Epilogue
“Ready to wake up, baby?”
Buck’s calm, deep voice floated into my consciousness, even through my drowsy haze. A kiss pressed to my temple made for yet another pleasant sensation, though I still wasn’t ready to leave my bed.
“Why do we have to get up?” My words sounded mumbly. I didn’t feel like opening my eyes, though I did wish Buck would kiss my lips.
“You’re the one who needs to get up and dressed, sugar,” he crooned. “And you’re fixing to miss your own party if you don’t get out of this bed.”
My own party?
It came back to me. I’d been sleeping, but it wasn’t morning. I’d lain down for an afternoon nap. Buck and I were home, but we were expecting company. Seventy-five of our closest friends would soon be in our backyard. Not just ours, the Jenkinses. Today was our shotgun-wedding-slash-baby-name-reveal.
I opened my eyes, still groggy. Pregnancy naps were no joke. They were also kind of amazing. Second trimester hormones were a powerful drug. So potent that I had to quell the serious urge to ask for five more minutes. My words caught in my throat when Buck came into focus, looking sexier than he had any right to be in his tux.
We hadn’t bought into the old superstition about it being bad luck for the couple to see each other before the wedding. We’d spent the first hour of that morning making sweet love. We’d done it so long, and so good, you’d have thought we were on our honeymoon rather than just practicing. There would be plenty of time for more when we got to Turks and Caicos tomorrow.
“So, tell me...” Buck looked down at what he was wearing. “Do you like what you see?” He lifted my hand to kiss the tops of my fingers.
“Every single day.” My voice was dreamy. I’d been emotional of late. And I couldn’t chalk it all up to hormones. Last week, we’d celebrated our one-year anniversary, which we counted from the day he sprung me from Need for Seed. It marked the first full year of my adult life that I’d been happy.
He brought our faces closer until our noses rubbed gently.
“The girls are waiting outside. They want to help you get on your dress.”
“Where is my kiss?” I asked a bit petulantly when Buck stood up from where he knelt without planting a real one on my lips.
“I’m saving the real one for when the preacher tells me I can.”
“I would hardly call Grizz a preacher.”
“But he is an ordained minister,” Buck pointed out.
“Ordained by the internet.”
“Loretta...” He pinned me with the kind of look I didn’t think would ever fail to make my heart stutter. “I don’t care who marries us, as long as you show up at the top of that aisle and say I do.”
Buck
“Haveyou ever been to a wedding with ten damn bridesmaids?” Louie grumbled irritably from where he sat next to Dewey in the third row. A two-banjo rendition of Pachelbel’s Canon had marked the ceremony’s start. The procession of attending COOs and firefighters, among other family and friends had—indeed—made for quite the wedding party. Louie’s observation came at a moment when the refrain was coming up on its third round.
“Shut up, spunk.” Huey shoved him hard. “Show a little respect. This is a beautiful moment.”
After the cryobank incident, folks had started putting Louie in check. Large slices of humble pie were served to him by guys he’d terrorized for years. Apart from the legendary roasting he’d gotten on the spot, word had spread like wildfire among the local houses. As Louie was mocked with nicknames like The Sperminator and Jizz Biz, I’d gotten by with no smoke.
If I were a petty man, I might have used it to my advantage—ridden Louie as hard as he rode me—but I’d wanted to take the high road. Being a lieutenant, I had to be conscious of the example I set. And, at the end of the day, I didn’t want to shame him. Sperm donors did important work. Learning from Loretta, and my mother, and Adam’s amazing parents, I’d developed a true sense of empathy around fertility struggles. I’d organized an unironic guest speaker to educate the whole firehouse about sperm donation. They still gave Louie a ton of shit, but, rumor had it, there’d been some takers.
But I couldn’t think about Louie right now. Today was my wedding day, and I was about to marry the only woman I’d ever loved. Some part of me still couldn’t believe she’d said yes. I’d poured everything I had into showing her I was serious, not just about her, about all of it. Our relationship. Our babies. Our home.
