by J. C. Emery
“Yeah, I get it. Doesn’t mean I want to name my dog after the guy,” I gripe and crawl up the bed to join her beneath the covers. I stare into her green eyes, taking a moment to really see her and just be fucking grateful that she’s here and with me willingly. Because I would have totally kidnapped her if she had objected to coming home with me. I told her once that she was my always, and I fucking meant it.
She smiles softly, leans in, and grabs ahold of the goatee I’ve been working on, and tugs. She smirks as she says, “We could name him Ryan.”
Back when I was a prospect, the idea of naming a dog after Ryan would have scared me. But now? Fuck it. I’m sure it’ll be funny when he finds out. Plus, it wasn’t my idea anyway.
“Ryan, come see Daddy,” I say. Yeah, I’m one of those fucking people who treats their dog like their kid. Grady thought it was funny until he realized who little Ryan’s mama is if I’m his daddy. The dog stares at me and then Cheyenne and then back to me before prancing up the bed to my lap. I give him a quick rub under his chin and then behind his ears before dropping my hand and letting Chey bond with him.
“Go to Mama,” I tell him. Ian’s dog training guy told me to familiarize him with her scent early on, so I did. We’ve spent the past week learning how to find Mama by her scent. Just yesterday he managed to complete the entire session without any issues. Next week we’ll have to up the ante.
“Go to Mama,” I repeat. This time he seems to understand, and he takes the few steps to sit at her side, tail wagging against the comforter, and waits for praise. I watch as she tentatively shows him her hand and goes about waiting for his acceptance. Once granted, she rubs him behind his ears, under his chin, and along his spine.
“I can’t believe you did all of this for me.” Her green eyes shine in the fading daylight, illuminating her pale skin and dark brown hair. She’s gorgeous, even more so than when I first fell in love with her.
“Believe it, babe. I told you we would have our always, and this is it,” I whisper and lean over to kiss her.
“I’m never leaving this bed,” she whispers back and presses her lips to mine. We’re lost in slow, sated kisses for so long I almost forget what we’re doing until she says, “Hey, don’t you owe me a ring?”
Yeah, I do.
I really fucking do.
THE END
Thank you for reading. Please remember to leave an honest review! xx JC
Acknowledgements
I tend to be chatty in these things, but this one is going to be short because it’s nearly six a.m. and I haven’t the energy to properly gush.
Thank you first and foremost to my readers who have taken a chance on me and my little stories. Thank you for allowing me to live my dream. To each and every one of you who held in there while dates kept changing and no answers were being provided—thank you. It’s been a rough year, but I know I’m at the tail end of it. Your determination to drag this book out of me pushed me to give you absolutely the best book possible. I hope it’s lived up to expectations. And yes, Ian is coming. Chill. #hiding
Thank you to my family who provide me never-ending support and encouragement: Mom, Britt, Mandie, Amy, Grandma (even though you purposely read the dirty parts out loud and then have the nerve to look embarrassed), Debbie, and Candace. And the rest of my extended family who have gone out of their way to show their excitement and support over me getting to live my dream.
Thank you to my author friends who commiserate with me over this beautifully chaotic career we’ve chosen. I’m a better businesswoman and writer because of you all. Thank you to the girls who read this story first and encouraged me to keep going even when I was certain that Jeremy was going to die in a car explosion in chapter seven because he wouldn’t cooperate: Chelsea Camaron, Tracie Redmond, Lisa R., Judy Ruiz, Amber Vaughn, Michelle Chu, Danielle Plane, Julie Deaton, and Nicki DeStasi.
To my awesome team of ladies who stick by me no matter what I throw at them through this publishing journey: Dawn Johnson, A.M. Jones, Danielle Sanchez, and Cindy Emery. I’m turning into a pathetic little codependent baby because you four have shown me such great support and love that I don’t ever want to stand alone in this again. If you run, I’ll find you. Thank you to Brenda Gonet for these gorgeous covers. I love the way the entire series turned out and am on pins and needles wanting to show them off right now. Thank you to Michele Milburn for going over every word more times than you should have. I appreciate your dedication and thoughtfulness in every step of the journey. You’re a keeper!
To anyone I may have missed—I’m terribly sorry. Please know that I’m an idiot.
About the Author
As a child, JC was fascinated by things that went bump in the night. As they say, some things never change. Now, as an adult, she divides her time between the bad-ass bikers, sexy law men, mythical creatures, and kick-ass heroines that live inside her head. A San Francisco Bay Area native, JC has also called both Texas and Louisiana home.
These days she rocks her flip flops year-round in Northern California and can’t imagine a climate more beautiful. Her dream is to own her own Harley and she feels compelled to tell you that she is Team Peeta all the way. JC is the author of the Bayonet Scars series and the Men with Badges line.
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CONTENTS
Timeline
Prologue
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
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author