Dante’s Girl (29 page)

Crap.  I nod.  “I totally forgot.  I’m sorry. But I wasn’t even supposed to be here right now, so surely it isn’t that big a deal.”

“No, it’s fine,” she agrees.  “But I would have liked to have you there.  All Drew and Jason did was stare at me and Alyssa while we did all the work.”

“Well, if you didn’t want people to stare, you shouldn’t have worn a bikini,” I tell her absently.

In my head, I’m already composing an email to Dante.  I have changed my mind about answering him. Even though it makes me sad, it’s better than dealing with this trivial kind of B.S.  And it’s funny.  Now that I’ve come back from Caberra after Dante was almost killed, everything sort of feels like it’s B.S.  It’s sort of good.  It makes me realize the important things in life. 

Like, oh,
life.
 

“Hellooooo?  Reecie-Peecie?  Helllllo?”

I come back to earth and stare at Becca. 

“I’m sorry,” I tell her.  “I was thinking about something else.”

“Don’t you mean some
one
else?” she rolls her eyes.  “I love you, Reecie, but all you do lately is think about him.”

I have to give her that.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize.  “Really.  I just miss him.  It’s really hard.”

And Beck’s eyes soften up then, because she knows.  She misses Quinn like crazy too. They’re still broken up because it’s for the best but Becca is miserable.

“It’s alright,” she tells me.  “Do you want to go into town tonight and get some ice cream?  I think we both need it.  Chocolate chocolate chip. With chunks.  And cookie dough. And maybe hot fudge, too.”

I nod.  “Sure.”  

I really don’t.  But what else am I going to do?  Sit in my room and mope?  Listen to my grandpa’s radio program about the price of hogs?  I think not.  I have some dignity left.

“Okay,” she answers as she crawls to her feet and back down the ladder.  “I’ll see you tonight.”

“K,” I answer.

And I’m alone again. 

I make my way back inside and sit down at the kitchen table.  My grandma is making fresh lemonade, which of course reminds me of Caberra.  Only my grandma doesn’t put mint leaves in hers.  I almost tell her that she should, but then I don’t.  I don’t need another thing to remind me.

As if everything doesn’t remind me of Dante and Caberra anyway.

“Honey,” my grandma says as she turns around and hands me a fresh glass.  “I know you’re miserable. But it will be okay.  Your grandpa and I were separated by thousands of miles when he was in the Army and we turned out okay.”

I stare at her.  “Grandma, that was during a war.  Everyone was separated.  I think  that’s a little different.”

“Perhaps,” she says as she sits next to me and looks at me with her wise old eyes.  “But probably not.  Separation is separation, no matter how you look at it.  And absence does make the heart grow stronger, you know. It’s cliché, but true.”

“It can’t make you stronger if it kills you,” I mutter. 

She pats my hand.

“You’ll be okay,” she tells me again before she gets to her feet and goes to the sink to wash dishes.

I’m really tired of hearing that. 

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out.  Becca probably wants to change our plans for tonight already.  She’s so freaking fickle.

But it’s not her. 

It’s Dante.

Whatcha doing?

I smile. 

Burning alive in the heat.  How about you?

Two seconds go by.

Oh, same. I just wanted you to know that I love you.

I smile again because I know how this game goes.  We’ve been playing it for three weeks.  One of us will say I love you.

Then the other person says,
How much?
 

And then the other makes up some insane and crazy amount of love. 

More than the ocean is large. 

More than a shark loves human limbs. 

More than Gavin loves his reflection. 

More than baseball players love steroids. 

More than chocolate, more than wine and way, way more than anchovies.

More than yesterday, but less than tomorrow. 

It’s a crazy and corny game, but we do what we have to do to keep from going insane. 

Because this distance thing?  It really sucks. 

So I play along today, even though I’m feeling pissy.

How much?
I type.

Dante doesn’t answer immediately which annoys me.  I’m really in the mood to hear how much he loves me.  Because I miss him SoFreakingMuchIMightDie.  Seriously.

“This much.”