After our reconciliation, it had taken three months to get to the fun part—the part where we agreed to try, to see if we could make a baby together the old-fashioned way. Now, don’t get me wrong—I’d have been ecstatic if we’d gotten pregnant the first time—but I wasn’t mad about all those months of intense trying.
I was vaguely aware that we were getting close to actually starting the ceremony when the last pair of attendants walked down the aisle. The audience stood and I took a step toward the middle, wanting to be the first to see. There had been some quibbling over who would give Loretta away—the COOs felt that they should all do it as a group, but that was decided against. My bride would walk down the aisle on the arm of Sheriff Jeffrey James.
I didn’t even lay my eyes on the man, so taken was I with Loretta. These past weeks, people had started to say she glowed. They attributed it to the pregnancy, to all the hormones and all the changes. But she had always been luminous to me.
Time did something funny for the next little while, and so did my brain. It was like being in two places at once. Part of me was laughing at Grizz’s corny jokes about how her effect on me had been electrifying, and playing my parts on cue—repeating my vows and slipping on her ring. But the other part of me was entranced by some separate conversation between Loretta and me where—in some divine silence—we spoke private, sacred vows. It all came together in the last moment as we said the all-important words.
“William Franklin Buckley Rogers, do you take this amazing woman to be your partner, for as long as you both shall live, in sickness and in health, in richer or for poorer, until death do you part?”
“I do.” I wasted so little time, my response earned a laugh from the crowd.
“Loretta Nicole Boggs, do you agree to put up with Buck’s crap, even though you’re clearly too good for him, and he’s getting the much better end of the bargain?”
The crowd laughed along with Loretta. “I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me by the Universal Online Church, I pronounce you married.”
I grinned from ear to ear as a big cheer went up.
“What Grizz hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Buck, you may kiss your bride.”
The cheers of our guests faded away, and it was just her and me again—the loveliness of her eyes and the beating of my smitten heart, the magnetic pull that drew me closer every day.
Loretta
“You didn’t tellme he had a brother,” Peggy whispered with the effect of someone who’d tied on a few. Or maybe just one—word had it, the ’shine had a kick. Moonshine Mules were our signature drink, garnished with mint from my own bushes and ginger moonshine I’d infused myself.
“He’s got two brothers,” I reported, following the line of her gaze. She was practically boring holes into Adam, who was presently on stage jamming with the band. Cletus Winston didn’t strictly play weddings, but I’d convinced him and some of his buddies to play a little bluegrass. Buck had asked Adam—who was even more wildly talented than he had seemed at first glance—to bring some instruments, too.
“Is the other one that hot?” Peggy stared unabashedly.
“The other one’s taken,” I told her. “Married to that blond over there with the rock so big it could blind the sun.”
Priscilla and Trevor were in attendance, a development that surprised us all. I’d seen a hint of tears in Buck’s eyes as he’d held the RSVP card that accepted our invitation. It was the first contact Trevor had made with either of his brothers since last Thanksgiving. Despite everything he’d learned about Rex, Trevor had gone on to marry Prissy and live his political life.
I considered Trevor staying the course as no small blessing for Annelise, a musing I’d never shared with Buck. If Trevor had abandoned him along with everyone else, Rex would have had nothing to lose. I didn’t want to think about how that could’ve turned out—a man deserted by his family, lashing out at his ex-wife.
So far as we could tell, Rex was taking everything in stride. He’d had no choice but to fall in line. After twenty-eight years, they’d divorced as elegantly as they’d married. And the press had believed the story.
He wasn’t happy, but he was compensating. He’d even hired a PR agent to help him shift away from the family man persona he’d relied upon for decades. In a scant six months, the man had completely rebranded himself.
“His mom’s so pretty, too,” Peggy observed. Annelise stood with Buck and Tim. We still called her that privately, despite the legal change of her name. “The genes in that family...It’s not even fair. Combine you and him, and your twins are gonna be ridiculously cute.”
My hand already rested on my belly. It had been doing that a lot lately and I smiled.
