Epilogue
DALTON
Two Months Later…
“And that, kids, is how you change out a water heater.”
Twenty-four sets of beady eyes stare back at me. Drew beams up at me from my side, where we stand together in front of her class. Her little pink cast officially came off eight weeks later, holding her very own purple steel Toyo toolbox filled with vintage tools passed down from her Grandpa Hayes.
Drew gives a bow as the sound of applause fills the classroom before she takes her seat.
I’m pretty sure I lost the class of first graders ten minutes ago, when I explained to them how to wire in a thermostat—but Drew was adamant today that we teach her peers the ins and outs of what it takes to change out a water heater for her show-and-tell.
I had an epiphany on our flight to California, thinking about my post-military plans. Realizing, I did, in fact, have the experience and skill set I needed to step into my father’s shoes and start up the family contracting business again.
Only this time, I added daughter to the name.
A nod to my father, but with a twist.
Let’s just say Drew takes Hayes & Daughter very seriously.
I stand tall in the back of the classroom as I watch my daughter turn her attention back to her teacher as the class waits for their weekend dismissal.
Her long blonde braids brush against her overalls every few seconds, piercing blue eyes finding the identical set in the back of the room—her face lighting up when I flash her a smile.
It’s been exactly two months since I got my ass back home and asked the woman I’m completely obsessed with if she would be my wife. And bliss? Wouldn’t even be the words to describe how these last few weeks have been with my girls.
It feels like I won the lottery.
The smoking hot wife whom I’m obsessed with lottery.
And being a dad is the best thing on earth lottery.
The bell rings, and Drew rushes to the back of the classroom where I’m waiting. “It’s the weekend!” she squeals, lunging into my arms.
I chuckle, taking her backpack from her and slinging it over my shoulder while I grab her toolbox. “Sure is, princess. Do you have any big plans?” I arch my eyebrow at her. Making our way out of the school, I reach for her hand.
She makes a humming sound, thinking. “Well, we could go fishing,” she replies.
I agree with a nod. “We could.”
Drew skips at my side, her eyes flashing up at me with a hint of sparkle. “Or we can have a game night with Uncle Hudson! Now that my cast is off, we can play Twister!”
I manage a hard swallow, my face turning up into a grimace, remembering the last time I played Twister with Hudson—his ass two inches from my face in the downward dog as I tried to hold it together.
I try to scratch that weekend plan immediately.
“I don’t know, Drew. Your uncle isn’t really cut out for Twister. He had to tap out last time, remember?”
Letting out a huff, I help Drew into my truck. “Please, Daddy.” She pouts.
And my heart fucking skips a beat.
Because I still can’t get over her calling me Daddy.
It has to be tied for the best feeling in the goddamn world next to being called Savanna’s husband.
I cave, turning out of the parking lot toward the grocery store to pick up a few items for Savanna—she made it very clear to me earlier that she was craving ice cream—specifically Cherry Garcia—warning me not to come home without it.
“Well, how can I say no when you ask like that?” I say, winking at Drew from my rearview mirror.
She lets out a “Yes!” from the back seat as Taylor Swift kicks on through the speakers. After two months with my girls playing her on repeat—it’s hard not to be a fan at this point.
We pull into the driveway of the bungalow as Drew and I finish our duet of Love Story. Hopping out of the truck, I grab the plastic bag from the grocery store—along with the wrapped present I’ve been waiting to give Savanna all week that’s been hiding under the seat.
Drew darts up the steps ahead of me, bolting through the front door, hanging her backpack on the entry hook.
As I make my way through the entryway, I’m hit by the aroma of basil and garlic drifting from the kitchen.
Hanging up my coat next to Drew’s backpack, I kick off my work boots, winding through the living room toward the kitchen, where I find Savanna at the sink draining a pot of cooked pasta in a colander.
Standing in the doorway, I lean against the frame, crossing my arms against my chest, admiring my wife swaying her hips to the familiar country song playing softly from her phone.
