by Knox, Abby
Logan and I both help her to stand so we can hug.
I’m not big on sisterly affection, but somehow I feel like giving my baby sister a squeeze. I probably haven’t hugged her like this since we were little.
Eventually, we’re laughing…until we’re not.
Ever abruptly lets go of me, her face suddenly pale.
“What is it?” I ask.
She says nothing but looks down.
There’s a little puddle on the floor between her legs.
Logan sees this and stands up.
“You hugged me so tight, my water broke,” she says faintly.
“I’m so sorry!” I say, covering my mouth. “Is that even possible?”
She shakes her head and smiles at me weakly. “Do not apologize. I’ve wanted to evict this baby for weeks now! Consider this my early Christmas present!”
Chapter 20
Paul
I look at my beautiful Drea in her new white sundress she bought for this occasion. Her hair is down around her shoulders, and she looks like an angel.
She smiles at me nervously and takes my hand.
I kiss the back of it. Her warm skin against my lips ignites the protective instinct in me.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
She reaches over with her free hand and straightens my tie. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be ready to go on a date with my gorgeous boyfriend?”
“In public, though,” I say.
“We both want this. We don’t have to be in the shadows anymore, so let’s do what normal couples do. Fuck ’em. As long as you kick open my bedroom door later and tie me down, then I’ll go on a perfectly normal ice cream date at Freezy’s with my guy.”
I grab her face and kiss her. Feels so good to kiss her, I’m ready to ditch this ice cream outing completely and go back to her place—our place—and keep trying to make some babies.
But we’re already here, parked at the frozen custard stand. Might as well let everybody get used to us.
I hop out of the truck and dash around to open her door and help her down.
As we approach the old-fashioned Freezy’s ice cream and custard stand on the hill overlooking the river, surrounded by picnic tables and produce displays at the height of summer, I can’t help but notice the horse hitched to a post. A very familiar-looking horse.
We study the menu, and finally my woman chooses a pistachio waffle cone. I order a mint chip in a plain cake cone.
People have taken notice of us, but out here in the country it's not as obvious who we are as it is downtown, where all the retired farmers sit around with nothing much else to talk about except everyone else’s sins.
I roll out a flannel blanket on the crest of the hill while Drea approaches with our cones.
I take mine and I kiss her, then I hold her cone while she folds herself down into a cross-legged position on the ground.
I join her and we’re soon enjoying our cones and laughing. We nearly forget where we are and about putting on a brave face.
Soon enough, someone approaches. “It’s too bad you had to be the one to marry us,” says a woman’s voice.
Drea’s smile fades as she looks up, but she doesn’t seem to recognize who’s talking. “OK,” she says, her face stoic. “I’m sorry. Are you getting a divorce or something?”
The woman huffs. “No. I just mean I never would have hired someone to marry us if I’d known she was a totally immoral, corrupt politician.”
Without missing a beat, my girl chirps back, “Oh! I see. Well, I can have your marriage annulled and you can have a go with one of the other justices of the peace. Or a minister. Can’t swing a dead cat without hitting a drunk minister that I’ve seen in my courtroom. I can provide you with a list if you like.”
The woman shakes her head. “I suppose it’s fun to joke around knowing you’re just phoning it in until the election. After that you won’t have to worry about being in the public eye anymore.”
I have to chime in now. Drea has done enough of the heavy hitting for the both of us.
“And why would you think that?”
“Because obviously she’s not going to run for office again after all this!”
I look at Drea and smile. She looks at me curiously. “Obviously. And by the way, I can’t annul marriages, that was a joke,” she says, smiling at this horrible fishwife who’s trying to ruin our date.
I give my biggest, most maniacal grin up at the woman, who’s now been joined by her husband.
“The only obvious thing to me is that Drea should run again, if only to piss off all the pearl-clutching holier-than-thou hypocrites in this town who never bothered to do their homework about down-ballot judicial candidates until some kind of character flaw is dragged out in the open, especially if that perceived flaw is about sex. So fuck yeah, she’s running again.”
The man and woman finally walk away, and Drea looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“What?” I ask defensively.
“What do you mean, what? Why would you say to her that I am definitely running again?”
“Because you should,” I tell her. My tone says ‘obviously.’
“It’s a totally psychotic idea,” I say.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
She shakes her head at me. “Well, it tracks. Only psychopaths and children eat ice cream from a cake cone.”
For that, I lean over and give her a minty, creamy kiss that she accepts with a giggle.
“What do we have here?”
We break the kiss and I see Jackson and Maggie standing arm in arm, smiling down at us.
“Hey, man. I thought I saw your horse over there,” I say.
“It’s a Clay tradition, every Friday. Foster siblings watch all the kids and we have a date night.”
Maggie winces and grabs one of her boobs. “Better make it a quick one. Little Davey needs to eat soon, I can feel it.”
Drea looks amused.
