by Pippa Grant
“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” I promise, cradling her head in my hand, fingers snagging in her tangled hair. She’s a mess—still in last night’s clothes with her hair wild and her eyes puffy from crying.
And she’s beautiful. Perfect.
“Husbands and wives sleep together,” Kyle declares with a sneer. “Any court of law—”
“Hasn’t fucking declared you the owner of that alpaca, so you can just hand him back over right now.”
Fury courses through my veins.
I don’t get pissed.
But I’m fucking livid right now.
Kyle doesn’t seem to realize he’s in danger. “You’re wasting everyone’s time, and you’re costing me money. The courts call it abandonment. You won’t win, so stop trying to convince us this marriage is real.”
“You think this isn’t real?” I’m clinging to Hope so I don’t put my fist through Kyle’s face. “I. Love. This. Woman. And on top of that, who the fuck gets married just for an alpaca? No one. That’s who. So don’t stand there telling me my marriage isn’t real. It’s as real as the sun coming up in the morning and as real as you being a pompous asshole who only cares about money.”
“He cares about his elephant dick too,” Cara calls. “And so do I.”
We all momentarily gape at her, and Hope, who’s gone completely still in my arms, sob-shouts, “I have a UTI!”
Kyle swings back around. “What?”
“Baby—” I start.
“If you’d let me explain,” she continues, twisting in my arms to glare at Kyle, “I could have told you before why I left Blake at the winery. I woke up in the middle of the night in pain and had to come get medicine.”
“Ugh, UTIs are the worst,” Cara says. “I get one every time I have too much sex.”
“Exactly,” Hope says.
We all pause again, once again looking at Cara.
“Cara, go wait in the car,” Kyle snaps.
“So if sex is how you judge a marriage,” I say, “and my wife is getting an infection from too much sex, and yours isn’t…”
“We’re having so much sex.” Hope swipes at her eyes, her voice getting stronger. “Sex in the shower.”
“Sex on the floor,” I add. “And on the kitchen counter.”
“And in your truck.”
“And your truck.”
I scrub a hand across my chin, pretending to search my memory before nodding as my temper cools and I relax into our story. Not too hard, since I’ve fantasized about making love to her all these places. “Yep, sure did. And in the stables.”
“And the barn,” she says, turning a watery grin up at me. “Totally worth the hay in tender places.”
“And in the family bathroom in the square, and—”
“Okay, okay,” Kyle says, propping a hand on his hip. “So you’ve allegedly banged a lot. But you still slept apart last night, and that’s admissible in a court of law.”
She nods to me. “I told Blake to stay there since he had some work to do first thing.”
I’m starting to catch on. “But I forgot my toolbox,” I say, cutting in before Kyle can say something stupid, which, judging from the sneer still curling his lip, he’s eager to do. “And good thing. If I’d come home to find you’d stolen our animal, I would have had to call the sheriff and that certainly wouldn’t look very good for your case, would it?”
“You can’t steal your own property,” Kyle says. “And all I’m hearing is a bunch of lies and excuses.”
“You think my wife’s lying about having a urinary tract infection?” I ask, glaring at his pompous face.
“I mean, not to be gross about it,” Hope adds, “but they do call it the honeymooner’s disease for a reason.”
“I want to see a doctor’s note,” he says. “Or at least a prescription.”
“And I’d like you off our property before I have to go fetch my shotgun,” I say pleasantly. “My wife’s medical history is none of your business. And neither is our sex life or our married life or anything else. The only important part is that it’s real.” I squeeze her hand before letting it go and descending the steps slowly, giving Kyle plenty of time to dread the moment when I reach him.
Long before I even get close, he takes a step back, clearly reading the warning in my eyes.
“So here’s what you’re going to do,” I say in a soft, but dangerous voice. “You’re going to get off this land and stay off of it until you’ve learned to behave yourself and are invited to come back.” I nod toward Dean. “And you’re going to call off your detective and get him out of sight of our farm.”
