by Devney Perry
It wasn’t fancy, but it was everything I had ever wanted for my life.
A happy life.
A life filled with more love than some people found in a lifetime.
A life with a man that would forever make me smile.
Seven years later . . .
“Fuck, baby, get there. Fast,” Hunter growled, then bit the side of my neck.
The zing of pain went straight from my neck to my clit. When Hunter sucked the same spot he’d just bitten, my already-tingling legs began to tremble.
My back was pressed against the cool marble in our shower, my legs were around Hunter’s hips, and my husband was pounding his cock into me with no restraint as the water poured down his back. With the sound of our skin slapping and water rushing, his mouth trailed openmouthed kisses up my jaw to my waiting lips.
My hands started clawing at his back, urging him to go harder and faster. With a rumble from deep in his chest, he obeyed, fucking me as hard as he could without dropping me on my ass.
“I’m so close,” I said against his lips. “I need—”
I didn’t have to articulate. After years of sneaking in shower sex while our kids were napping, he knew exactly what I needed. After one slow lick across my bottom lip, he sucked it into his mouth and my orgasm hit. He kept it between his teeth as I cried, my back arching away from the tile as my inner walls clenched around his thrusting cock.
“Squeeze me. Just like that.” His words were barely audible over my strangled sounds echoing off the shower walls. “Just. Like. That.” With each word, he thrust harder, finding his own release. His groan drowned out mine as he let go of my lip and tipped his head back.
I leaned forward and licked the water off his corded neck, making his fingers dig even harder into my thighs as he let go of his release.
When we were both wrung out, he let go of my legs and set my feet back on the tiled floor. I kept a grip on his shoulders until the white spots in my vision cleared and I regained my balance.
“Whoa,” I said, breathless. My arms and legs felt like rubber and now I could use a nap myself.
Hunter chuckled. “You’d better hurry or we’re going to be late.”
I swatted his arm. “If we’re late, it’s your fault. You interrupted my shower, Dr. Faraday.”
“Are you really complaining, Blondie? Because I’m pretty sure your pussy is glad the doctor showed up.”
I pulled my lips in to hide a smile, then I smacked his ass and stepped past him to get my shampoo.
He laughed again and took the bottle out of my hand, just as I’d expected. One thing Hunter always did during our dirty showers was wash my hair. And then I’d wash his.
It was a simple gesture, washing each other’s hair, but it meant everything to me.
It was the care Hunter took with me. It was the way his fingertips would dig in a little, rubbing any tension away. The way he’d bend down and kiss my shoulder when I was all lathered up. The way he’d tip me back under the water, supporting my weight with one strong arm as the other kept the water from running into my eyes.
And for all the care he gave me, I gave it right back.
I’d worship his hair, combing it out gently with my fingers before rinsing it clean. All these years and I was still as obsessed with Hunter’s hair as I’d been the first day he walked into the inn’s lobby.
We washed and finished our ritual before Hunter left the shower to get ready for the party. I rushed to shave my legs, miraculously not leaving any nicks, then dashed out to spend a little extra time—not as much as I had planned—in front of the bathroom mirror on my hair and makeup.
I tugged on jeans, a nice black sweater and a scarf to cover up Hunter’s love bite. With my knee-high boots pulled over my dark-wash skinnies, I did one last inspection in the full-length mirror in our walk-in closet before leaving the bedroom in search of my family.
I found Coby in his room with Grayson, right where I’d left them for their mandatory hour of “quiet time,” since both were too old to nap these days.
Grayson was on Coby’s bunk, watching something on his tablet. Coby had his nose in a book. While reading still wasn’t my favorite pastime, it had become Coby’s latest obsession. He and Hunter had bonded over the first Harry Potter and now my son was rarely seen without a book or two under his arm.
“Okay, boys. You need to get dressed to go.”
“We are dressed, Mom,” Coby said, not tearing his eyes away from his book.