Buck must’ve felt me gazing in his direction. All of a sudden, he looked up. Most days, I still could not believe this man was all for me. Being with him now made me feel like everything I’d gone through to get here was worth it.
When Buck excused himself from his conversation, Peggy excused herself from ours. He strode over with intention, still looking fine in his tux. Instead of stopping next to me, he came around behind and brought his arms around, until both of our hands lay softly on my bump.
“We’re T minus ten on our ride.” He tipped his head down to nuzzle my jaw.
I nearly pouted. “But the party’s just getting good.”
A growing crowd gathered around the small stage and clapped along to the music. Dusk had fallen and the lights strung up from the trellises were all aglow. The dessert table had received a rush of appreciation. Cletus appeared to be enjoying a slice of salted caramel bread pudding from our caterer, The Noble Pig. They didn’t strictly do catering, but Buck had a connection. Despite Cletus’s dislike for law enforcement, he chatted amicably with the sheriff, who stood jovially enjoying his own dessert. I never thought I’d see the day.
“Traveling by fire truck is underrated.” Buck held me even closer. “And we should try not to miss our plane. We don’t want to keep paradise waiting.”
I just smiled and settled closer in his arms, saving what I was thinking for myself. I’d already found paradise, in him.
Want more Green Valley Heroes? The Green Valley Heroes series continues with Package Makes Perfect by Lauren Connolly! Read on for a sneak peek of Package Makes Perfect!
Do you love slow burn romance? Then check out these other books by Smartypants Romance:
Book Smart-- She”s a budding novelist and he”s determined to get out of the friend zone.
Checking You Out-- A chance encounter brings two old friends back together, with a side of small town shenanigans.
Give Love a Chai-- They”re accidentally still married after ten years apart, and he”s not signing her divorce papers without a fight.
Sneak Peek of Package Makes Perfect by Lauren Connolly
When someone bangs on my front door at eleven at night, they deserve to see me in my boxers. I do not put clothes on for unannounced late-night guests. Preferably, the sight of my overly hairy chest will encourage them to be on their way. Who knows when I might transform into a werewolf? Or maybe Sasquatch?
If people want to avoid a front row seat to my disinterest in manscaping, then they should visit at a more reasonable hour.
And I’m certainly not stomping down my stairs in my underwear because I expect this visitor to be any sort of lady with a scandalous invite. I might date around, but my phone number is not on any booty-call lists.
So, no, I’m not putting any money on this person—who disturbed me when I was seconds from sleep—being a woman in search of a night of passion.
More likely, one of my cousins got too drunk to drive home, and my house is closer to the bar than theirs. Not the first time my couch has been used to sober up.
Another round of pounding makes the windows shake.
“I’m coming!” I shout at the belligerent guest. Probably Daren. He has the most ham-handed fists of us Kraut boys.
When I unlock the dead bolt and wrench the door open, I discover my guess was close and yet nowhere near correct.
Robin Dunn stands on my front step, her fist raised for another round of aggressive knocking.
Robin is my cousin Daren’s girlfriend, and from the scowl on her face, I’m guessing this isn’t a friendly social call.
“Did you know?” Her question drips in accusation as she stares me down.
And getting stared down by Robin Dunn is no laughing matter.
I’m not a small man. I hit and surpassed six feet by the time I was in ninth grade, and my body is equal parts muscle and muffins. Donner Bakery is my weakness and the reason I veer more toward dad bod than six-pack. I know I take up space in a room.
But right now, Robin has me feeling about the size of a chipmunk.
She shouldn’t be able to do that. The physics just aren’t in her favor.
The woman is maybe five-five, and her job—fixing airplane engines—has given her muscle. But I take up at least three times the space she does and have to tilt my chin far down to meet the set of furious blue eyes in her pale, heart-shaped face. Her scowl shouldn’t intimidate me.
So, why do I have the sudden urge to beg for her forgiveness?
“Know what?” I know the response is wrong even as I say it, but I have nothing else to offer.