Kyle jerks his chin up. “I’ll do no such thing. I have every right to—”
“You have the right to observe us while we’re in a public place. You have no right to come onto our property without permission and take animals out of their pens. And you certainly have no right to camp in the Fricks’ pasture. One call and they’ll have the sherriff’s department out here so fast Dean won’t have time to roll up his yoga mat before he’ll be cited for trespassing.”
“I’m not technically in their pasture except to use the bathroom now and then,” Dean pipes up, “but camping on the side of a public road is against the law in Happy Cat. I mentioned that to Kyle, but he said no one enforced those laws.”
“Well, we can make sure they’re enforced now,” I say, casting a tight smile Dean’s way. “My brother’s a firefighter and real close with the local law enforcement.”
Dean nods, glancing up at Chewy. “Well, I guess I’m ready to head out, then. He can keep the hat if you don’t mind. It looks good on him.”
Huh. Chewpaca stole Dean’s hat while we were all arguing.
“It does, thank you,” Hope says, relief in her voice as she hurries off the porch and past Kyle and me. She takes Chewy’s lead from Dean, stroking the alpaca’s nose as he nuzzles her neck in welcome and his tail begins to wag.
“That alpaca is mine,” Kyle says.
“Then you won’t mind proving it in court,” I reply tightly. “Get. Off. Our. Property.”
“C’mon, Kyle,” Cara says. “Let’s go see if we can give me a UTI while I can still get a prescription for antibiotics. I don’t know what kind of medical care will be available while we’re on safari.”
“I will see you in court,” Kyle mutters as he stalks off with Cara and Dean.
And I dash to catch up with my wife.
She’s so precious, and I’m terrified I’ve scared her again.
I snag her hand as I reach her. “You okay?”
She sucks in a shaky breath and nods while we walk. “Yes. Yes. Thank you. You—you saved him. And me. Even though I probably don’t deserve to be saved.”
I pull us to a stop and turn to face her, Chewpaca beside us, and hold her gaze, waiting until I can feel her full attention fixed on me before I whisper, “I meant what I said last night. I love you. And that doesn’t stop because you needed some space.”
Her eyes fill with fresh tears and tension digs in between her brows. “But I ran away.”
I nod. “I know. And I still love you.”
She swallows, her throat working. “And I’m afraid.”
“I know, me too,” I say, the backs of my own eyes beginning to sting. This has been one hell of a morning already. “It’s scary as hell. But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”
“No, I’m not.” She blinks faster, sending fresh tears streaming down her already puffy cheeks. “I don’t think I know how to love a human like this. I’m so scared, Blake. I’m scared you’ll make me love you more than anything in the world and then you’ll realize you’ve made a horrible mistake. I can’t live up to this idea you have of me and I’ll probably never be able to love you the way you deserve, and then you’ll leave and I’ll be so broken I’ll never—”
“Hush.” Heart breaking with a mixture of pain and relief—she does feel it too, this unparalleled pull—I draw her close, hugging her tight as I promise, “Baby, I�
�m never going to leave you. Haven’t you realized that by now? Whether we’re friends, enemies, lovers, or a mix of all three, I’m going to keep coming back for more. I can’t stay away from you. Even when I try.”
She sniffs. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”
“And I don’t want to be yours.”
“And I don’t think I can be just your friend,” she whispers.
“Yeah, me either.” I kiss the top of her head. “I want to get you naked too much.”
She pulls back, gazing up at me with a worried look that isn’t comforting, but it’s honest and that’s all I can ask of her. “And I think we should talk more. And maybe I should talk to someone else.”
I frown. “Someone else?”
“Like a counselor maybe,” she says, gaze cutting to the right.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding my encouragement while Chewpaca nuzzles her hair like he’s thanking her and telling her he loves her too. “If you think it will help, that would be great. And I could come with you, if you want.”
