When Sparks Fly (44 page)

Blake walked arm in arm off the stage with Renee. He smiled. The surprise went off just as he’d planned.

I love it when a plan comes together.

Renee was silent. Words evaded her. The shock of a gold record that hadn’t even been produced in a recording studio, the offer of a contract, and Blake, the snot, keeping it all a secret. She smiled. Life was so good.

“You ok?”

“Yeah, better than okay.”

Renee stopped and faced Blake.

“Honey, I’m sorry I was such a bitch. I’ve learned my lesson. When you say trust me, I will trust you from now on. Forgive me?”

Blake took Renee in his arms and just held her.

“I love you, Renee. I only want the best for you, always.”

The kiss that sealed Blake’s words was so sweet and so tender it took Renee’s breath away.

“No more doubts, okay? You have another set to do. Are you gonna be okay?”

“More than okay. Let’s go.”

Renee and Blake walked back up the steps.

Renee owned the stage for the next hour. Song after song showed her strength and maturity in performance from when she first began. Blake enjoyed watching Renee perform, and, surprisingly, he was enjoying the adrenaline rush from being back on stage again.

“Well, folks, I just got the high sign. The fireworks are about to begin. What an evening, huh? I can’t thank you enough for coming out tonight and supporting this wonderful community celebration.

“Now, it’s my turn. I have a surprise of my own.”

Renee turned, her back to the crowd, as she addressed Blake.

“Blake McIntyre, love of my life, please sit on this stool and be quiet for a few minutes.”

Renee took a step toward the microphone, grabbed the stand and placed it closer to Blake. She picked a few notes on her six string before beginning to sing the song she’d written for him.

Just as the beautiful bursts of color lit up the warm summer sky, Renee directed her words to the man of her dreams.

It’s really true. Love sets you on fire When Sparks Fly.

The End

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

Author Information

More books by Maryann Jordan

A Fairfield Series Novella

by
Maryann Jordan

Copyright © 2015 Maryann Jordan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design by: Andrea Michelle, Artistry in Design

Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll

Formatter: Paul Salvette, BB eBooks

First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, this book would not be possible without his support. To my daughters, MaryBeth and Nicole, I taught you to follow your dreams and now it is time for me to take my own advice. You two are my inspiration.

My best friend, Tammie, who for nineteen years has been with me through thick and thin. You’ve filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister.

My dear friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all – keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader, but my friend.

Going from blogger to author has allowed me to have the friendships and advice of several wonderful authors who always answered my questions, helped me over rough spots, and cheered me on. To Kristine Raymond, you gave me the green light when I wondered if I was crazy and you never let me give up. MJ Nightingale and Andrea Michelle – you two have made a huge impact on my life. Anna Mychals, EJ Shorthall, Victoria Brock, Jen Andrews, Andrea Long, A.d. Ellis, ML Steinbrunn, Sandra Love, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Shannon Brandee Eversoll has been my editor for the past three books and what she brings to my writing has been amazing. My street team, Jordan Jewels, you all are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!

My Personal Assistant Barbara Martoncik is the woman that keeps me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only her assistance, but her friendship.

This is another wonder cover created by Andrea Michelle from Artistry in Design and her talent is evident in every detail. Thank you for working with me.

As the owner of the blog, Lost in Romance Books, I know the selflessness of bloggers. We promote indie authors on our own time because we believe fully in the indie author community. I want to thank the many bloggers that I have served with, and who are assisting in promoting my series.

Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your home for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.

If you read my books and enjoy them, please leave a review. It does not have to be long or detailed…just that you enjoyed the book. Reviews are essential to indie authors!

This novella is devoted to my readers and fans. When I first wrote Emma’s Home and Laurie’s Time, so many readers contacted me to see if I was going to write Brock and Jean’s story. At the time, I was moving on to Carol’s Image and then the Love’s Series. When I was asked to write for this anthology, I knew that it was my chance to give back to my readers’ requests and give them Brock and Jean…plus a chance to reconnect with the wonderful characters of Fairfield.