I don’t really want to get lost in a conversation about babies and breastfeeding when I don’t have anything to contribute, so I bring up a favor of Jackson.
“Can we use your place for a campaign night party? Win or lose, I want us to get married that night.”
Drea nearly chokes on her ice cream. “What did you say?”
“I said I want to marry you on election night. That way if you lose, at least you’ll have something to be happy about. I mean, if you do want to marry me.”
She licks her ice cream and narrows her eyes at me. “That is the weirdest proposal I’ve ever heard.”
“Sure hope there haven’t been any more than mine, or I have some asses to kick.”
She smiles and plants a deep, wet, ice cream kiss on my lips. “Of course we’re getting married. I’m more sure of that than I am of my continuing desire to be a judge.”
Maggie jumps up and down. “Wedding planning! Yay! Drea, come by tomorrow and we’ll start talking about color palettes and flowers.”
I chime in, “Hydrangeas. For my mom. They were her favorite.”
Epilogue
Six months later
Drea
I lose the election. Of course.
It’s pretty much a landslide in favor of the other guy, the son of a much beloved former county supervisor with backing from a state legislator and donors who have deep pockets.
Paul is taking it way worse than I am.
He keeps scrolling and refreshing the returns on the county clerk’s website, but nothing changes. I lost.
“Babe. It’s OK. It’s just one judgeship.”
“I don’t understand. I thought we got ahead of the story.”
I smile at him. For a badass, he sure is as pure and earnest as they come.
“Sweetheart, it’s hard enough trying to get people to remember to turn their ballots over to finish voting, let alone expect them to do their homework on a down-ballot county judge election. It’s no big deal. Now, come on. Turn off your phone and let’s get married.
”
We walk arm in arm to the rustic wedding barn, me in a lavender print shift dress and matching silk jacket. My bouquet is blue hydrangeas, for Paul’s mom, and yellow daisies, for my mom. I so wish the both of them could be here.
The barn is swathed in shades of blue and lavender, with golden lights everywhere.
The guest list is small. The Clays and all their many, many children. Remy and Troy and their three kids. Misty and Ryan and their daughter. Logan and Ever and their daughter and six-month-old baby boy.
I notice Logan and Paul exchanging the subtlest of nods. They called a truce as soon as the more important things were out of the way—such as the arrival of baby Ray.
Taking up one whole row are Devin and Claire and their three kids, plus Claire’s younger siblings who live with them.
In the front row is Edie, who is sitting by herself. Lane, our town’s mayor, obtained his internet ordination just for this occasion, since no other judge in Middleburg would consent to marry us.
Even though it’s small and humble, it’s the most beautiful wedding I’ve ever seen.
This man is everything to me.
I don’t care that I lost an election. I don’t care about anything except starting our new life together, no matter where fate takes us.
Epilogue
Ten years later
Paul
“Where’s Mom,” nine-year-old Joaquin asks as we walk on the beach along the Gulf of Mexico.
“She’s coming,” I say. “There she is.”
My Drea is hustling down the beach to watch the great migration with us.
“Mommy, you’re late,” Joaquin points out.
She tousles his hair and kisses me. I slip my arm around her waist. “How’d it go?” I ask her.
Drea smiles wide. “They say the paperwork should be on my desk by next week. All I have to do is sign it and I’m a full partner.”
“Babe,” I say, my breath catching in my throat. “I’m so proud of you.”
“How proud, wildlife expert?” she says.
I grin at her and give her a knowing look. “So proud I have a big surprise for you later. So good you won’t be expecting it at all.”
“My favorite kind,” she says, pecking me on the chin.
“OK!” Joaquin shouts. “It’s happening, guys. Dad, aren’t you supposed to be filming this or something?”
The boy is correct. As part of my career with the Florida Wildlife Commission, I’m supposed to be filming the sea turtles, just like I do every year at Lover’s Key near our new home city in Florida.
I fire up the camera and train it on the nests, where a hundred little turtles are scuttling slowly toward the sea.
“How do they know that’s where they are supposed to go if they’ve never been there before?” Joaquin asks.
Drea pulls him into a side hug. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Some animals just know where they belong and where they don’t.”
I shoot her a look and she smirks at me.
“Dad, can we stay here forever?”
“That’s the plan,” I say.
“I was born here and I’m never leaving,” Joaquin says.
“I like the sound of that,” I say.
Drea strokes Joaquin’s baby soft blond hair away from his eyes while the three of us marvel at the little creatures, rooting for the slowest ones to make it to the water without getting attacked by seagulls.
Suddenly, I’m interrupted by the sound of more people arriving at the beach. I guess the surprise I planned for Drea is happening sooner than I expected.
Drea and Joaquin whip around and we see them all coming down the beach about as subtly as, well, a group of pale Midwesterners descending on a quiet, remote beach in Florida.
They’re all here—Jackson and Maggie, Troy and Remy, Misty and Ryan, Edie and Lane, Devin and Claire, and, of course, Ever and Logan—along with more kids than I can count.
