Epilogue
SOME YEARS LATER
FLORENCE
“I hate to be the bear of bad news…” My voice trails off as I catch my breath and lower myself onto the Adirondack chair next to my husband. “But this is the last one. I. Am. Done.”
“Bear? Where?” Our six-year-old daughter jumps to her feet, startling the goats.
Then, they faint. Used to it by now, we ignore them.
Everley bounces on her toes. “Can I pet it?”
“No. We don’t pet bears.” Dex chuckles and bops her on the nose. “Mommy meant bear-er.”
She pouts and points behind her. “Can I go play by the water, please?”
“Let’s wait until your cousins get here,” I suggest.
She rolls her eyes and returns to whatever game she was playing with Vincent van Goat, Butt-Head, Duck Norris, and Hopscotch, our Lionhead Rabbit, the newest member to the farm that’s our backyard.
With her gray eyes and dark hair, she’s every bit her father—until her sass came in. Since her first word—no—I’ve had nothing but respect and sympathy for my parents. If Dex didn’t shave his head, he’d be bald from stress.
She entered the world kicking and screaming one year after we moved into our new home. A lot happened in the twelve months following the completion of the cabin. We got married, I graduated with my business degree, Everley was born, and I became an equal partner of Moore Lumber.
Well, Moore Lumber & Daughters, as it’s called now.
Because yes, daughters. Plural.
I glance at the baby video monitor on the table, watching our three-year-old twins, Bryony and Cassidy, who should be asleep, yapping away to each other.
If three wasn’t enough, number four is currently using my bladder as a punching bag.
Dex senses my discomfort and leans over to place a large hand over my swollen stomach. “Last one, huh? You sure?”
I point a warning finger at him. “Don’t give me that look, Dexter Robert Moore.”
He smirks. “What look, Florence Abigail Moore?”
“The look that got me into this mess.” I circle my belly. “Damn you and your seductive ways.”
“I think you’ll find you’re the one who seduced me.” He pats his lap. “Come here.”
Heaving myself out of the chair, I waddle over and plop myself down on his knees.
Dex has really leaned into the whole dad bod physique over the years, which might explain why I’m always pregnant.
A man in flannel with a baby strapped to his chest really hits you in the ovaries when you’re ovulating.
Gently, he curves his arm under my stomach and lifts carefully.
“Oh, god. That’s good,” I moan.
The immediate relief has me melting into him. His forearm flexes, muscles and tattoos rippling. He’s decorated head to toe in black ink, and I admire the bright purple aster on the inside of his wrist.
My tattoo.
“Trouble, noises like that are why you’re in this mess.” The scruff on his chin scratches my bare shoulder. “I’m happy with the army you’ve given me. Would’ve been happy with just my ring on your finger.”
I shuffle to sit sideways at the emotion clogging his voice. A sentimental smile pulls at his lips.
“You’ve given me the world and then some,” I say as I cup his cheek.
He brushes his lips against the tattoo on my wrist.
We look out at the lake, glistening with the sun’s rays. The weekend we moved in, Dex moved our chairs to the water’s edge to watch the sunset, and he’s done it every Saturday since. Not a week after Everley was born, he crafted a smaller version of our chairs.
When Bryony and Cassidy came along, he spent an entire weekend in the workshop.
It’s the girls favorite tradition, watching their daddy lug the chairs down the path, clapping and cheering him on. I’m his biggest cheerleader, though.
The sound of an engine draws closer. Dex doesn’t react, so I tap him on the shoulder. “Looks like the first guest has arrived.”
He checks his watch. “Right on time. Any guesses which brother it’ll be?”
His question is answered when Booth’s voice booms through the trees, all the way from the front of the house.
Drawing Dex’s attention to my face, I smile and mouth three words, soaking up this last drop of tranquility before everyone arrives.
I love you.
His eyes flicker, shining with so many words I feel deep in my bones.
I love you, he mouths back.
BOOTH
“Silv, where are my shorts?” I shout.
Silence.
“Silver?”
“Define shorts…” a sultry voice replies from behind the bathroom door.
I scoff and continue rummaging through the open suitcase. “The ones that don’t make my butt pop.”
The door swings open, revealing my little witch, brow raised and ready to duel. “Seriously?”
“You’re right,” I sigh, shoulder slumping before I wink at her. “Everything makes my butt pop.”
A towel smacks me in the face. The towel that was wrapped around my wife’s naked body. I scramble from my spot on the floor, fighting with the damp material, and groan pathetically when I regain my sight.
