Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 226(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
EPILOGUE
REBEL
Six months pregnant, and Clara had never looked more beautiful. Her lush curves had filled out even more, and there was a glow about her that hit me square in the fucking chest every time I laid eyes on her. Today, with the orchard bustling and alive for the annual Bunny Day event, she moved through the cheerful chaos with easy confidence, greeting families and managing small crises without breaking stride.
Children raced around, some squealing with laughter, others bickering over who got to hold the softest baby bunny, and each squabble made Clara shoot me a playful smirk. “Better pay attention, biker boy. You’re gonna have to handle stuff like that if you really want a whole bushel of kids.”
My heart tightened at the idea of Clara round and swollen with more of my babies. She was so fucking beautiful when she was pregnant, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from keeping her that way for a long time. I raised a brow, my voice confident when I assured, “Don’t you worry, baby. I’ll manage just fine. Even if they are sassy like their mama.”
She giggled, her amber eyes sparkling as she lifted a crate filled with gift bags, only to have me snatch it from her hands with a frown. “Damn it, woman, sit your pretty little ass down before you hurt yourself. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
It was probably no more than a few pounds, but still.
Clara rolled her eyes dramatically and snatched the box back from me, her voice firm. “If I have to sit down and watch everyone else do all the work, I’ll lose my mind.”
“Clara—”
The bell above the store’s door jingled, cutting off my words as a frazzled woman strode in, a baby carrier slung over her arm. Her eyes were narrowed, exhaustion and anger radiating off her.
“I’m looking for Griffin Reid,” she snapped, adjusting the carrier. “He wasn't at his residence, and someone mentioned I might find him here.”
Surprise flickered across Clara’s face before I stepped forward, my jaw tightening slightly. “He answers to Cross. Why are you looking for him?”
“It’s personal.” She sputtered for a second before adding, “I mean, it’s not something I can share without his permission.”
I wanted to question her further, but something about the stubborn set of her jaw told me I wouldn’t get anything out of her. So, I pulled out my phone and murmured, “Cross is here. I’ll let him know he has a visitor.”
After firing off a quick text, I watched the woman carefully as Clara gently approached her, trying to subtly glean information. “Is everything okay?”
The woman just scowled harder, clearly unwilling to share details.
Cross strode in minutes later, his brows knitted in confusion. Before he could open his mouth, the woman shoved the carrier toward him, her voice edged with barely restrained anger and something I couldn’t put my finger on. “You’re a hard man to find Griffin. Here. This is Isa—I mean Isabella. The baby’s mother, Rea Norman, passed away three months ago. Since you’re her dad, she’s your responsibility now.”
The stunned silence was absolute. Cross stared at her, his mouth opening and closing, finally sputtering, “What the fuck are you talking about? Who the hell is Rea Norman? I’m not a—”
The woman’s glare darkened even more before she interrupted him, “I’m not surprised you don’t remember your one-night stand, but apparently, she sure remembered you because she listed you as the father on the birth certificate. Congratulations, Dad.”
She glanced at the baby, looking for a moment as if she might cry. Then her expression cleared, and she turned on her heel to storm out, leaving Cross standing in shock. He blinked a few times, then set the carrier carefully on the counter and shot Clara a pleading look. “Can you watch her for just a second?”
Before waiting for a response, he bolted after the woman.
Clara stood frozen, her mouth agape as she stared after him, but the soft cry of the baby snapped her attention back down to the little bundle. Moving carefully, she reached in, undid the buckles, and gently picked up the baby girl, cradling her naturally against her chest.
“You know,” Clara murmured softly, studying the baby’s delicate features, “she certainly looks like Cross.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but it didn’t reconcile with the man I knew. Cross wasn’t the one-night kind of guy.
Glancing at Clara, I was distracted by her sweet, dreamy expression.
“I wonder what ours will look like,” she whispered.
Careful not to squish the baby, I pulled her into my arms. My heart swelled with an emotion that was becoming damn familiar when she was around. I pressed a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the apple and honey scent that always clung to her skin. “Hopefully, they’ll have your chestnut hair and those amber eyes.”