Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE: COLE
THREE YEARS LATER
I’m half a lap behind my screaming, wild-haired two-year-old daughter, and I haven’t felt more alive in my goddamn life.
“Ellie!” I shout as my daughter sprints around the feed bins, her denim overalls already caked in mud. “Wait up!” My boots thud against the rubber matting as I try to keep up, but the kid’s fast. She dodges between a couple of junior ranch hands, who look up from stacking hay just in time to see the streak of mayhem that is my firstborn.
I catch up just as she hits the open barn aisle. She skids to a stop, spins, and stares at me with the blue eyes she inherited from her mama. “I beat you, Daddy.” She giggles and dances in a circle.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I manage, grinning like a fool. I lunge, and she shrieks, but instead of fleeing, she launches herself straight at my legs.
I scoop her up against my chest. She cackles, then goes deadweight, playing possum. I tickle her ribs until she explodes in laughter. “What’s all this noise?” My wife waddles out of the barn office, looking like she just swallowed a watermelon whole.
Reine leans in the doorway, one hand braced against the frame, the other cradling her massive belly. Her hair’s a wild brown tangle, her T-shirt says “Warning: Pregnancy hormones onboard. Try me at your own risk,” and her eyes light up at the sight of our little terror barreling toward her.
Ellie plows straight into her mama’s legs, wrapping around them with a death grip. “Mommie!” she squeals. “I beated Daddy.”
“I think you pretty much beat him every day.” Reine grins at me over the top of our daughter’s head, and I swear I fall in love with her all over again. I watch Reine for a second, struck stupid by how gorgeous she looks, pregnancy hormones and all. Damn if I’m not the luckiest bastard in the world. My daughter is still glued to her mama’s legs, giggling like a lunatic.
“I don’t know, Montana,” I tease, propping my hands on my hips. “I think she’s getting faster every day.”
Ellie peeks up at me, cheeks pink and eyes shining. “I fastest!” She pumps both fists in the air like she just won the Kentucky Derby.
“You sure are, sugar.” Reine runs her fingers through Ellie’s wild hair, then shoots me a look that’s equal parts sass and exhaustion.
I pick Ellie up and toss her in the air. She giggles and kicks her little boots as I catch her, "Again, Daddy!"
"Only if you promise not to run circles around me next time," I joke as I set her on my hip. She grins, mud on her cheek and hair stuck to her forehead. I swear, she's pure chaos in a pint-sized package.
I glance at Reine, catching the way her hand rests on her belly. She's got her head tilted, a small smile on her lips. "You okay, Montana?" I ask, my voice softening. If she says the word, I’ll drop everything and carry her straight home.
She groans and pushes her hair off her face. "Your son has been doing somersaults on my bladder for the last thirty minutes, and I can't decide if I want to punch you or jump your bones,” Reine huffs and shoots me a look so loaded with sass. Goddamn. Even eight months pregnant and cranky as hell, my wife is the sexiest woman in the universe.
I laugh, letting my eyes run over her curves. She’s got that glow. All hips and attitude, lips pursed like she’s two seconds from killing me or dragging me into the back office for a quickie on the desk. “I vote for jump my bones, but I’ll take one for the team if you need to punch me first.” I flash her my best grin and bounce Ellie on my arm.
Ellie giggles and twists in my hold, her little fingers pointing at Reine’s swollen belly. “Baby brudder coming soon!” she crows.
My wife winces and grabs her stomach, where I assume our future linebacker just landed another somersault. If this kid’s anything like his sister, we’re in deep shit.
“Oh, God. I think your son’s doing CrossFit in there again.” She grimaces and does the little pregnant-waddle shuffle.
I lean in and kiss her cheek, then press my palm to her belly. “Hey, Junior, take it easy on your mama.” I’m already convinced this kid is going to be twice the handful of the first one.
I set Ellie down and pull Reine in for a proper kiss, one hand on her hip and the other tracing lazy circles on her back. “I could make it worth your while to get off your feet for a bit, Montana.” I lower my voice, knowing she’ll get flustered. “You know. Take a load off. Maybe let me give you a little massage—”