Pushing off the door frame, I stalk toward her, wrapping my arms around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. “You’re going to have to stop swaying your hips like that in those leggings, baby, or else I’m going to have to take you upstairs,” I warn.
Savanna barks out a laugh in my arms, planting a kiss on my cheek.“I’m not kidding. I’ll call Hudson right now and tell him to pick up his niece, so I can have my way with you.”
“Hmm, tempting,” she teases. Peeking over her shoulder, her eyes glaze over when they land on my lips.
Before Savanna can protest, I turn her in my arms, taking hold of her hand while I move us to the music. Savanna’s eyes soften, melting into me. “I didn’t know you danced,” she says tenderly.
I pull her in close, dipping my mouth down to the shell of her ear. “Only for you, baby.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, I spin her out, then back to my chest. With Savanna’s arms laced around my neck, she catches a glimpse of a small white gift wrapped in white wrapping paper, with a red bow on top.
She stops swaying, quirking her eyebrow at me. “Dalton…what is that?” she asks, tipping her chin to the present on the counter.
I shrug nonchalantly, stepping away to grab it off the counter. I place the box in Savanna’s hands. “Oh, just a late wedding gift.” I wink.
She blushes, her eyes falling on the gift. “Dalton, you didn’t have to get me a wedding gift. You’re my husband already, remember?”
My mouth curves into a sly smile. I love that reminder. “Early Christmas gift, then?”
Savanna snickers, eyes narrowing on me. “Uh-oh. I’m afraid of what I’ll find in here.” Her voice is suspicious, holding the box to her ear as she shakes it.
“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to find out,” I nudge mischievously.
Savanna bites her lip, eyes lighting up, causing my heart to thump against my chest.
Two months since I proposed and married her under the pier, and I still can’t believe this woman said yes to a lifetime with me.
Savanna slowly unties the red bow, unwrapping the present. Sorting through the tissue paper, her finger catches on the skimpy white apron with ruffled edges. The words Mrs. Hayes stitched across the chest.
Holding it out, she gasps. A playful smile creeps across her face as she remembers her day seducing me in her kitchen—or maybe it was the other way around.
“I love it!” She jumps into my arms, slamming her lips into mine. “I love you, Mr. Hayes.”
I smile against her mouth, my arms wrapping around her. “I love you, Mrs. Hayes. Figured we could reenact some naked cooking one of these days while Drew’s at school…I’ll wear the other one so we’re matching.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
Her eyes glaze over, licking her lips at the image of us both naked and in aprons together. She makes a humming sound. “I like the sound of that,” she coos, nipping my bottom lip, causing my arousal to thicken in my jeans.
Pulling back, she studies me. “Well, we might have to do it soon, because I’m not sure how long it’ll fit,” she says nervously, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Scratching my jawline, my forehead creases. I’m pretty sure the apron I had custom-made was a one-size-fits-all situation. “Babe. I’m sure it will fit. It has adjustable straps,” I say, tugging her back to me.
She shakes her head against my chest like she doesn’t believe me. Lifting her head, her green eyes find mine. “Yeah. But it might not fit around my belly,” she mumbles.
My breath hitches. Belly?
Did she just imply what I think she did?
Is this why she wanted me to stop at the store for cherry ice cream?
“Savanna…” I drawl, eyes narrowing in on the gleam in hers. “What do you mean, it might not fit around your belly soon?”
Biting the corner of her lip, her index finger lightly traces the buttons on my flannel. “Well, there’s another Hayes growing in there. So—” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence before I crash my lips into hers, lifting her bare feet off the floor—and wrapping her legs around my waist.
Savanna pulls back from my lips, pausing to study me. “Are you happy? I know it’s soon…and we just got married...”
A deep laugh rumbles from my chest. “Baby. We are well past that stage. We have a six-year-old already, remember?”
A relieved sigh falls from my wife’s mouth, like she thought I would be upset or disappointed that my child was growing inside of her again.
Yeah, right.
Just the opposite.
I’m going to worship the ground this woman walks on.
Because I have a lot of making up to do for not being there for the first pregnancy.
And this time around? I’m going to get it right.