by Jacob Chance
Epilogue
Rex
Eight years later
“Are you ready to get started R.J.?”
“Yes, Daddy. What are we doing first?” He bounces up and down on the balls of his work boots that are miniature versions of mine. At six years of age he’s taller than average and stronger too. He’s got the Winters’ genes, for sure, and thankfully, he’s got his mother’s temperament.
“The first thing we need to do is measure the wood for our cuts. And you know what they say about measuring?” He shakes his head and his golden brown curls tousle around. “You always measure twice and cut once. Do you understand why that is?”
“Yep. If you measure twice you can make sure it’s right.”
“Exactly. Do you know who taught me that?”
“Grampa?”
“Yep, he sure did. When I was a couple years younger than you we did this same project. Except ours is going to come out even better.” I wink at him and he beams a smile at me, showing off his missing front tooth.
I lay the eight foot long piece of wood out on my long work area in our garage and mark off the measurements for each section of the birdhouse with a tape measure and speed square. There are seven pieces we’ll need for the birdhouse in all.
Slipping on a pair of protective glasses, I hand a pair to R.J. “You always want to make sure your eyes are protected before you make any cuts. Wood chips and sawdust can fly all over the place. And since this saw is loud, we’re going to cover our ears too.” I set a pair of safety earmuffs on his head before doing the same on mine. “Now watch carefully.” I make the first few cuts with my miter saw and then hand the pieces of to R.J. “Put these over on the table, please.” He skips over and places them down before skipping excitedly back. “How would you like to help me make some cuts?”
His green eyes, so like his mom’s, open impossibly wide. “Can I?”
“You sure can. Come here.” I set up a step stool in front of me and he climbs up on it. Adjusting the board to the next line we’re cutting on, I place his hand on the saw handle. “We’re going to bring this down and make sure it’s lined up properly with our pencil mark, and then we’re going to raise it up again.” He follows my instructions perfectly. “Great job, son. Okay, now put your hand here and mine will go on top, so I can press the trigger and you’re going to help me make the cut.” Holding the board with one hand, I engage the trigger and allow the motor to speed up.
“Ready?” I glance at R.J. and he nods. “Carefully lower the handle and bring the blade to the wood. We’re not going to apply too much pressure. We want the saw to do all the work for us.”
R.J. does exactly as I say with my careful guidance and we successfully make the cut. I release the trigger and allow the blade to stop rotating before I raise the handle.
“Congratulations, R.J. You made your first cut.” I hold up my hand for a high five and he slaps his palm against mine.
“Can we do it again?”
“Of course. We need to cut the rest of the pieces before we can put our birdhouse together.”
We spend the next twenty minutes making the rest of the cuts while I lecture R.J. on the importance of taking our time and being extra careful because saws are dangerous and accidents can happen. I make him promise to never use any of my tools without my permission.
“Now, the birdhouse needs an entrance.” I measure out the place for our one and a half inch hole to be drilled. Placing a scrap piece of wood under the board, I clamp both pieces to my work surface. “The extra piece of wood will prevent the wood from splintering when the drill bit breaks through the other side. We want their house to look the best it can and be functional, right?” R.J. nods emphatically, soaking up every word I say. My kid’s a natural.
I drill the hole for their entrance and unclamp the wood. “The next thing we need to do is glue the pieces together.” I show him how to run a bead of glue down the side before pressing the pieces together. I drill two pilot holes at each joint and drive in the finish nails.
“Dad, it’s starting to look like an actual birdhouse.” R.J.’s voice is filled with awe.
“Wait until we get the bottom on.” I attach it using glue and finish nails, and then we move on to the roof.
“Why do we need glue if we’re using nails?”
“The glue holds the joints together and the nails hold it all in place until the glue dries. I like to think of it as helping it to last longer. Now, the last thing we need to do is add the dowl for the bird to perch on. Do you want to drill the hole with me?”
“Yes. Yes.” He claps his hands.
“We’re going to move down about an inch below the entrance and make a small hole.” I close my hand around his on the drill and guide him through the process. “Add a drop of glue on the end of the dowel and insert it into the hole.” R.J. very capably does what I say. “And now we have a birdhouse. What do you think?”
“Can we make more?” I grin. I knew he’d get bit by the construction bug just like I did.
“We can make more if you want, but not today. It’s time to run and get ready for dinner. But what do you say we show your mom first?”
“Can we?”
“Sure. You go get her, but don’t tell her what we did. We’ll surprise her.”
While R.J. runs to get Danika, I clean up our work area and return everything to its proper place. I hide the birdhouse under an empty box.
“What’s this I hear about a surprise my guys have been working on?” Danika calls out as she enters the garage.
“We made something special, and R.J. did most of the work.”
“Daddy helped.”
I ruffle his hair. “Thanks, sport. We make a great team. Now go move the box and show Mom what we made.”
R.J. hurries over and glances at Danika. “Mom, are you ready?”
