All This Love (Stoneworth Series Book 2) Read online

  All This Love

  Book #2 in the Stoneworths Series

  by Michelle Stimpson

  Copyright © 2016 Michelle Stimpson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for brief quotations in reviews, without written permission from the author.

  The characters in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or events is coincidental.

  Published by Read For Joy, an Imprint of MLStimpson Enterprises.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks and honor be to the Lord for all His goodness. Writing for His glory is my pleasure and joy. I’m honored to be in His service through this and many other venues.

  Thanks to my family, friends, and the writers who continue to inspire me. A special “thanks” to Allison at Care Now Clinic, who freely shared information that helped make me understand how emergency clinics work.

  Finally, to those dedicated readers who continue to support my books. I dedicate this book to you!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Discussion Questions

  About the Author

  More Books by Michelle Stimpson

  Chapter 1

  The party was a huge success. Knox Stoneworth’s parents, Reth and Carolyn, had celebrated thirty-five years of marriage surrounded by everyone they loved—brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, and of course their own five children. Knox, the oldest, had taken it upon himself to make sure that this occasion was second to none. He and his siblings—except the baby girl, Rainey, who was still in college—contributed financially to reserve the Country Club ballroom, secure one of the most sought-after soul food caterers, and book a live band with a reputation for keeping any party alive with classic and contemporary gospel hits.

  Their parents deserved the best.

  The only part of the evening that Knox hadn’t planned for was the pounding rain. It took a few minutes for the hems of their evening gowns and slacks to dry out, but once they got settled inside the beautifully decorated room, there were no complaints. It had been a wonderful evening.

  The wait staff had begun the clean-up and the guests were starting to leave since the storm was finished running its course. Knox was tired. More tired than just about everyone else since he’d been the master planner.

  This was the last time he’d do something like this without hiring help.

  Actually, when the idea to have a thirty-fifth anniversary celebration was being tossed around, Knox thought he’d have some help, in the form of a wife. Dominique.

  “Baby, I’ll call the Country Club. We have to get on their calendar early if we want the date,” she had said.

  “The Country Club?” Knox had given her the side-eye. Dominique had caviar dreams on a Lit’l Smokies budget.

  “Yes. I mean, we can’t afford to have our reception there, but with your family’s help, we can have your parents’ anniversary there. It will be the talk of the town and the church.”

  Knox felt his stomach tighten. Every time Dominique reminded him that he wasn’t yet making quite enough money for her tastes, it was like a blow to his manhood. Being a veterinarian kept him far from the poorhouse, but he was nowhere near the penthouse. That would take time. Ambition. Darn-near a political campaign to rise from a regular staff member to chief of staff, then medical director or regional medical director. Those vets at the top of Mayfield Pet Hospitals were well into six-figures.

  If the doors didn’t open up at Mayfield, Knox would spread his entrepreneurial wings, start a private practice, and create products to sell in pet stores. All it took was the phrase “created by a veterinarian” for consumers to put faith and a few more dollars into a bag of high-quality dog food.

  Better days were coming, that was for sure. But Dominique had to be patient for now. After four years of undergrad, four years of vet school, and a year’s residency, Knox had only been in practice two years. Still paying back student loans. Still learning the kinds of things that only experience could provide. He knew this.

  Yet, Dominique’s underhanded comments about what they couldn’t afford, Knox second-guess himself. Am I really as gifted and good as everyone says I am, or are they all lying to me? Am I lying to myself? When will the other shoe drop?

  “Oh come on, Knox-y. For me?” She cooed, running a hand under his chin.

  Her touch alone convinced him that he needed to do whatever possible to please this woman. She was beautiful. Smelled like roses. Hair long and luxurious, with a smile that charged him from the inside out. She could be bossy sometimes, but Knox could live with it. No one’s perfect.

  He had acquiesced, easing back onto the sofa, feeling her soft flesh against his back and reveling in the moment. “I’ll call my brothers and calculate a budget.”

  “Knox. This is their thirty-fifth anniversary. Throw caution to the wind for once. Stop letting money determine what you’ll do. Determine what you want to do first, and then find a way to make it happen.” She spouted her financial philosophy into his ear.

  When he repeated it to his brothers, Braxton, Jarvis, and West a week later over dinner, they had looked at him like he was crazy.

  “Sounds like the broke-folks’-anthem to me,” Jarvis renounced. “I say we talk to Uncle Bush about having it at his house.”

  “We’re always using Uncle Bush’s house.”

  “Because it’s amazing,” West said.

  “And it’s free,” Braxton noted with a nod.

  “Since when are Stoneworths cheap?” Knox asked.

  “Since when do Stoneworths try to impress people?” Jarvis quipped. “There’s nothing magic about a Country Club. This celebration is about family. God. Food. Fun. All four can be had at Uncle Bush’s or even Uncle Hiro’s with ease and class.”