Her scoff rings through the humid night air, and I watch her pace away from me. Robin’s agitated movements are punctuated by the rough way she plunges her fingers into the tangle of mahogany curls around her face.
My annoyance at the unexpected wake-up call fades as I take in her distress.
Something is wrong, and my gut twists at the thought of Robin hurting.
When she moved to town a year ago to be with Daren, I liked her immediately. The aviation mechanic is a force of passion and happiness, who brings no end of joy to our formerly male-dominated family gatherings.
And someone hurt her.
“Robin—”
She cuts me off, “Did you know he was cheating on me?”
The question is so ludicrous that I gape for a count of five. Then, I huff a disbelieving chuckle.
Daren, cheat on Robin? No fucking way.
Kraut men do not cheat. If anything, we might be too focused on monogamy. My father and uncle are hopeless romantics, to the point that they started their own wedding planning business. Which is ironic because the men in my family are unlucky in love. They both lost the women they had devoted themselves to, and none of their sons can seem to find a woman, no matter how hard we all try.
Daren is the exception. He stumbled into a dive bar in Chicago, where a curly-haired former army aircraft mechanic was serving drinks and sassy smiles. He fell for her immediately and went to the bar every day for months to flirt until she fell too.
Daren would never cheat on Robin.
But when she continues to stare at me, my humor evaporates.
“He’s not,” I say, completely sure of my statement.
Daren is wild for Robin.
The real problem is why she thinks he’s stepping out on her.
Suddenly, I’m pissed. Furious actually.
Who the hell would tell her such a shitty thing? What asshole thinks it’s okay to cause this kind of drama in the middle of a happy couple?
I need to know so I can punch them in the stomach. Maybe break their nose for good measure.
“Who told you he’s cheating on you?”
Robin continues to watch me, no sign of relief on her face. She doesn’t believe me, which means someone really did a number on her.
The gossip mill in Green Valley can be brutal.
“Give me your word, Arthur,” she says, voice low and cold. “Swear to me you didn’t know.”
I don’t give my word lightly, but in this case, I don’t bother hesitating. “I swear I didn’t know because he’s not. Someone lied to you. Who was it?”
Robin chews on her bottom lip, one hand still tangled in her hair. And again, she ignores my question.
“I believe you.”
Relief rushes through me. “Good. Now, tell me, who’s spreading this shit around town?”
Robin ignores my question. “I believe you didn’t know.”
She spins away from me, marching down my front walk.
As if I could let her leave after that.
“Robin! Wait!” On bare feet, I jog after her, catching her wrist before she steps off the curb. “Look at me. Come on. Daren wouldn’t cheat on you. He loves you. Tell me who told you. We’ll straighten this out.”
Robin stands still, even as her body vibrates with tension, finally returning her hellfire glare to me. “You want to know? Then, get in the car.”
I mutter curses at the stubborn woman, then pull myself together. “Can I put some clothes on before we drive God knows where?”
With her jaw clenched, she gives a quick nod.
Not completely sure she won’t leave without me, I hightail it back to my house, jogging straight to the laundry room, where I pull on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then snatch my phone off the charger in the kitchen. When I hear the car engine starting, I grab my boots and run out the door.
Robin is already shifting into first when I fling myself into the passenger seat. The car rocks with my weight, and I jerk the seat belt into place.
While we speed through town, I shove my feet into my boots and tie the laces.
With the state she’s in, it might have been better if I had taken the wheel. But Robin always insists on driving, even when she wears her hearing aid. Without the device, her left ear doesn’t pick up much, and the partial deafness makes communicating difficult. With it, she’s said sound still feeds to her differently than she’s used to, and it can be frustrating.
There’s already enough putting her on edge tonight.
“Where are we going?”
“His house,” is her curt reply.
And I can’t help noticing how she said his, not my or ours.
After a moment, she gives me a little more. “I told him I was going to visit my mom this weekend.”
We park in the street, a short way past her driveway. On the gravel stretching toward their house, I spot Daren’s truck.
Another car I vaguely recognize sits beside it.