She smiles. “I am.”
“Ta da.” He removes the box, dropping it on the floor behind him. “What do you think, Mom?”
“It’s so beautiful.” Danika’s eyes actually look like they’re tearing up. “When did my baby get so big?” Yep, she’s definitely tearing up. She’s been having a tough time lately as Rex Jr. makes the transition from toddler to a bigger boy. When he stopped calling her Mommy I thought she was going to have a breakdown. But the more she begged him to continue, the less he did. And now she’s resigned to the same facts that every parent realizes. We can’t hold them back or keep them from growing up. All we can do is embrace every stage they go through and make the most of them.
“You guys must be starving after all this work,” Danika mentions.
“I know I am. How about you, R.J.?”
“I’m famished. I’m going to wash my hands and get ready.” He runs off to the house and we laugh. “Where does this kid come up with this stuff?” I ask.
“He is Rex Jr. after all. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
“I had so much fun building with him.”
“How come you never built anything with Ruby?”
“She never wanted to. She was too busy drawing and painting.”
“And now look at her, getting her masters from the Royal College of Art in the U.K.”
My forehead wrinkles as I think about the months since we’ve seen her. “I can’t stand that she’s so far away.” I take Danika in my arms and brush my lips over hers.
“I know, but she’s doing what she loves. And she’ll be graduating soon. Then, before we know it, she’ll be home.” She runs her palms over my chest, caressing the muscles.
“Then we’ll have all our kids under one roof again.” I smile.
“We will. Just where they belong.”
Want more from the Winters brothers?
Add MANFAX to your TBR
Need another romantic comedy to read while you wait for Jacob Chance’s next release?
Check out CHECKED (Boston Terriers Hockey #1).
Read on for the first chapter of this hilarious surprise pr
egnancy romance.
Available on AMAZON and FREE with Kindle Unlimited
They call him ‘Wilde Man’. Rumor has it he’s an animal on the ice and between the sheets.
Like the rest of the female population, I’ve been crushing on Clancy Wilde, the captain of Boston University’s hockey team, since the first time I saw him. Big, blond, and charming, he ticks all the boxes.
When we find ourselves at a wedding, drunk and flirting, I know I can finally check this tattooed, bad boy, hockey player off my wish list.
One night is all it was meant to be, until I see two pink lines on the pregnancy test.
How did the notch on my belt turn into a ball and chain?
Read on for the first chapter of CHECKED
Available on AMAZON and FREE with Kindle Unlimited
Chapter One
Tenley
August
Leaning back against the bar, I sip my wine and glance around the poolside wedding reception. My friend just married the man of her dreams and I can’t even land a date with a decent guy. Smiling faces surround me while couples dance closely and contentedly in each other’s arms. Romance fills the air and I’m standing here drowning my sorrows, contemplating my love life. Or should I say lack thereof?
I haven’t gone on a date in three months. That’s quite a dry spell for a twenty-one-year-old woman. The guy who took me out must have had a change of heart. He was completely into me for weeks, and in the span of two hours his behavior did a sudden one-eighty. He went from flirting madly to thrusting me in the friend zone so fast I got whiplash. To this day, I still wonder what happened.
Was it something I said? Or something I did?
Fuck me. My thoughts are beginning to sound like a cheesy eighties rock ballad.
Turning around, I set my wine glass down and lean my forearms on the bar while I stare out at the beautiful northern Virginia sunset. Painting the sky with vivid slashes of orange, pink, and gold, it’s breathtaking, making it difficult to feel down when there’s so much beauty surrounding me. And the gentle whisper of the evening breeze wafting over my bare shoulders feels like a reassuring caress.
Relax. Loosen up. That’s what I imagine it’s saying to me.
I don’t want to be a killjoy on this happy occasion. It’s not that I’m jealous when people find their happily ever after, like my friend Jane did. She and her new husband are perfect for each other. The two of them belong together and I want her to have nothing but the best. I just wish I had some viable dating options on the horizon, so I could feel better about my own romantic future. I’d even be satisfied if something would happen to give me hope that I won’t be alone forever.
Send me a sign, universe. I’m ready.
A tan, masculine forearm lands on the bar next to mine.
Damn that was quick. Is this my sign?
My eyes wander along the muscular, veined length, stopping when they reach the neatly rolled up shirtsleeves. Turning my head, my gaze continues the trek up his crisp, white, fitted shirt. Snug around his flexed bicep, I wonder if he has any tattoos under that material?
A broad shoulder caps it off so nicely, I’m afraid to look any higher. Whoever this is standing next to me, there’s no way his face can possibly measure up to the rest of him. Why ruin perfection?
Curiosity wins out, though.
Oh well, here goes nothing.
His thick neck is tanned a golden brown and his sculpted lips are twisted into a derisive smirk telling me he’s aware of my thorough perusal. The higher my eyes climb, the faster my heart gallops.
Oh shit.
I know those lips.
I recognize that sexy smirk.