  “Mom and Dad would probably feel better with family, anyway,” Braxton seconded.

  What they didn’t know was that Knox had already reserved the Country Club and paid the nonrefundable deposit upon his future-wife’s advice.

  Three years, two big family arguments, and one terrible dumped-at-the-altar breakup later, Knox could only thank God for how well this party turned out. He’d thought of throwing in the towel several times, partly because he had made his brothers angry, mostly because he never thought he’d be attending this party alone, without Dominique.

  But, prayerfully, he and the fellows got past their differences. Knox regrouped. And tonight, seeing all the love in his parents’ eyes as they professed their devotion and adoration for one another at the head table, Knox knew that all the struggles had been worth it.

  He’d delegated the after-party duties to Braxton and his fiancé, Tiffany. They were to pay the vendors and make sure the party favors were distributed. Rainey was to gather the gifts and take them back to the house. Jarvis was to whisk his parents to the airport to catch their flight to a Jamaican resort that very night. Their bags were already in his car. West would handle anything else that popped up.

  Knox was out. Ready for a long-deserved rest.

  He hugged his parents. “I’m out.”

  “Oh, Knox,” his mother singsonged, “Everything was perfect.”

  “You kids really did it tonight,” his
father agreed with a most approving smile.

  “Thanks. You guys are the best parents we could have asked for,” Knox said.

  The photographer captured the moment with a flash.

  “You got your tickets and passports?” Knox double-checked.

  “Right here.” His father tapped his chest. “Son. I know you’ve been rippin’ and runnin’ all week to get the party together. Job well done. You go get some rest now.”

  “Will do.”

  After a round of good-bye hugs with his siblings, family, and friends that were still gathered, Knox jogged to his Jeep Cherokee. Thunder cracked through the sky, illuminating the clouds, which were heavy with the promise of more rain to come.

  Glad that he’d found a relatively calm window to run out and get in his car, Knox wasted no time starting the engine and beginning the twenty-minute drive home. Make that fifteen—he remembered a shortcut. He drove to the back exit of the Country Club and started down a less-traveled but straight-shot road to the main highway.

  Already, Knox could hear his bed calling. Knox! Come back! I miss you! I need you!

  “I need you, too, baby,” he spoke out loud, laughing to himself, thinking that he must be delirious with exhaustion.

  He passed a car in the ditch with its lights flashing. Briefly, he glanced inside and noticed there were no passengers inside. Must have already gotten help. He was thankful on behalf of whoever that person was because tonight would have been a terrible night to be stranded on this side of this dark road.

  The steady beat of his windshield wipers threatened to lull him into a trance, so he turned on the CD player and refreshed himself with some old school gospel. Rance Allen was more his father’s speed; however, Knox was quickly starting to develop an appreciation for real music. Must be getting old.

  A minute later, Knox squinted as he saw a woman’s figure walking along the side of the road. She carried two bags, one on either arm. His heart leapt. Rainey? No. It couldn’t be Rainey. She was still at the party with her weird-acting boyfriend, Elvin, who had better not ever let Rainey walk outside in the rain.

  Knox’s foot instinctively pressed on the brake. The woman’s rain-soaked pants and a hooded shirt clung to curves Knox would have to ignore for now.

  As he got closer, the doctor in him observed a slight limp in her gait.

  He slowed even more, matching her pace as he approached her.

  She scooted closer to the grass, perhaps to let him pass.

  Knox turned off the music and rolled down the passenger’s window. Rain came pouring into the car. “Hello!” he yelled to her.

  She motioned for him to drive on.

  “Are you okay?”

  Her brown face flashed at him momentarily from beneath a hoodie. With the rain pounding, he couldn’t get a clear view of her features. He did, however, see the gash above her left eye.

  “Hello!” he called again.

  “Go away!”

  Still crawling along beside her in his vehicle, Knox began to assess the situation medically. This woman was walking around in the dark with a limp and a gash. She must have been the woman whose car crashed in the ditch a mile back. Perhaps she’d hit her head in the accident and become disoriented. Confused. In shock.

  “Ma’am, I’m a doctor. Would you please get inside?” Never mind what kind of doctor he was right now.

  She kept walking. Faster.

  Knox couldn’t leave her like this, but he couldn’t kidnap her either. And the interior of his passenger’s side would be soaked if he talked to her like this for the next three miles.

  He yelled again, “I’m going to call the police.”

  She froze. “No!”

  “Then how can I help you?”

  “You don’t have to help me.”

  That’s where she was wrong. If he called himself a man of God, called himself a Stoneworth, called himself a human being and had rescued animals on the side of the road, there was no way Knox would leave an injured woman walking outside in the pouring rain. Even though she wasn’t his sister as he’d first fathomed, she was somebody’s sister. Somebody’s daughter. Somebody’s something.

  “I’m calling 9-1-1.”

  “No!” She grabbed the door’s handle.