“Bud, it’s too cold for shorts. Would you please put on some jeans or something?”
He frowned and set down his book, then climbed down the stairs from the top bunk. Even at eleven years old, Coby still loved his bunk. It was a little more cramped on top than it used to be, but when Hunter had offered to take it down, Coby had adamantly refused.
It was his special space.
And Pickle’s, who was currently napping in the corner next to Grayson.
“Gray, you too. Climb on down from there.”
My youngest son nodded, rubbed Pickle’s ear and set down his iPad.
I ruffled his light brown hair when he hopped off the last step. It was too long, but when I’d tried to have it cut, he’d refused. Grayson was in a phase where he did everything his dad did. And since Dad had long hair, he had long hair. If he could have grown a beard, he would have.
“Do I have to change, Mom?” Grayson asked. He looked so much like Hunter except for his eyes—he’d gotten them from me.
“No, you’re good.” He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved thermal, just like Hunter had been earlier. The minute we’d gotten home from our family sledding expedition today, he’d changed to match his dad. I had no idea why Coby had traded his warm clothes for shorts, considering it was barely above freezing outside. “Go grab your shoes, bubba.”
“Okay.” Grayson ran out of Coby’s room toward his own down the hall.
“Mom, do you think Dad would take me shopping for a new book tomorrow?”
“I’m sure he would if you asked. Now get dressed.” I stepped out so Coby could have some privacy to change and then continued on toward Layla’s room. My three-year-old daughter was resting on Hunter’s chest, rubbing her eyes and yawning, still groggy from her nap.
I crossed the room to the white rocking chair and pressed a kiss to her white-blond hair. “Did you have a good nap?”
She nodded and curled further into Hunter.
While five-year-old Grayson took after Hunter, Layla took after me. We had the same eyes and hair. The same shape to our face. The only difference was the shape of her nose, which was more like my mom’s than mine. When the three of us were out together, there was no mistaking her gene pool.
“Does she need to change?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah.” Layla was still wearing the leggings and Mustangs football sweatshirt from our sledding trip.
I walked over to her closet and inspected my options. While I had kept the boys’ rooms tasteful and not age-specific, I had lost my mind decorating Layla’s room. The walls were pale pink, even the inside of the closet. The white trim was perfectly matched to her four-poster bed and scalloped dresser. The pink floral rug in the center of the room was centered directly under a crystal chandelier.
She’d hate this room when she got a bit older, but for now, it was just right for my princess.
Pulling out a cream cable-knit sweater and some jeans embroidered with matching flowers, I set them on the bed. “Here you go. She can wear her UGG boots.”
Hunter smiled as he kept rocking his baby girl and I slipped out of the room to get our party contributions from the kitchen. Gathering up a plate of cookies and the Tupperware bowl of Hunter’s pea salad, I had everything ready by the time the boys came storming down the stairs, followed by Hunter carrying Layla.
“All set?” Hunter asked.
I smiled. “All set.”
Then the Faraday family set off for the party I’d been looking forward to for over a month.
“Jess is totally going out of his mind,” I told Gigi as I came out to the farmhouse porch and handed her a refilled glass of wine.
“Why do you think I had to come out here?” Gigi asked. “I’m afraid if I don’t intercept poor Mason Drummond, Jess will scare him off before he can even knock on the door.”
Jess was pacing the living room, watching the windows and waiting for Rowen’s first date to arrive. His face was a mix of gut-wrenching anguish and cold-blooded murder.
It was kind of adorable.
I laughed and sat next to Gigi on their front porch swing, shivering as I scooted close to take a corner of the blanket she was offering to cover my lap. “This is fun. I’m glad you planned this party.”
“Me too.”
Gigi had planned this party for Jess, not Rowen. All of our friends were here in an effort to distract Jess from the fact his little girl was going to her first dance.
“Can you believe my baby girl is sixteen and going on a date?” she asked.