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Chapter One

The brisk March winds were still blowing as Brock came in from his morning run. He loved the feel of his muscles warming first thing every morning as his heart pounded to the rhythm of his feet. Coming out of the path from the woods into the clearing near the drill field, he saw the new recruits straggling along, trying to keep up with their Drill Sergeants. One of the Sergeants glanced over at him, a slight nod the only sign of breaking the formation. Brock smiled as he slowed his pace to allow his body to cool off. He had been a part of those early morning runs for over twenty years and now…even though he could lie in bed as long as he would like, old habits were hard to break.

He jogged over to his truck where he did the final stretches. A few more twinges were felt as he ruefully thought of his age. Forty-five was not old…but then he sure as hell was not a young recruit anymore. But that was all right. With age came wisdom…or so he had told himself over and over the years.

Arriving back at his apartment, he took a quick shower before throwing on his jeans and a faded Army t-shirt. As he walked down the hall toward his kitchen, he glanced at the photographs along the wall. The pictures were mostly of him and his soldier buddies over the years—from young, idealistic recruits to serving in Desert Shield to Desert Storm to leading young men through their boot camps here at the base. These men over the years had been his family, since his parents and younger sister had all passed away. As his eyes moved along the picture frames he realized how many of his friends had died as well.

There were times such as now, when the realization that he was alone struck him. The only friends he had were still on the base and much younger than he was. He had never married and the occasional woman from a bar served his baser needs and quite frankly, that had slowed down as well.
Hell, I’m only forty-five years old, not ancient and certainly not dead.
But lately, he had to admit to himself, that a morose feeling of life having passed him by had begun to creep into his consciousness.

Sucking in a deep breath, he stretched his back as he stood a little taller staring into the faces of those who had gone before him. Giving himself a mental shake, he moved into the neat kitchen and started the coffee pot.

Pouring a cup of coffee, he was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Not one to get many visitors he hoped it was not someone selling something. He hated being rude but his life was simple. Walking over, he opened the door and looked into the eyes of a large, handsome young man. Dark hair neatly trimmed, but not trimmed enough to make him a soldier. Blue eyes, with a wary look in them, that were staring directly into his.

“Can I help you?” Brock asked.

Without hesitation the young man introduced himself. “I’m Rob MacDonald. I’m looking for Brock Sinclair.”

“I’m Brock. What can I do for you?”

The young man seemed to hesitate as though weighing his words carefully. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m looking for a Brock Sinclair, who was in the Army on leave in July, twenty-five years ago in the Richland area.”

At this, Brock’s eyes narrowed in suspicion wondering what the young man was searching for. “Well now, that’s a very specific description of someone. I think perhaps I might need to know why you’re looking for that person before we continue this conversation.”

Rob nodded, “Fair enough, sir.” Taking a big breath, Rob continued. “The man I’m lookin’ for met a beautiful young woman and spent one night with her. I don’t know what happened the next mornin’, but nine months later that young woman gave birth to an equally beautiful daughter. A daughter with grey eyes.”

Brock’s eyes opened wide at this point. He carefully considered Rob, weighing his story. Stepping backward, he motioned for Rob. “I think perhaps you should come in.”

Stepping into the apartment, Rob noticed right away that it was neat and clean. The walls, covered in pictures, depicted mostly photographs of young soldiers.

Brock looked at where Rob’s attention lay. “Twenty-four years in the Army; I suppose these men I served with over the years are my family. Started out in Desert Storm, did tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as trained many young soldiers right here at the base.”

Offering Rob a seat, he stated, “But it seems you aren’t here to look at my military memorabilia.”

“No sir, although I am in awe of your service.”

Brock just nodded as he sat across from Rob. “So I take it you’re here because you think that I’m the father of the girl you speak of.”

“My friend was raised by her single mother, who gave birth to her when she was only sixteen.”

Brock’s startled expression gave away he had no idea how young Sarah had been at the time.