  Knox slammed on his brakes, unlocked the car and let her in. Truth was, he’d almost been frightened by her sudden change of heart.

  She dropped her bags at her feet.

  They sat in silence for a few seconds after Knox raised the window from his console pad.

  He heard her raspy, shallow breaths. She was afraid. Any woman would be, under the circumstances.

  He turned the air conditioner on heat, a gesture he hoped she would receive without another near-argument.

  “Where to?”

  “You tell me—you’re the hero who insists on saving me,” she smarted off, still hiding her face beneath the hood.

  “I’m no hero. I’m only trying to help,” Knox stated for the record. Despite the darkness, he could see the whites of her fearful eyes staring back at him.

  She removed her hood. The outline of her batch of wild, natural curls sprung up in its place.

  Initially, Knox activated the overhead light in order to explore the cut and give her his assessment of her would. But he found himself tongue-tied and staring, instead, at her soft brown eyes, heart-shaped face, the cupid’s bow at the top of her full lips, and radiant glow of her rain-slick mocha skin. This was one beautiful woman.

  Chapter 2

  Jada Jones wasn’t ready. All the air flew right out of her chest when he switched on the light and she beheld the stranger’s rich brown skin, chiseled nose and chin, immaculate goatee, dark eyes, and smooth lips. Did he star in a movie?

  Jada was no stranger to good-looking men. This one here, though, took the cake. And the ice cream. And the punch.

  She had been blessed, or cursed depending on how one looked at it, with the kind of body that inspired money-makin’ rap songs and videos. Her curves had come long before she knew how to handle the attention they garnered, which set her at odds with men and their oogling ways. More than once, she’d had to knee somebody in the groin for trying to go further than she wanted.

  She hoped this guy wouldn’t try anything with her because, at the moment, she didn’t have the energy to slay a brother. Plus, she kind of needed a ride to a shelter. Men don’t drive well when they can’t sit up straight.

  “Do you mind if I take a look at the cut?”

  How could she say no? Actually, how could she say anything with him leaning over the armrest, his hands drawing near? She could feel the warmth of them already. The touch of his fingers against her face sent an unexpected zing through her body. She jumped from both the excitement and the pain.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just trying to gage the depth.”

  “I’m okay,” Jada all but whimpered.

  He sat back into his seat, taking with him the musky scent of his cologne. “You need stitches.”

  Jada could hardly focus on the words coming from his amazingly perfect lips. “Huh?”

  “I said you need stitches. Which hospital would you like to go to?”

  “Oh. I can’t go to a hospital. I don’t have insurance.”

  The man’s eyes widened, like he’d never heard the term “no insurance” before.

  Jada looked out her window, embarrassed by his expression. People like him—whose lives were all perfect, who went around finding women to rescue in their fancy cars and thought everyone had health insurance—got on her nerves.

  “How about a 24-hour clinic? They’re pretty reasonable, and they take cash,” he suggested with a tinge of hopefulness in his voice.

  “I don't have enough for that.” The words came out bland, but her throat stung with resentment. He must be one of those book-smart people with no common sense. If she had a job, she would have insurance. If she had insurance, she wouldn’t need a clinic. But since she had neither job nor insurance, she certainly
didn’t have extra cash lying around for a clinic. Duh!

  “I’ll pay for it,” he offered.

  “Negative.”

  Hail pelted hard and fast against the car now.

  “Look, a wound like that needs stitches. Otherwise, it’ll probably take forever to heal and get infected along the way,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Either I pay for the clinic or I’m taking you to the county hospital. The choice is yours.”

  “Or I could just get out of the car and keep walking.”

  “In which case I would call for help because that would mean you’re delirious,” he said.

  “Ugh.” Why does my roadside rescuer have to be so logical? Alerting law enforcement wasn’t on her list of things to do.

  Jada had spent a lifetime dealing with county healthcare. Her situation wasn’t dire, but she just might die waiting for the doggone stitches. “Fine. The clinic.”

  They rode in silence to a well-lit shopping center a few miles down the highway. The stores had closed by then. The clinic at the corner had six cars in the lot. Jada hoped that five of them belonged to the employees so they wouldn’t have to stay long. She could have this procedure done and then…well, the rest could be decided later.

  Once parked, the man hopped out of his seat and made a move to her side of the car. What in the world?

  He was doing it. He was opening the car door for her, just like she’d seen in old movies and television shows.

  I know he’s a Huxtable now.

  Jada stepped out of the SUV, taking both her bags.

  She walked with the man toward the clinic doors.

  He was tall. Well over six feet. Broad-shouldered, muscular build, with a confident swag in his stride.

  Jada knew his type. And she couldn’t wait to get away from him.

  Once inside, the man took a seat while Jada approached the reception counter. “Hi—”

  “Ooh!” the attendant said, staring at Jada’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re here!”

  “Yes,” Jada remained composed, “I need to be seen by a physician.”