I smiled and took a sip of my own wine. “They aren’t babies anymore. When did that happen?”
“When we blinked.”
A lot had happened when we’d blinked.
Marriage. Babies. Life.
Hunter and I had had our winter wedding not long after he’d proposed. I’d enlisted all of my family and friends to help plan it and we’d pulled off my dream wedding within a month. With Hunter’s support, I’d been able to put Coby’s kidnapping in the past, and we’d gotten married in the barn at Howell Farm. I’d had my white, long-sleeved, lace dress. Hunter had looked as gorgeous as ever in his tux. And Coby had been the most handsome best man in the history of the world. It had been a night filled with friends, love and laughter.
Like most of the days since.
One month after our wedding—the day Hunter’s adoption of Coby had been approved— Coby and I had both changed our last name to Faraday.
Two months later, I’d been pregnant with Grayson.
Two years after he was born, we’d had Layla.
Then I’d blinked and they were both out of diapers. Grayson was in Emmeline Slater’s kindergarten class, and before too long, Layla would be too. She wouldn’t be my little princess, spending the mornings at Quail Hollow and then afternoons with me at the motel. She’d have her own life, her own friends and her own winter formal dances.
“I can sit out here and watch for Mason,” I told Gigi. “Don’t you want to go in and help Roe get ready?”
Gigi shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I got emotional earlier when I helped her into her dress. I don’t want to wreck her night by turning into a basket case because she’s growing up. Jess is losing it and one of us has to stay calm. A little time out here in the cold air will be good for me to settle down.”
“You can cry when she leaves and then get drunk. I brought more wine.”
“And that,” she clinked our glasses together, “is why we’re best friends.”
“Roe looks so pretty.” I had snuck a peek into the bathroom where Felicity had been doing Rowen’s makeup. Roe had chosen a deep-blue strapless gown, the color perfectly matching her eyes, and Gigi had curled her long hair into beautiful waves that hung down to her waist. Since Felicity was the master makeup artist in the group, she and Roe had quarantined themselves in Jess and Gigi’s upstairs bathroom so that all of the other kids wouldn’t bother them. The only other person allowed in the bathroom was Adeline, who adored her big sister just about as much as she adored her aunt Felicity.
Everyone else had been banished to the main floor.
“This farmhouse barely holds us all these days,” I told Gigi. All of our friends had come over tonight except for Michael and Alana, who were on vacation for their anniversary, and Milo and Sara, who were at home with their two-week-old newborn.
We both looked over our shoulders to peek inside. Kids were playing everywhere. Dads were drinking beer and laughing. Moms were sipping wine and smiling.
“Yeah, but I like it full,” she said. “Besides, if we run out of space, I’ll just have Jess build another addition onto the garage.”
“Good plan. Maybe a construction project will keep his mind too occupied to plot Mason Drummond’s murder.”
We both laughed and kept spying on everyone inside.
“Grayson looks more and more like Hunter every day,” Gigi said.
My son was sitting next to his daddy at the dining room table, playing cards with Silas and Silas’s son, Liam. “He sure does, but all the boys look like their dads.”
It was the one thing I always got a kick out of in our group. All of the boys were spitting images of their big, strapping fathers, and for the most part, the girls took after their mothers.
Gigi giggled. “Strong genes.”
“That’s the truth.”
We turned and relaxed into the swing, watching the dark sky as we waited for Rowen’s date to arrive.
“How is Nell working out?” Gigi asked.
I sighed. “So far so good. I check on her every day but she seems to be doing fine. She’s actually really good at cleaning.”
“I still cannot believe the woman who kidnapped your son is now working for you at the motel.”
“You and me both.”
Eleanor Carlson had spent six years, not three, at the mental institution, repairing what had been broken in her mind. And when she’d emerged, she’d come out a different person. She had been humbled. She had been given the chance to grieve. She had been given a second chance.
In Prescott.