Joaquin does a good job of keeping the happy reunion noise to a dull roar for the sake of the turtle babies. I give them a bit of leeway, as Drea hasn’t seen her family in over a year, and this is the first time since we moved away that everyone from Middleburg has been together again.
Pretty soon, everyone has calmed down and is watching the baby sea turtle migration in relatively quiet awe.
“Dad, can you tell me about where you grew up in Iowa again?”
“Sure,” I say. “I was born on a hog farm near a little town where not much ever happens, but somehow some of the best people seem to find each other…”
About the Author
Abby Knox lives a dual life. Fantasy Abby would love to live on a farm with goats, bees, chickens, donkeys and alpaca, making her own soap, yarn, honey and cheese. Reality Abby has no desire to do actual farm work. So, the ever-pragmatic Reality Abby keeps Fantasy Abby happy by putting her into adorable little works of romantic fiction with her pretend hobbies. Both Abbies hope you enjoy her sweet, sexy — sometimes a little over the top and weird — storytelling.
Keep up with the latest news with Abby’s newsletter!
Say hello at
[email protected]
Also by Abby Knox
From the Small-Town Bachelor Romance Series
(each can be read as a stand-alone, but if you want to read in order … this is the order)
Take Me Home
Game Face
Written in the Stars, a special Christmas edition
Walk With Me
Stay the Night
I’ve Got You
Cone and Get it (The SEVENTH and FINAL STBR installment is coming in summer 2019!!!)
The Windy City Holiday Duet
Pumpkin and Spice
Comfort and Joy
Beach Avenue Babes
His Vinyl Vixen (a stand alone for the rock ’n’ roll nerd in all of us)
Her Hi-Fi Hunk (the companion book to His Vinyl Vixen, coming summer 2019!! Dusty finally gets her story!)
Stand alones
Fencing Her In (releasing summer 2019!)
One Good Woman (a stand-alone political drama/romance!)
Naughty Irish Heart (a stand-alone Saint Patrick’s Day Romance, part of a four-author themed collection!)
Sweet Jane
(An amnesia story about being lost, and then found.)
The Christmas Pickup (a stand-alone holiday short read!)
Saved for Me
(a special Holidays with Alexa Riley story)
Matched for Me
(the last of the For Me series: don’t forget to check out the first two, by the unbeatable Alexa Riley: Hungry for More and Naughty or Nice!)
Off-Season Stud (a quick, OTT vacation stand-alone)
The Sisters of Enchantment series
Some Basic Witch
Witch, Please!
An excerpt from Abby’s next title …
SWIM COACH
Addie
Ever since meeting him on the first day of practice, I have tossed and turned every night in my bed thinking about Coach Weston.
It’s not fair.
A coach is supposed to be an old, boring adult who wears dad jeans, drives a minivan and talks about the days before everyone had cell phones and social media.
Coaches are not supposed to be unbelievably hot, recent college graduates.
You know what’s also not fair? The fact that I’m 18 and the oldest person on the whole team, but I’m the one he pays the least amount of attention to.
All he cares about is whipping the team into shape, and making the team captain, Hunter, demonstrate proper form. Like she’s a freaking goddess of the pool or something. Well, compared to me, she is.
I’ll show them. By the end of this season, I’ll have transformed myself from the team’s weakest link to the fastest swimmer in school history. In fact, I might as well break all of Weston’s own high school records.
Maybe then, he’ll speak to me like the adult I am. Maybe then, he’ll realize I’m not a child.
The truth is, anybody would have the drive to achieve their goals with Coach Weston in authority over them. He’s so commanding, it’s almost scary sometimes. When he furrows his brow looking over our disappointing times, it just makes me want to work harder. When he barks orders at us, my heart hammers, eager to get into the water and show him what I’m capable of.
And, oh god, when he blows his whistle, there’s a down-deep excitement knowing his eyes are going to be on me while I do whatever he asks.
My craving to please him, to draw those deep brown eyes and severe expression my way, is all I can think about.
Unable to sleep, yet again, I give up. I roll over and pick up my phone and begin scrolling through Facebook.
Coach Weston and I are not Facebook friends, but there’s no reason I can’t creep on his page. I’m sure all the girls do it. Hunter even dared to send him a friend request. I wonder if he actually responded to that.
One way to find out … except his privacy settings are such that I can’t see who he’s friends with. He doesn’t even list a relationship status of any kind. Frustrating.
I scroll down, but there’s very little I can see. Figures that a guy like that would also be social media savvy. I click on his cover photo, which looks like a group shot of him and a bunch of friends, not family. They all look about his age, and from the surroundings, it appears they are at a concert together. Three guys and three females. One of the women, a redhead about his age, has her arm around his waist. This image shouldn’t be so upsetting to me.
But it’s not just upsetting. I’m obsessed with it. I have to find out who she is. Is she a girlfriend? Sister? They don’t look alike.