It’s his voice.

I whirl around and he is actually here.

In my kitchen. 

This can’t be real. 

But there he is. 

Dante is standing in the doorway, filling it up like only Dante can.  His blue shirt sets off his blue sparkling eyes.  And OHMYGOSH. I’m going to have a heart attack.

My grandma is standing next to him and she looks surprised, too. But she is nowhere near as surprised as I am.  My mouth is hanging open and then I remember that I can move.

I leap from my seat and into his arms.

“Dante!  What are you…how are you… I mean.  OHMYGOSH.”

And I’m kissing him.

And I know my grandma is behind him but I don’t care because I’ve missed him more than a PMS’ing woman misses M&M’s. So I tell him that.

“Touching,” he says wryly as I cinch my arms tighter around his neck.

And kiss him again.

And inhale his Dante smell.  The earth, the sea, the sun.

It’s him.  It’s truly, truly him.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” I tell him. “
How
are you here?”

He shrugs.  “My dad said that things have wound down enough that I could leave.  So here I am.  He knows a few people, you know.  People in the International Foreign Exchange Student Program.”

He’s silent as he watches me. 

And I am watching his blue eyes sparkle.  OhMyGosh I have missed that. 

Wait. What?

I comprehend what he just said.

“Foreign Exchange Student Program?” I repeat.  “You’re here to stay?”

I can’t believe my ears.  This can’t be happening. 

But I think it is.

He nods.

“That’s how much I love you,” he tells me. “I’m coming to hotter-than-hell’s-kitchen-Kansas for my senior year so that I can be with you.  That’s how much.”

I’m stunned.

“That’s a lot,” I admit.  “I think you win.”

He laughs and picks me up and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then I bury my face in his neck like I wanted to the first time I met him. And at this point in time, I don’t seem insane like I would have back then.  I just seem like a girl who’s in total love with her boyfriend.

The joy is bursting out of me.  I can’t contain it and I just want to laugh. 

I feel that giddy.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell him. “Where are you staying?  Who are you exchanging with?”

Because everyone knows that’s how the program works.  A kid from a foreign country comes in, and a local kid goes out. 

“The McKeyan house,” he told me.  And then he grins.

And I have to laugh and shake my head.

“Well played,” I tell him.  “You got rid of Quinn McKeyan. I
told
you that he wasn’t going to be an issue.  I don’t have a crush on him anymore.”

“Well, a smart man doesn’t take any chances,” Dante tells me seriously.  And I laugh again.

“So, Quinn is going to school in Caberra?” I ask.  “I don’t know how you put that together so quickly or without me knowing, but I don’t care. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Oh, I know some people,” he shrugs.  Then he grins impishly again. And I could seriously watch him smile all day.

All. Day. Long.

No lie.

“So,” Dante stares down at me casually like he’s not holding 124 pounds in his arms.  “What’s a person do here for fun?”

“Have you ever heard of cow-tipping?” I ask him innocently.  He shakes his head and I explain and he looks at me dubiously.   And I can’t blame him.  It does sound like a contrived thing. 

“Well, instead of cow-tipping, we could go security guard dodging,” I suggest, as I stare through the back window at Russell casing out my farmhouse. 

Dante laughs. 

“Security-Guard-Dodging?  That’s my girl.”

And he grabs my hand and we dart out the front door, leaving Russell standing in my back yard as we run outside and jump into my car.

And happiness bubbles up in me again and I grin. 

Because Dante is right. I’m his girl.

I know it’s true because Dante Giliberti left paradise and came all the way to Hell’s Kitchen to prove it. 

And because of that, I finally know that what Dante has been saying all along is true.  Love is all that matters. 

It’s all we need. 

I smile and turn the key and we tear off down my driveway as dust billows behind us. 

And I know that Dante was right about something else, too.

Everything really will be okay.

If you enjoyed
Dante’s Girl
by Courtney Cole and if you also enjoy Paranormal Romance, then you might enjoy Courtney Cole’s
Bloodstone Saga.
 

