 and an MA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University in 2008. When not writing, Patricia can be found walking the dogs or yelling at the TV during an NFL game. Or, if she’s really lucky, exploring a foreign country with her extended family.

www.patriciabtighe.com

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