Please be wrong.
Sweeping my gaze up, I connect with roguish hazel orbs. Fuck me. Of all times for me to be right.
Clancy Wilde, my best friend’s cousin, is next to me in the flesh… in his very sexy, two percent body fat flesh.
I let out a gasp before I can hold the sound in.
He chuckles deeply, making my stomach toss turbulently, like rough water on the high seas.
“Something wrong, Tenley?” he questions knowingly. Fuck me. Unfortunately, he’s aware I’ve always harbored a huge crush on him.
Licking my dry lips, I pray my voice still works. “Not a thing.” I aim a tight, close-lipped smile his way and pluck my wine glass from the bar. Tipping it back, I drink down the remainder in one long gulp. One hand raises signaling for the bartender before the other can place the empty glass down.
He sniggers, as if he knows the reason for my discomfort, and my need for more wine. But is it really a secret? He makes me feel off balance and flushed, unlike my usual confident self.
What girl wouldn’t be uncomfortable in this situation?
It feels so grade school that he knows I think he’s ridiculously hot. But I’m pretty sure every girl in the free world feels that way about him.
“Wine?” he arches a dark blond brow and tips his head toward my glass.
“What about it?”
“I just never imagined you as a wine drinker.”
Turning to face him, I lean my arm on the bar and prop my chin on my palm. “What have you imagined me drinking then?” I can’t wait to hear this one.
“Something with a little more kick, a little more fire. It needs to have a hint of sour and plenty of sweet. Something that mimics your personality.”
He thinks I’m fiery and sweet?
“I’m your cousin’s best friend. You live in Boston and I’m in Washington D.C. We’ve probably seen each other a total of ten times over the years. How strange is it that you think of me at all?”
“Ten times? You’ve been counting, Tenley?”
Fucker.
“You wish,” I sass back. I take another sip of my wine, cooling down the heat that being in his company always brings.
Clancy Wilde is my most-embarrassing secret. A frequent topic in my high school journal, I recorded all the cringe worthy facts about him with my favorite purple pen in looping handwriting and i’s dotted with hearts.
Thank God he’s never read the entries or knows of their existence. I’ve no doubt he’d love to see his name at the top of my ‘wish list’ of guys I’d like to be with. It’s a short list, but he’s still in the top spot.
“Say I’m going to go along with your theory about my drink, what would you suggest?” Gripping the stem, I hold out my empty glass.
His fingers close around the rim, sliding it across the bar while his eyes study me carefully. Raking his teeth over his bottom lip, the action calls my attention to their full shape. He probably did that on purpose.
Returning my focus upward, I catch his amused expression. Yep. He did. The bastard.
“Devil’s Advocate.”
“Is that the name of the drink, or are you playing one?”
He smiles. “That’s the name of the drink. Although, that’s also one of my favorite parts to play.”
Okay, I’ll go along with your game. “What’s in it?”
“Fireball whiskey, spiced rum, apple schnapps, and lemon-lime soda.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That sounds horrible.”
“I figured you wouldn’t try it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs. “It’s just that this drink is probably too much for you to handle.”
I rise to my full height and narrow my eyes at him. “I can handle more than you could imagine, buddy.”
He grins and looks at me appraisingly. “Can you now? I’d like to see exactly how much you can handle.”
Wait a minute.
Is he still talking about this drink? Or is he flirting with me?
My stomach tumbles madly at the thought of him being interested in me.
Turning, I raise my hand signaling the bartender once more. He ambles over, but before I can order, Clancy beats me to it.
“Can I get a Devil’s Advocate for her and a Jameson neat for me?”
“Sure thing,” he replies, before moving toward the clean glasses.
“Have you ever tried this drink?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I have, actually. One of my cousins went to bartending school and I helped him out by trying all the drinks he made.”
“I’m sure that was a real hardship for you.” I roll my eyes. What young guy wouldn’t jump at the opportunity for free booze?
“You can’t imagine.” He shakes his head. “But that’s the kind of guy I am. I’ll jump right in there and take the bull by the horns when no one else wants to.” His tone is teasing, but he probably thinks he’s all that.
And he is.
Tall and thick-chested with shoulder length blond hair, he can get any girl he wants and probably has had most of them.
He’s captain of the hockey team at Boston University and, from what I’ve heard, an animal on the ice. And if I had to guess, I’d say between the sheets too.
They don’t call him ‘Wilde Man’ for nothing.
I’ve heard too much about his love ‘em and leave ‘em ways from Sophie. I know she wanted me informed so I would keep my distance.
What she doesn’t understand is being aware of his hook ups doesn’t turn me off like you’d think it would. It makes me assume he must be really good between the sheets from all that practice.
Clancy is the worst kind of player there is because he’s also a nice guy. And it would be all too easy to fall for him without meaning to.
He leaves a trail of broken hearts behind him wherever he goes. Even I’m susceptible to his handsome face and charming personality.
And let’s not forget that hard body.