I stood up as he did and wrapped my arms around his neck, kissing his lips and laughing through my tears. I looked down at the ring box that was open, and my eyes widened, the largest diamond I had ever seen was sparkling up at me. He reached into the box and pulled it out, taking my hand and slipping it onto my finger. I spread my hand out and looked at it, amazed at how it sparkled. I turned back to Nathan and hugged him again, this time pressing my lips long, hard, and passionately against his. I could feel the love pulsing through every inch of me, circling us like a bubble on the rooftop. I pulled back and stared him deep in his eyes.
“I love you, Nathan,” I said. “I cannot wait to be your wife.”
I knew right then and there that happily ever after was real, and I had found mine.
Ssh…Don’t Tell - An Exclusive Romance Novel
Chapter 1
“Well, Mister McWaters, let me be the first to welcome you to the city...to Fort Wayne,” the real estate agent said, extending his arm to shake his client’s hand. “I think this city will have just what you’re looking for when it comes to investment opportunities.”
Darren shook Doug’s hand and then the two men stood up. Darren had flown in from Chicago earlier in the day and was planning to spend the night in Fort Wayne. His only reason for being in Ft. Wayne was to meet with this real estate agent about purchasing some rental property in the area. The market was good, the prices were even better, and the demand was supposedly only going to rise in the coming years. Coming from a prominent, real-estate-invested family in Chicago, Darren knew how to look for an opportunity. And now, thanks to Doug Sharp’s help, Darren had finally secured some rental property after a few months of coming back and forth.
“Thank you,” Darren said.
“Well, I have to get going now,” Doug said. He looked around at The Blue Ivy, a small but cozy bar and restaurant in the heart of Downtown Ft. Wayne. “It really was a pleasure working with you and meeting you.” The real estate agent gathered any documents that belonged in his folder off of the table then pushed in his chair. “Also, if you should have any other problems or need more information about the local real estate market should you get to the point where you think you’re ready to invest more, don’t hesitate to call my office, Mister McWaters.” The graying, middle-aged man smiled then walked at his client’s side towards the door.
“Absolutely,” Darren said.
Darren walked alongside Doug out to the sidewalk. A festival was in town, so the streets were a bit busier than usual. On top of that, a baseball game was happening just a couple of blocks over from the bar. Darren looked down the street as cars lined up out into the street as stadium goers tried to get into the stadium’s parking lot. The 6’2”, brown-haired former frat boy wondered himself what he would be doing for the evening. His flight back to Chicago left at 10:30 the next morning.
The 33-year-old man shook his agent’s hand once again and then the two parted ways. Darre
n looked down at his phone, wondering if he’d gotten any emails or calls. With the fall wind whipping down the street, he ran his hand through his hair then decided to head back into the bar. With it going on 7 o’clock in the evening, Darren wasn’t opposed to having a little something to help him feel good. He figured he could look around online and figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of the night, if he wanted to do anything at all.
Darren stepped back in The Blue Ivy and zigzagged through the clusters of chairs. He approached the bar and waited on a couple of already-waiting couples to give the bartender their drink orders. Once the couples walked away, he lifted himself up onto a stool and leaned over the counter while he waited on the bartender – a woman – to come back over to serve him.
Shortly after scanning through a couple of emails, Darren looked up and noticed a different bartender coming his way. This woman had just zipped out of the back, somewhere in the kitchen. Her long, blond hair swayed with every step she took. Her clear skin glowed under the bar lights. The 5’3 woman made a couple of drinks so quickly and efficiently, Darren wouldn’t doubt if she could do it in her sleep. He watched how she moved – how she did her job and smiled graciously to any and everyone – then she headed over toward him.
“Hey, what can I get you?” the woman asked, leaning over on the bar. Darren managed to control himself long enough to look into her eyes rather than her chest.
Darren smiled. “Yeah, can I just get a Heineken? No rush.”
“Okay, I’ll get it for you,” the woman said.
Darren said thank you then once again watched the bartender rush around the bar. Even though he only heard her say a few words, there was something about her that seemed to be genuine – so soft, yet not like a pushover. Her blue jean shorts exposed a rose tattoo on her thigh. The moments she came closer to Darren’s side of the bar, he tried to look at the tattoo and make out the wording, but her constantly moving made it hard. Still, the perkiness of her chest continuously stole the man’s attention. Darren guessed it to be a nice, full C-cup as well as a bit bouncy. Before Darren knew it, the woman, who looked to be in her mid to late twenties, was headed back his way with his Heineken.
“Here you go,” she said, setting the drink on the bar.
“Thank you,” Darren said. He smiled, letting some of his charm shine through.
“No problem. Just let me know if you need anything.” She smiled.
Darren watched the woman make a few more drinks then start to clean shelves and configure things under the counter nearby. He looked down into his phone as much as he could, but got to a point where he had to say something to her. Why had he been so drawn to this woman? After all, he did come from a family that was very class conscience. Several of his aunts and uncles were people who barely even made eye contact with lower-class people, much less purposely engaged in conversation with them.
Just as Darren was about to speak, another bar employee popped out of the back. “Sherry, what did you do with that bucket of towels?” the raspy-voiced, sassy woman asked. “And don’t say it wasn’t you because I know you had it.”
Her name is Sherry, Darren thought.
“Well, dang, Samantha,” Sherry said, turning around swiftly. “Why don’t you go and get a bullhorn and stand out in the street and announce it, huh?”
Darren chuckled at the woman’s wit, as did several employees within ear shot.
“It’s under the sink, like I told you,” Sherry said. “I know I put it there, so don’t even try to say I didn’t.”
Samantha rolled her eyes then turned away, disappearing into the back. Sherry shook her head as she wiped down shelves where a wine rack had once been. Darren had been noticing how busy the bar was relative to its size, as it didn’t look like the kind of place that would normally be this kind of crowded. “Busy night, huh?’
Sherry shook her head. “Yeah, you can say that. Some of these people in here don’t know how to work a busy night, ‘cause we usually aren’t that busy.”