Because she hadn’t had anywhere else to go, Hunter had invited her here. Nell was living in my old loft, cleaning for me at the inn so I didn’t have to work as much. Her relationship with Hunter was stronger than it had ever been, and most importantly for her, she was building a connection with Coby.
She was becoming Grandma Nell.
Some days were better than others, but she was trying hard to forgive herself for the way she had treated her son and mine.
And thanks to help from the therapist I’d seen for three years after Coby’s kidnapping, I’d been able to put it all in the past. Everything. I had moved past the kidnapping. I’d moved past the flashbacks. And I hadn’t pinched my leg in years.
Everett was nothing more than a distant, unpleasant memory.
Headlights bouncing down the gravel lane to the farmhouse interrupted our conversation.
I took a deep breath as Gigi chugged the rest of her wine. “Here goes.” I stood at the same time as Gigi, whipping off the blanket and leaving it on the swing.
Just in time, Gigi intercepted Jess as he came barreling out the farmhouse door. “Sheriff,” Gigi warned, “take a breath.”
His broad chest puffed up and he opened his mouth, but she stopped him with one finger pressed to his lips.
“This is her special night, Jess.”
All of the air puffed out of his lungs, and in a pained voice, he whispered, “Fuck, this is hard, Freckles.” Then he pulled his wife into his arms and held on tight.
I slipped past them and went inside to find my kids. Coby was watching a video with Ben on someone’s phone. Layla was following the other girls around with a beaming smile. And Grayson was still with Hunter at the table.
“Is Mason here?” Hunter asked.
I nodded. “Yep. I’m going to go up and tell Roe.”
As I started up the stairs, the rest of the party congregated in the living room and the men all went for their “props.”
Silas had brought a rope.
Nick, a pipe wrench.
Beau, an ax.
Hunter, a bone saw.
And of course, Jess came back inside with his gun firmly secured to his hip.
Poor Mason.
It was a good thing he was such an awesome teenager with a sturdy backbone. Picking up Roe with five big, overprotective men in the room would not be easy.
I hit the master bedroom in the farmhouse at the same time Rowen c
ame gliding out of the bathroom.
“Well?” She twirled around, the smile on her face bright and beautiful.
How was this gorgeous young woman the same little girl I’d babysat during Jess and Gigi’s first date? “You’re stunning,” I said, choking back tears. “He’s here.”
“Goodie!” She smiled brighter, clapping as she rushed over for a hug and then disappeared down the steps.
Behind her, Felicity came out of the bathroom, wiping her eyes dry, with Adeline racing past to follow her sister.
“Ready for this?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m so glad Victoria has a few more years. I don’t think I could take it yet.”
I nodded. “You and me both.” Layla would be lucky to convince Hunter to even let her go on a date at sixteen. He was quieter in his protectiveness than Jess, but no less fierce.
I looped arms with Felicity and we walked downstairs, where our friends were fawning over Rowen and the men were looming over Mason.
And bless Mason’s heart, he didn’t even notice the men. His eyes were fixed on Rowen in a way that made Jess’s already-distraught face fall even farther.
Jess saw it. We all did.
At sixteen years old, Mason Drummond was in love with Rowen Cleary. No matter how many angry men stood close by with their weapons of choice, it wasn’t going to scare him away from his girl.
“Oh, lordy, Jess is in trouble,” Felicity whispered.
“I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of Mason around.”
She hummed her agreement when we hit the bottom step. Rowen gave one last hug to her mother and a kiss on her daddy’s cheek before she breezed out the door with Mason in tow.
“Let’s eat!” Gigi announced, sniffling as she led the way to the kitchen.
“I think I’d better open another bottle of wine,” Sabrina mumbled, following Gigi. “Or three.”
The party resumed as we spent the evening eating, drinking, laughing and counting down the hours until Rowen came back home.
At nearly ten, the party was still going strong except for Layla, who had fallen asleep on the couch in Hunter’s lap.