Epilogue
EPILOGUE
LYLA
“Now, we put the cream inside the donut,” Amos explains scooping up our five-year-old twin girls into his arms. He’s an amazing father that’s constantly watching over his daughters.
I had to have a talk with him after they started kindergarten this fall. Apparently, he got a reputation as the “scary dad” because he would growl at all the little boys who tried to talk to our girls. Now I’m the one that drops them off for school.
Watching them help him out in the bakery after it’s closed always brings a smile to my face. That’s what they’re doing now while I sip my herbal tea and watch the snow falling outside.
I couldn’t have imagined when I came to Mount Bliss six years ago that my life would have turned out so beautifully. Now I’m a wife to the world’s hottest bartender and a mother to two adorable little girls. Well, soon to be three but Amos doesn’t know that one yet.
“I don’t want lemon,” Lola protests with a shriek. She’s our oldest and she’s just as bossy as her father. If she has an opinion about something, no matter how small, she simply has to make it known. But Amos says he loves that about her. He’s proud of her for being assertive at a young age.
He sets his two girls on the counter beside the filling machine. “Well, what flavor do you want, my princess?”
“Daddy’s favorite,” Lydia answers. She’s the exact opposite of Lola. Where our older girl is boisterous and unafraid to make herself known, Lydia flies under the radar. She’s quiet, content to snuggle next to her father and have him read her a good story or silently follow him around the kitchen while he makes donuts.
“With sprinkles!” Lola adds.
“Alright, sit tight while your dad gets the filling, huh?” He tugs on Lydia’s ponytail and gives her a wink.
He pauses to press a kiss to my lips before he goes into the pantry. Even after years together, he’s still so affectionate and our sex life is beyond active. I think there needs to be a whole new category besides “active” for how much we’re always doing it.
As busy as our lives are running two businesses and raising daughters, he still finds a way to make sure I orgasm each day. Sometimes, multiple times.
Amos grabs the correct filling and loads the machine, showing the girls how to fill the donuts. They squeal in delight and he demonstrates how to package the dozen fresh donuts in a box. “Now these are for your Uncle Owen and his family. You girls can share, right?”
“He’s going to hate you,” I point out quietly. Owen married his Goldilocks—the woman who showed up at his cabin during the snowstorm—and they have three beautiful kids of their own. In fact, Uncle Owen is taking our girls for a sleepover with their cousins tonight.
My husband scowls at me. “Turnabout is fair play. He loaded up all the kids on gummy candy before he dropped them off here last time.”
Once a month, we watch Owen’s kids then he watches ours in return. The girls are amazing and raising them together is our greatest adventure, but it’s nice to have dedicated adult time with my husband. Granted, adult time typically ends with one of us tied to the bed. Usually, it’s me.
The bell above the door chimes, announcing Owen’s arrival and I exchange an excited glance with Amos.
“You get them settled,” he says. “I’ll clean up the kitchen.”
I follow the kids to the front of the shop where Lola is proudly carrying the box of baked treats. “Look, donuts!”
Owen shoots a glare toward the kitchen. He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like “big vindictive bastard”.
Then he drops to his knees and examines the box. “These look tasty. Did you girls make them yourselves?”
Lydia nods. “Daddy helped a little.”
“I’m sure he did,” Owen says. “You beautiful ladies ready to go see your cousins?”
“Yes!” Lola squeals. She’s ever the social butterfly and always ready to mingle with other people.
Lydia glances back toward the kitchen.
“Go tell Daddy goodbye again if you want,” I encourage our youngest as I zip up her little purple coat. “He would love one more hug.”
She bounds off to do that, a smile stretching across her face.
“I said goodbye,” Lola says when I reach for her coat.
I nod at her, helping her into the bright blue jacket with rhinestones. She’s a little fashionista already. Amos is going to have his hands full when she becomes a teenager.
“But he might get sad when me and Lydia are gone.”
“You want to give him one more hug too?” I prompt. I love how much they adore their father and how the feeling is clearly mutual. He’d move heaven and earth for his girls if they asked him to.
Lola passes the box of donuts to her uncle. “One more hug.”
Owen and I chat for a few minutes. His quick banter and teasing comments make me feel like I have a brother.
Two years ago, Jamie went to prison for stealing from those businessmen. I wrote him a letter. I let him know that he’s still my brother, that I love him, and hope he’ll want to be a part of my life.
He never responded and at this point, I don’t expect him to. But that’s OK. Amos’s brothers have accepted me and taken me under their wings. They treat me like I’m their kid sister and I love it. Plus, it makes Amos all growly when they tease me.
The girls finally return, and Owen loads them safely into his truck. I wave until the vehicle disappears into the snowy night.
When I return, the lights are off in the shop and Amos is wiping down the last of the countertops in the kitchen. He never complains about the long hours he works for his family.
“Your brother was most appreciative of those donuts,” I say.
His shoulders shake from his booming laughter. “I’ll bet he was.”
“You ready to go?” I’m already thinking about our jacuzzi in the master bathroom. My big mountain man might claim he hates baths, but he’ll happily spend hours in it with me. Sometimes, he just holds me while we talk about our days. Other times, he plays with my body until I’m bucking against him and pleading for the release I need.
“I want to show you something.” He takes my hand and gently tugs me through the employees only door and up the stairs to his old apartment. We’re rarely in here these days but he refuses to rent it out. He insists it would be too noisy for a tenant. I think he’s just a sentimental softie.
“What is this?” I ask when I open the door and see the candles along the living room floor. I pause in front of the big picture window, remembering so many wonderful times in this place.
“It’s the anniversary of our first week together,” he explains, wrapping his arms around me. “It was snowing just like this.”
My eyes fill with tears of happiness and I blink them back. “I seem to recall there were some restraints involved.”
Amos chuckles. “Nice try, honey. You know I don’t do that shit when you’re pregnant.”
I snuggle into his chest. “How did you know?”
He rubs his big hands along my curvy hips. “I know your body. Better than my own.”
I turn in his arms and lean up to kiss him. “Then show me.”
Hours later, after Amos has worn me out from multiple orgasms, I cuddle up next to him in that old four poster bed. He lets me put my cold feet on his legs, not complaining that they’re ice blocks. But it’s not my fault he’s so warm.
He just wraps an arm around me and pulls me close, putting my head on his shoulder. He presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “You make me happy.”
I fight a yawn and smile. “You make me happy too.”
It still amazes me how one simple snowstorm could change the course of my life. Thanks to that weather disaster, I took a chance with my hot mountain man, the one who became my happily ever after.