EPILOGUE
Sally
Six months later…
The sound of hammering echoed through the trees, rhythmic and steady. Like everything else in my life lately, it was oddly comforting.
I sat on the porch swing of Landry’s cabin. It was bigger than the office cabin, but I missed that placed. There’d been something about those cramped walls and the one creaky bed that made things… intense. My toes were bare, my coffee warm, and inside, a loaf of banana bread was cooling on the counter because apparently, I was that girl now.
Domestic. Settled. Maddeningly happy.
“You’re staring at me again,” Landry rumbled, not looking up from where he was securing the new railing.
“Maybe I’m just appreciating the view,” I teased, watching the way his flannel shirt clung to his broad back. The man could still make my thighs clench with a single grunt.
He glanced up then, eyes catching mine and I knew that no matter how much time had passed, that look would always do something to me. It was dark and possessive, full of things he never quite said out loud but always showed me in every touch, every action.
“You keep looking at me like that, Carter, and I’m going make you scream my name before lunch.”
“Promises, promises,” I muttered into my mug, cheeks warming even now.
God, I loved him.
Not just the sex—which was still phenomenal, still wild—but the quiet things. The way he left my favorite mug out each morning. The way he built me shelves for my books without asking. The way he held me when the world felt too loud.
We were still us—snarky, sarcastic, stubborn. But the walls had come down. Slowly, sometimes painfully. And what we’d built together was strong. Real.
I smirked over the rim of my mug. “My name’s McAllister now, or did you forget?”
He froze for half a second. Then he laid down his hammer with deliberate slowness, wiped his hands on a rag and stalked toward me. “I didn’t forget.”
“You sure? You haven’t said it once since the courthouse,” I said, tilting my head in mock disappointment. “Six months of wedded bliss, and not one Mrs. McAllister. I’m starting to feel neglected.”
He didn’t answer. Just reached the swing plucked my mug from hands, then scooped me up in my arms like a man dead set on proving a point.
I squealed and clutched his shoulders. “Landry!”
He didn’t stop. Just carried me straight toward the front door.
“You like that McAllister name so much,” he said as he kicked the door shut behind us. “Let’s make some more.”
That stopped me cold.
My breath caught as he carried me straight into the bedroom and dropped me gently onto the bed.
“You mean…?”
He stood over me, eyes hot and hungry. “Yeah,” he said. “Let’s make a baby.”
We had talked about it. Briefly. Little murmured nothings about when we might want to start a family. Someday. But we hadn’t made any real plans. No timelines. No decisions.
Until now.
A thrill rippled through me, low and deep and warm.
I grinned up at him, kneeling on the mattress and slowly tugging my shirt over my head, letting it drop behind me. “I think that’s a fine idea, Mr. McAllister.”
His eyes darkened as he watched me.
“But you know I’m still on the pill, right?” I added, tilting my head, teasing.
He smirked, already unbuckling his belt. “Yeah.”
He kicked off his boots, then his jeans, and stood before me—big, strong, and completely mine.
“But I figure we’d need a little practice time.”
I was breathless, grinning like a fool, my heart threatening to explode from a dangerous mix of love and lust.
I held out my arms, greedy and grateful for the only man who had ever held my heart.
“You ready for that kind of trouble?” I whispered.
Landry climbed into bed, caging me beneath him, one brow raised like I’d just challenged him to a dare. “Sweetheart,” he murmured, mouth brushing mine, “I was born ready.”
And then he kissed me.
Slow and deep and full of everything we hadn’t said—and everything we would.
But we had time. We had forever. Together.