The Bloodstone Saga:

Born a goddess. Controlled by the Fates. Can Macy's love for her soul mate survive the bonds of time... and death?
The Bloodstone Saga is a series of four YA Paranormal Romance novels (and one bonus novella) following the life of one girl who has been tricked by the Fates into believing that she is a Keeper.
She is reborn time and time again into tragic lives with tragic ends. Time and time again, she loses her soul mate. Until finally, she comes face to face with who she really is and the earth-shattering realization changes everything.
Every Last Kiss
Fated
With My Last Breath
My Tattered Bonds
House of Thebes (Novella)

In these four books and bonus novella, one girl is confronted with lies, happiness, treachery, magic and myth. She learns how strong she really is and what sacrifices she is truly prepared to make for those that she loves. Heartbreaking, poignant and emotional, these books will tug at your heart-strings and leave you breathless for more.
What would you do if you held fate in your hands?

For your reading pleasure, we have included an excerpt from Book One of the
Bloodstone Saga
,
Every Last Kiss.
 

Excerpt:

Hasani was gone when I woke and I squeezed my eyes shut against the light from the flickering wall sconces.  He must have lit them for me before he left and even in my grumpy morning mood, I had to smile at his consideration.  I pulled the covers over my head and rested my cheek against the comfort of my pillow for a few minutes longer before I finally sighed and emerged into the reality of daytime. 

It couldn’t be much past daybreak, since the orange fingers of the sun were just starting to curl around the horizon.  Hasani must have risen early to run drills with his soldiers before the Alexandrian heat rolled in.  Antony was probably with him. 

I got up quickly, tying a soft white scarf around my waist and putting on a jeweled golden brassiere.   As I pulled my hair away from my face and fastened gold earrings into my ears, I briefly pondered my older body.  As Charmian, I may be thirty-nine, but my body was as svelte as a teen’s.  Fascinating.  It probably had a lot to do with the fact that ancient Egyptians didn’t have French fries or ice cream.

 Sitting down at my vanity table, I pulled out the multiple jars required for my daily skin care and cosmetics application, sighing as I did.  As Macy, I was a very low-key, low-maintenance person. Charmian’s intricate, Egyptian beauty regime was tiresome.  But I had to admit that it was effective.  I had a perfect complexion.

Dipping my fingers in a jar of scented oil, I glanced back into the mirror as I began to apply it.  And froze with my fingers at the base of my neck.

A woman, pale and beautiful, sat on the bed behind me as though she belonged there.  Her eyes were ice blue and her long hair was so blonde that it was snow white. I whirled around to face her.

“How did you get in here?” I demanded.  “How did you get past the guards?”

She smiled peacefully at me, but didn’t answer.

“Can you speak?” I asked.  “Who are you?”

She studied me again, unmoving and silent from her perch on my bed.  She wore silvery robes embroidered with rich blue which were spread around her and her long fingernails were silver.  They sparkled in the muted light from my window.  She reminded me of what a fairy would be like.  An odd sensation began to build in my chest and I hesitated.

“Who are you?” I whispered again.

   “You know who I am,” she said gently, as she rose from the bed.  She was so graceful that it seemed as though she floated as she walked toward me. 

“I don’t,” I argued, as she came to a stop behind me. 

“You do,” she insisted softly, as she placed her hands on my shoulders.  And in that instant, the second that her hands touched me, I did.

I was standing face to face with Lachesis, the middle sister of the Fates.  Terrifying and powerful, the last time I had seen her, she had been an ancient, stooped hag.  My eyes flew in amazement to her lovely, young face.

She smiled.

“I can appear as I wish, Charmian,” she said lightly.  “You are beautiful.  So, of course I wanted to appear beautiful, as well.  I have no wish to scare you.”

“Then what is your wish?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes locked on her face.

She reached past me and picked up the jar of oil, dipping her long fingers into it. Picking up my arm, she gently began rubbing the scented oil into my skin as she spoke. 

“You are one of twelve, Charmian.  Did you know that?” I shook my head, instantly intrigued.