by Carly Keene
“Well, if anybody deserves it, it’s you.” She winks at me. “Go pacify Herself. She ‘bout to have a hissy fit, worried about you.”
I go upstairs and brace myself for a Manda lecture, but she just says briskly that she’s glad I’m home, and can she get her hair-and-makeup girl to do my look before the party, and do I have a proper dress?
Yes and yes, I tell her. I have a midi-length sequined dress in ice green that will be nice with silver heels. It’s beautifully made, with built-in support for my obnoxious boobs.
That Dakota spent hours worshiping with his mouth. I shiver.
“You look—” She breaks off to study me. “Different.”
My cheeks flush with warmth for the eight-millionth time this weekend, and her eyebrows go up. “Tell me his name again.”
“Dakota. Dakota Sledd.” Saying his name gives me fever chills, which I try to cover up.
“Hmm,” Manda says, looking concerned, “he, um, likes you?”
“He does,” I say, trying to keep the satisfied smile off my face and failing miserably. “He likes me a lot.”
Manda stands there with no smugness at all on her face. “Just the way you are?” She sounds awed.
“He went to great lengths to let me know how much,” I say, and this time I don’t try to hide my smile.
“That’s nice,” Manda says, and pats my arm. “I look forward to meeting him properly this evening.”
As I’m helping her set out cocktail napkins and plastic glasses and telling the hired bartender where to set up the bar, I keep puzzling through it. I have no idea what’s got into Manda.
I do, however, know what got into me: Dakota, his beautiful body. And his gentleness, his sweet nature? Those got into my heart. I feel so grateful. All afternoon—while I’m taking my shower and shaving all over, while I’m getting dressed, while the beautician curls my hair and strokes on eye shadow—I’m thinking of him, and how soon I could move in.
The beginning of the party is a whirlwind, except that Daddy comes over to hug me. He’s a big bear of a man, my dad, and being hugged by him feels so secure. I haven’t had nearly enough attention from him, but when he does focus on me, I feel warm and appreciated and worthy. Dakota gives me the same feeling. “You look so pretty, honey. Are you sure you’re all right?” Daddy asks me now, one hand under my chin.
“I’m happy, Daddy.”
“She is,” a new voice says, and it’s Dakota’s. I turn to look at him, and he’s gorgeous. Dark blue-gray suit that nearly matches his eyes, beard neatly trimmed, snow-white shirt, polished dress shoes. Fresh haircut. I wouldn’t have known him. Doesn’t matter what he’s wearing, though, whether suit or flannel and jeans, or nothing at all, he’s stunning. “You are happy, aren’t you, Angel?” he says, with his beautiful smile.
I nod, feeling butterflies in my stomach as we fall right into each other’s eyes once again.
“Good,” he says. Then he turns to my dad. “Lewis Montgomery?”
“Dakota Sledd,” Daddy says back, and holds his hand out to shake. “Pleasure to meet you, son. So I want to know what your intentions are regarding my daughter?”
My dad has never ever been accused of being too subtle. But Dakota’s pretty direct, too. He smiles right at my dad. “I’d like to marry her.”
I gasp. Not because he hadn’t said it to me before, but because he’s saying it right now, in front of everybody.
“You know she doesn’t have any money,” Daddy says, and waves his hand around the room. “The company’s incorporated. My current wife would get the house when I die.”
“She doesn’t need money for me to love her,” Dakota says, and his smile gets bigger. “Her worth is far beyond rubies. Or multi-million-dollar companies.”
I gasp again.
Daddy smiles. Nods. Gestures toward me, as if to say, “She’s all yours.”
Dakota turns to me, then goes down on one knee.
This is not happening.
But it is, because he’s holding my hand with one of his, and pulling a ring box out of his pocket with the other, and saying, “Angelina, my angel, will you marry me? I love you now, and I promise to love you forever.”
I can barely breathe, and my eyes are overflowing. I hope the makeup girl used waterproof mascara. “Yes,” I say through my tears, smiling. “Yes, I will.”
Wishes—maybe especially Christmas wishes—do come true.
Epilogue 1
Wishes Do Come True
Angelina, nine months later
I add the last item to the tray and carry it upstairs to the master bedroom, then out onto the second-story porch, the one that looks out on our beautiful mountains behind the cabin. My husband will be home soon. It’s the first of September, the last day of the long Labor Day weekend that marks for many American families the end of the summer and the beginning of the school year. I’ve worked all summer, since our day care facility runs all year, but there’s no denying that things will be changing for me pretty soon.
Dakota has been busy, working at the Smoky Mountain National Park over one of its busiest camping weekends, keeping an eye out for rogue campfires (not to mention rogue black bears). He loves focusing on the park and the trees growing on it, and he’s happier than I’ve ever seen him.
So am I. Moving out of Daddy’s house and into Dakota’s warm, cozy cabin last December was a turning point for me. I stopped worrying so much about what Manda and Daddy thought, and started thinking about how I could please myself—and my sweet husband, as of February 14. We got married at the tree farm’s wedding chapel and had the reception in the converted barn, and I did not care one bit that Manda wanted to host everything at the country club, to accommodate her friends who are impressed by stuff like that. I told her that since I was marrying into the Sledd family, and that they’d offered the farm as a venue, I was going to take it.
I thanked her for her help, of course. Thanked her and Daddy for providing a home for me and financial support when I needed it, but I didn’t need it now and I was going to be on my own, so there was no need for her to be concerned for me.
It was total bullshit, of course, but I do have some gratitude toward Daddy and her for helping me. Plus, I figured it couldn’t hurt to butter her up a little, just in case I need a babysitter at some point.
Because I will, I’m sure, even if it’s only a step-grandmother to take the baby so I can spend a night sleeping with my husband.