“That’s Carmichael Hayworth’s Ford.” Even I can hear the hope in my voice.
Maybe Robin saw the strange vehicle and jumped to conclusions. My cousin could easily be hanging out with some guys, shooting pool on the table I helped carry into their basement a few months ago.
“Carmichael has a sister. Trinity.” Robin relays the fact in a deadpan voice that twists my insides tighter.
Robin Dunn talks big, loud, and in your face. Hearing her speak in this frigid monotone gives me possessed-by-a-poltergeist vibes.
“It’s Carmichael,” I insist. “They’re friends.”
It must be. This can’t be what she thinks.
Daren couldn’t have screwed up this badly. Not with Robin. My brain can’t fathom it.
She doesn’t look at me, her eyes fixated on her front door. “Call him. Ring the doorbell. Do whatever you need to do to prove me wrong. Because hell knows I wish you could.”
With that discomforting permission, I pull my cell out of my back pocket and dial Daren’s number. After three rings, he picks up.
“Hey, coz,” Daren says, voice easy. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
The familiar teasing tempts me to relax. I get no end of shit from my family about my insistence on never staying out past ten. Normally, I’d come back with a retort, but I can’t fake joking when Robin sits beside me, gripping the steering wheel as if she wants to jerk the unmoving car off the side of the road.
I grunt. “Stressful day at work.” Not a complete lie.
A house on my mail route got a new dog. A big one that barks like my truck is a threat to its life. The thing almost jumped the rusty chain-link fence to get at me. If the owner were someone else, I might hope they plan on taking the animal to obedience training. But the guy who lives in the house is a member of the Iron Wraiths. Those motorcycle guys get off on people in town being afraid of them. He’d probably laugh if the dog took a bloody chunk out of me.
“Can’t get to sleep. Wanna grab a drink?”
This is some juicy bait I’m laying in front of him. My cousins are always trying to get me to join all-night drink-fests. To bend my rigid bedtime. I’ve never given in. This is the ultimate test.
If Daren turns me down . . .
“Damn. Rain check? I’m busy tonight.”
That’s shocking enough, but then I hear it. A small yet distinct noise in the background.
A feminine giggle.
My eyes snap to the driveway again, where Daren’s car sits. My last hope is that someone picked him up and he’s not at home right now. That my cousin found his way to a house party and that was just another partygoer.
But wouldn’t he have invited me to join?
There’s one way to find out.
“You with Robin? Maybe she wants to get drunk with me.” Somehow, I keep my voice sounding disinterested, even as the woman next to me flinches.
Daren clears his throat, and I recognize the tell. He’s about to lie to me.
“Yeah, man.” He clears his throat again. “That’s her. But we’re busy. Know what I mean? Anyway, I gotta go. Can’t keep my lady waiting.”
The call ends, along with my hope that this was all a misunderstanding.
My thoughts churn and mix and collide, a roiling mess I struggle to put in order. One phrase comes through as clear as a neon sign in a dark window.
How could he?
Daren and Robin are everything. Not perfect, but close enough. The relationship I always hoped for. A partnership I could try to model mine after. I wished I could find a woman who looked at me like Robin looked at Daren.
My cousin had found love with an incomparable woman.
And he threw it all away.
He’s throwing it away. Right now. With Trinity Hayworth.
While I come to terms with the absolute fuckup that is Daren Kraut, Robin releases her death grip on the steering wheel and leans into the backseat of her SUV. There’s a sound of rustling plastic, and the oddness of the noise surprises me enough to speak.
“What are you going to do?”
If she asks me to go in there and beat the shit out of him, I’ll be across the lawn in the next second. I consider doing it without her request, but I don’t want to leave Robin alone.
She straightens in her seat, clutching a plastic bag with the Piggly Wiggly logo on it.
“First, I’m going to go crack these two dozen eggs all over the inside of his beloved truck.” She kicks open her door and climbs out of the driver’s seat, only to lean back down and meet my eyes. The blue of her irises boil. “Then, I’m going to crash their party and get my shit.”