Her attention shifts back to me, a wry smile curving her lips on one side. “You want to go to marriage counseling with your fake wife?”
“I want to go to counseling with the woman I love,” I correct. “If she thinks it would help. God knows I’m not a flawless specimen.”
“But pretty close,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “As far as I can tell.”
I brush her hair from her forehead. “Well, thanks. But I’m sure there are lots of ways I could learn to be a better partner to you. To give you what you really need instead of what I think you need, you know? And…listen better and shit.”
She laughs softly. “That’s the most important part, I hear. The ‘and shit’ part.”
I grin. “Yeah, well, cut me a little slack, okay. I grew up with three brothers. I’m probably the most touchy-feely of all of us, but I’m still a dude raised with dudes. All the O’Dell boys are a touch feral.”
Her smile falls. “Speaking of feral, I have a wild cat colony from over in Milledgeville due at nine and I still have to take a shower because right now I look like the Feral Cat Queen, not the woman who’s going to turn their savage lives around.”
“You’re beautiful,” I insist.
“I’m a mess,” she says on a laugh. “But thank you for standing with me while I try to get a little less messy.”
“It’s an honor. Come on. Let’s get this sweet boy back to his home so you can get a shower.”
She looks at Chewpaca, who gazes back at her with utter adoration.
I’m the last person to believe in things like crystals and star charts, but for a second I channel my inner Olivia because I swear I see both of their auras light up with joy. Hope gives her entire self to the creatures in her care—body and soul—and in turn they love her with a trust and devotion I’ve never seen before. Not in an entire lifetime of growing up around country folk who love their pets like members of their family.
I want to make her light up like that someday, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make it happen.
Starting tonight, by showing her I want her to be a part of my life, even my belated bachelor party.
Especially a part of my belated bachelor party.
Eighteen
Blake
* * *
I should be working at the vineyard—removing excess bud breaks from my vines—but I don’t want to leave Hope or Chewpaca alone right now.
Thankfully, I have a trick up my sleeve.
Namely, my brother.
After a quick text, Clint shows up without question.
“Go work,” he orders me. “I’m on alpaca guard duty.”
“That’s not necessary,” Hope says, running a hand through her still damp hair. In addition to being sexy and sweet, my wife takes quite possibly the fastest showers known to female kind. Call me crazy, but I find that kind of efficiency hot.
But then, I find almost everything about her hot, lovable, or both.
“I can keep an eye on him while I work,” she adds.
Clint pulls a Marine look on her, and if it’s possible for a human body to stutter, that’s exactly what hers does.
“I mean thank you,” she says hastily. “Sir. Thank you, sir.”
“Need anything?” I ask him. “Water? Sunscreen? Some palmetto bugs to snack on?”
He turns a glare on me.
The man’s in full Devil Dog mode, and I’ve never been more grateful to have him as my brother.
“What can I help with?” I ask Hope.
She shakes her head. “After the feral cats arrive in about twenty minutes, I have a preschool group coming to visit, and a pair of miniature horses being delivered this afternoon. But Rick can help with the horses when he gets here. You have stuff you need to do at the winery. You can finally start planning opening day.”
“It can wait.”
“Really?” she presses. “You’ve already been delayed so long and I—”
“It can wait,” I insist. “Clint and I are here for the day.”
She casts a glance at Clint and pulls me a few feet away. “Can I confess that I find your brother just a teeny bit scary?” she whispers.
“Yes,” I whisper back, “but he’s on our side, and he’s only scary when he has to be. Ask him about his pet frog sometime, but not while he’s on alpaca guard duty. He doesn’t like to get emotional when he’s being all Marine-y.”
“I heard that, asshole,” Clint growls.
“That’s his pet nickname for me,” I add.
Even though she says she’s fine, and even though Clint’s on duty, I stick around the farm to help.
