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)
I pictured little girls who looked just like their mama, then frowned slightly, a new thought hitting me hard. “On second thought, maybe we should only have boys.”
Clara’s head jerked up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What exactly is wrong with girls?”
“Not a damn thing,” I growled, my voice edged with protective menace. “But if we have girls, especially ones as fucking gorgeous as their mom, I’m gonna end in prison when they eventually link me to the missing bodies of every little shit that looked too long at my baby girls.”
She laughed softly, shaking her head as she leaned into me. “I love you, Ronan.”
“Love you too, baby.” My voice was rough and genuine, the words settling something deep inside my chest.
The baby cooed softly, drawing our attention again. Clara smiled down at her, cradling her closer, her expression so tender and natural it made my breath catch. As I watched Clara with the little one, the quiet wonder and warmth radiating from her, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was exactly where I was meant to be. This amazing life was mine, and sometimes it still fucking floored me to realize it.
EPILOGUE
CLARA
Over the past fifteen years, we’d added a second corn maze, a full petting zoo, and a cider-pressing station that drew crowds from three counties to our annual fall festival. The farm store had doubled in size, thanks mostly to Harper’s bakery expansion, and the pumpkin patch had become legendary under Greg’s leadership.
I stood at the edge of the photo-op area, my arms crossed as I watched Ronan and our ten-year-old daughter as they painted mini pumpkins. Her thick chestnut hair was already escaping her braid, and her amber eyes sparkled with mischief as she dabbed yellow paint.
“There. He needed a bigger smile.”
Ronan chuckled, and the deep sound still made my stomach flip after all these years. “Bossy like your mama.”
Faye giggled and smeared a streak across his beard. Used to her antics, he just set her on her feet and shook his head.
Henry, our oldest at fourteen, marched over from the hayride line. “Dad, come on. I’m tall enough now. Let me pull the wagon. Grandpa said I could if you okay it.”
Our son had learned how to drive a tractor before he was ten, but we’d agreed that he needed to be sixteen before he could help with the hayrides. Not only for insurance purposes—he needed a couple more years to mature before we trusted him with our customer’s safety to that extent.
Ronan arched a brow. “Grandpa and I have it covered. Go help your grandma in the store.”
Henry groaned. “That’s kid stuff.”
“It’s family stuff,” Ronan corrected. “Which means we all pitch in. Move.”
Henry muttered under his breath but headed toward the store, his shoulders slumped.
Before I had the chance to worry about him, his younger brother by two years came running toward me. Jonas’s dark hair was wind-tossed from running through the maze, and his gray eyes were gleaming. “Mom! I beat my best time. Can I go again?”
“Later, baby.” I ruffled his hair. “Help Henry in the store first. Then we’ll race.”
Jonas flashed me a grin that was identical to his dad’s and took off after his brother. I watched them go, my heart so full it hurt. We had three pieces of us running wild on the same land I’d explored as a child. It was everything I’d dreamed of.
Ronan wiped paint from Faye’s cheek with his thumb. “Go find your brothers. Tell them to behave or no extra cider tonight.”
“Okay, Daddy.” Faye gave him an adorable salute and bolted toward the store.
He turned to me then, a knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re staring.”
“And you’re covered in paint.”
He glanced down at the colorful streaks on his hands and shrugged. “Tradition.”
Every year since that first festival, he painted a pumpkin with me. The kids had joined in as soon as they could hold a brush. At first he’d grumbled about it, but now he put real effort in because the kids teased him mercilessly if he didn’t. He pretended to hate the razzing, but I knew better. He loved it.
I stepped closer, wiping a streak of paint from his beard. “Still think it’s ridiculous?”
“Every damn year.” His hands settled on my hips, pulling me flush against him. “Still do it anyway.”
“Because you love me.”
He dipped his head, voice dropping low. “And because winning that bean bag toss fifteen years ago got me the best prize of my life.”
Heat pooled low in my belly. “You haven’t given me my annual rematch yet.”
“Tonight.” His eyes darkened. “Winner gets whatever they want.”
I rose on my toes, brushing my lips against his ear. “Careful. I play to win.”
“Baby, I’m counting on it.”
We slipped away from the crowd, weaving through people until we reached a quiet spot. Ronan pulled me around the corner of the barn so we were out of sight and kissed me.