I probably got pregnant on our wedding night on Valentine’s Day. So romantic! It turns Dakota on that I’m pregnant. He spends his time rubbing my shoulders, and my lower back, and my feet. No matter how big I get with this baby, he still can’t get enough of touching me. And he’s very thoughtful. He runs me baths, does more than his share of the cleaning and cooking, and tells me every day that he loves me. That I’m his Angel.
Me, I thank Santa every day for granting those Christmas wishes of mine.
The bedroom porch is ready for the evening: the futon unrolled and all the spare pillows piled up on it, candles on the low table, matches, dinner and wine on the tray, citronella torches set up in sand-filled buckets so we won’t get drained of all our blood by mosquitoes. I have a romantic evening planned.
We will look at the stars as the evening falls and this net of lights begins to glow in our pristine sky. We’ll eat salad with grilled chicken and fresh tomatoes, and we’ll drink white wine, the bottle cold as a river-wet stone. We’ll eat strawberries. We’ll take off our clothes and love each other, naked under those swinging stars, and I’ll make another wish:
That life can go on like this. That love continues flowing between us, enveloping our baby and making our house glow with happiness. That I can make Dakota feel as loved as he makes me feel.
That wishes can keep coming true.
Epilogue 2
Circle of Love
Dakota, Christmas Eve, Three Years Later
Nana and Poppy’s farmhouse is full-to-bursting with people, and H
olly is rushing around like all of Santa’s elves at once, getting turkey out of the oven and making gravy and mashed potatoes. My parents are visiting (and staying in a nice Knoxville hotel, because my mom has no intention of sleeping at the farmhouse). Miss Nancy is here for dinner. Holly’s sister and her family will be here tomorrow.
Jackson and his wife Noelle are here tonight, and then tomorrow afternoon they take off for Missouri, to spend some time with Noelle’s family there. They like to travel when they get the opportunity. They’re both in the kitchen helping Holly with the meal.
Adam is riding herd on Bella, age four and a half, and his son Liam, who is eighteen months old and into absolutely everything, as well as my precious daughter Lindsay, age three. Liam especially can’t keep away from his baby cousin, born six weeks ago: my son Samuel, named for my grandfather Sam Sledd.
Angel is beautiful and sweet as ever. She’s resting upstairs before dinner, since the baby takes up so much of her energy. Her glorious tits are even fuller with milk for him. It’s hard for me to have to share them, but that won’t last forever. I’m hoping that her next OB appointment right after New Year’s clears her for sexytimes, because I’ve missed being joined to her lovely body. I can wait, I hope.
Because she’s so precious to me, and because I am so grateful for all I have. My house, my new job as a consulting manager with the Forestry Service, my continued relationship with my brothers and the rest of my family, and especially my wife and my children. I don’t deserve any of it, but maybe that just makes me more grateful.
All my wishes have come true.
Jackson
It’s so great to see Nana and Poppy’s house full of family again. We might be crammed around the dining table, but the food is wonderful. Noelle made a cranberry salad that is amazing, and I whipped up a green bean casserole that has the standard mushroom-soup recipe beat all to pieces. No shit, it’s really almost gourmet, with a Gruyere bechamel and slivered almonds. So good. Noelle and I have taken a couple of cooking classes lately, and we are sort of becoming foodies. It’s fun.
Everybody looks so happy today, even poor exhausted new-mom Angelina.
The tree farm and winter festival had a banner year, so much so that next Christmas season we’re going to have to hire about six college boys to swing axes with their shirts off, as well as three or four part-timers to help Miss Nancy run the gift shop. I networked my ass off last summer, and the landscaping company I run with Adam got six new big contracts for this coming summer. We’ll have to hire help to run lawnmowers. It’s a good problem to have. Dakota got his promotion, but he still consults with us on taking care of the trees.
Noelle bumps my arm, and looks up at me with those beautiful hazel eyes of hers. She’s still the best Christmas present I ever got, or ever will have, and I’m so grateful for her. “Time for the toast,” she says, nodding toward the head of the table, where Adam is standing with a glass of Beaujolais Nouveau (great with turkey breast, by the way).
We all lift our glasses. Even Angelina lifts her glass of sparkling cider. Liam lifts up his sippy cup of milk.
Then we wait for Adam.
Adam
“It is with delight and excitement that I propose our family toast this year,” I say, and have to pause to clear my throat. Who knew I’d be so emotional?
“Hear, hear,” my beautiful wife Holly says, her lively brown eyes sparkling at me.
I look around at my brothers and sisters-in-law, my parents, my adopted granny, my sleeping nephew and cute niece, my adorable yet exhausting children, and my incredible wife. Blessings, every one of them. Blessings and joys, and the living fulfillment of a dream of happiness.
I clear my throat again, and lift my glass a little higher. “I know I’ve wished you this before, but every year I wish it more: a very merry Christmas, and a year full of the best things in life. I love you all.”
“Merry Christmas!” my family choruses back, and the circle of love is complete.
The End
Thank You!
Deep thanks to you, person who read this book! You are my hero. If you can spare three minutes to review, I would be so grateful. I send you eight million virtual puppy kisses.
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Coming Soon
In January!
Heroes of Hopedale series
Carly's new series focuses on the ER Doctors of Hopedale Hospital. The good doctors give patients a second chance at life and health . . . and in return, they get a second chance at the love that's escaped them. These hot doctors will take good care of hearts.
This series is interconnected, but each one can be read as a standalone. You can count on solid happy-ever-afters, and no cheating. As always, these are sweet, sexy short romances.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Carly Keene is a small-town girl who loves to write stories about sexy, assertive men, and the women they fall irrevocably in love with. Happy endings are a must for her! She lives in Virginia with the love of her life and a crazy goofball dog.
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