And I’m so glad I do. I get to watch her welcome her preschool group—a ridiculously cute assortment of small people—and lead them around the farm, telling them the stories about all the different animals, where they came from and how they contribute to the world and what everyone can do to give animals a safe place to live.
I love watching her relax and light up. And then she kneels down to hug a little girl who’s afraid to pet the dogs, assuring her that she never has to do anything she doesn’t want to do and the dogs’ feelings won’t be hurt, and my heart breaks open a little wider, letting more love inside.
She’s such a damned good person. And knows so much more about love than she gives herself credit for.
I make a mental note to tell her I think she’s an excellent lover of humans just as George makes an appearance, waddling into the pasture to take a turn on the baby goat slide before heading for the feed trough, earning himself a swift chasing-out by Chewpaca. Chewy snorts, and then emits a sharp cluck when George plops on his rump just outside the fence and chitters raccoon smack in the alpaca’s direction.
“You have your own slide, George,” I say. “Don’t torment Chewpaca. Don’t you need to be home? Go home for popcorn? Or supper? Something?”
He tilts his head at me, and a minute later, he waddles back toward the road.
“He keeps stealing the baby goats’ veggie treats,” Hope tells me with a nod at the raccoon as the preschoolers load up on their bus, giggling and making animal noises, making me think the field trip was a rousing success. Clint’s still standing guard, but he hasn’t disturbed the flow of the day. Sure, he made the teacher’s aide sniffle a little just by looking at her, but the kids climbed him like a statue.
“I think he’s taking presents to Sticky Fingers and the babies,” Hope adds.
“He’s a ladies’ raccoon, isn’t he?”
She laughs. “He’s a one-lady raccoon, and Sticky Fingers has him wrapped around her fluffy tail. You hungry? I’ve got a frozen lasagna I can throw in the oven. Should be ready for dinner in about an hour.”
“I have dinner plans for us,” I tell her.
She lifts a brow. “Oh, you do, do you?”
“We’re going to have a ton of food at the bachelor party.”
Her brows inch even higher. “That’s dinner plans for you.”
“No, for both of us. It’s a bachelor party poker game at my folks’ house. Cassie and Olivia are coming. Probably George too. We can bring Chewpaca. If you think he might want to celebrate with us.”
She blinks once, then twice, and then throws her arms around me. “That would actually be amazing,” she says. “I know I said Kyle wouldn’t steal Chewpaca, but after today I’m not so sure. I talked to Mr. Ashford earlier, and he verified that since there’s a dispute over which of us was married first, there’s no legal precedent to rehome him without official paperwork, but…I think Kyle’s getting desperate for closure.”
I squeeze her tight. “Then Chewy comes with us tonight. I won’t let anything happen to him. I promise.”
Two other iron vices circle us, lifting us both off the ground. “I won’t let anything happen to him either,” Clint says. “Or you two. We’re going to have the best bachelor party ever.”
Nineteen
Hope
* * *
I’m falling in love with my husband.
Or maybe I’ve always been in love with him, and I’ve just finally stopped fighting it.
Whichever it is, I should probably stop. Or start.
Stop falling or start fighting.
Instead, I push all the stressful thoughts to the back of my head and put on my cutest sundress—the soft blue one with the crisscross top that makes my modest chest look like something pretty special—strappy sandals, and earrings. Honest to god earrings, that I have to dig out of the back of my office junk drawer, where I tossed them in the middle of a work emergency after Jace and Olivia’s wedding, which was the last time I was anything close to dressed-up.
But the look on Blake’s face as I meet him in the kitchen after our separate showers is more than worth the effort.
His eyes go wide and his lips part, but no words come out for a long time until finally he breathes out a soft, “Wow,” that sends tingles racing across my skin and a smile bursting across my face.
“I can be a girl when I want to be,” I say, fingers threading together in front of me as I fight the urge to reach for him. He also looks delicious, good enough to eat in a white button-up rolled at the sleeves and a pair of crisp khaki shorts. “You ready?”