She strides across the hardwood floor, aware of the effect she has on me. After nearly eight years together, her joy in torturing me hasn’t lessened.
I watch her slide on a matching set of black lingerie, utterly engrossed in the lace as it slides up her velvet-soft skin.
The outrageous noise from the cuckoo clock has us both jumping.
“God, I hated that monstrosity the first time we stayed here, and I hate it more now.” She scowls at the mechanical bird before it escapes into its house again.
Nostalgia hits me when I take stock of our surroundings. The familiar cedar walls and floor-to-ceiling window transport me back in time. We’re only in Sutton Bay for a few days, and as usual, Dex lets us stay in The Nook whenever we visit from New York.
Life is busy and perfect. Theodore’s, the restaurant named after my dad, is busier than ever, with a six-month waitlist for a table.
Pedro, the executive chef, retired two years ago.
I’d debated remaining in my role as head chef, knowing I’d miss the grind in the kitchen, but it was the natural progression in my career.
It didn’t take long for me to find my groove.
Since my promotion, I’ve assisted in the opening of three new flagship restaurants in Boston, Chicago, and Atlanta.
My powerhouse wife is ruling the world, breaking men’s spirits one boardroom meeting at a time. It’s a no-brainer that she’s in line for CEO when her dad retires. Aly’s mom is constantly trying to convince him to take a step back, and as all Argiros women do, she’ll get her way soon enough.
“Come on, Dimples. We’ll be late if you don’t get a move on,” Aly says, slipping a simple black summer dress over her head.
I prowl over to her, forcing her backward until her knees hit the bed and she drops to the mattress. Lightly pinching her chin, I raise her silver eyes to meet mine.
“I have a proposal for you first,” I murmur.
Intrigue dances across her face. “A business proposal?”
“Not exactly.” I gesture around the cabin. “You love a smart investment, correct?”
She nods. “I do…”
I lower to my haunches and wedge myself between her thighs, hands on her hips. “How about we invest in a vacation home in the area? Somewhere to call our own when we visit or need an escape from the city. Nothing big or fancy.”
Her mouth parts in surprise. “You’ve thought about this for a while?”
The woman reads me like a book. “So smart and perceptive.”
I lean up, sealing our mouths in a kiss. I pull away when her hands drift lower, nails scraping over my pecs, the sensation shooting straight to my cock.
“And beautiful,” I rasp against her lips before nipping my way down her jawline. “And sexy.”
“Hmm,” she hums, baring her neck to me. “Keep going.”
She sighs when I suck the sensitive skin below her ear, tits thrusting into my open palms. The insatiable need for her sweet little noises and delectable body increases tenfold every day, whether we’re together or oceans apart.
Work demands a lot from us. We wouldn’t have it any other way, both driven and passionate. It’s moments like this, completely alone and relaxed, that I savor the most.
I work my way down her body. “Is that a yes?”
She nods, head lolling to the side when I push her dress up, revealing her damp panties. “Yes. Whatever, yes. Just fucking do whatever you’re planning.”
“Greedy little thing.” I chuckle against her skin. “Good thing Dex already sold me The Nook, huh?”
Her head dings up in surprise. “He what?”
“Don’t play coy. You heard me.” I rest my chin on her knee, doing my best puppy dog eyes. “It’s ours, and before you say we should’ve discussed it first, this is an early anniversary present. What better gift than the place where you fell in love with me?”
She snorts and flicks me on the forehead. “Booth, I don’t need a present.” Her gaze softens, a version of Aly few get to witness and just as extraordinary as her sharper side. “I love you.”
My grin is big, drawing out my dimples that she pokes with the tips of her fingers.
“I love you, too, beautiful. Don’t forget, it’s an investment.” I wink.
“An investment in what?” she asks curiously.
“Into us.”
With a firm tug on my T-shirt, she drags me forward and smashes her lips to mine. Her eager touch roams over me, but when she reaches into my briefs, I clamp a hand around her wrist. “Ah-ah. We don’t want to be late.”
Her scowl quickly melts. “C’mon then, lover boy. There’s a barbecue with your name on it.”
GRAHAM
I follow the sweet smell of fresh-baked cookies into the kitchen. What greets me is an even sweeter picture.
Shimmying her lush hips left and right to the song on the radio, Quinn bends over and pulls out a tray from the oven.
Tied around her middle and accentuating the dip of her waist is the red and white polka dot apron I got her last Christmas.
Her cheeks are rosy from running around all morning, trying to finish as many sugary snacks as she can in time for the party at Florence and Dex’s.
Yeah, fuck the party. I’m just going to stand here all day and admire my wife.