epilogue
Cole
“Is that what you’re going to wear?” Mariah assessed me from my bedroom doorway, her nose wrinkled.
I studied my reflection in the mirror above my dresser. “Yeah. What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s boring. You can’t wear a boring outfit to propose to Cheyenne.”
“Shhh!” I scolded, rushing to check the hallway to make sure Cheyenne wasn’t right there.
“Don’t worry. She’s downstairs on the phone with Aunt Blair.”
“Still.” I yanked her into the room and shut the door. “Keep your voice down. And I’m not wearing this to propose. I’m going to change before dinner.” I zipped up the weekend bag I’d just packed.
“Into what?” she asked suspiciously.
“A suit. What do you want me to wear, tight shiny pants?”
She giggled. “No. You’d look terrible in tight shiny pants.”
I gave her a dirty look. “Are you and Buddy ready to go to Grandma’s?”
“Yes.” Then she sighed. “I wish I could come with you.”
“We’ve been over this, honey. We love you very much, but—”
“I know, I know.” She flipped her hand in the air. “Some things are better in private.”
“Right. Plus she’d be suspicious if you were there. I don’t want her to know what’s coming.”
Mariah pouted. “But call right afterward, okay?”
“I will.”
“And I get to help plan the wedding,” she whispered.
“Of course. You and Cheyenne can plan it all.”
“And be in it too.”
“Other than the bride, you will be the most important girl there.”
She beamed at me. “Got the ring?”
“Got it.” I’d picked it up from the jeweler that morning, and the box was tucked inside my bag.
“And you’re going to do it tonight at dinner?”
“That’s the plan.” I’d enlisted April Sawyer’s help in booking what she called the most romantic booth in the restaurant at Cloverleigh Farms for nine o’clock tonight. “But we better stop talking about it now.”
“Right.” Mariah mimed zipping her lips, which had been our secret signal over the last month, ever since I’d told her that I wanted to ask Cheyenne to marry me.
Finally, she’d said.
We’d gone to the jewelry store together and she’d helped me pick out a ring, for which I then sought Blair’s approval, just in case a nine-year-old girl and thirty-three-year-old man did not have good taste in diamond rings.
But Blair had taken one look and said it was absolutely perfect.
I was worried she was going to let the cat out of the bag, since she and Cheyenne were so close and talked almost every day, but somehow she’d managed to keep the secret.
The jeweler had said he could have it ready for me by Valentine’s Day with no problem at all, “our” room at the Cloverleigh Farms inn was booked for the entire weekend (again, thanks to a little assistance from April Sawyer), and my mother—who knew but had been sworn to secrecy on pain of letting Buddy track mud on her new white living room rug—had happily agreed to watch Mariah and the dog at her house while Cheyenne and I were away.
Last night I’d told Griffin, Moretti, and Beckett about my weekend proposal plans over beers at the pub, and they were happy for me—for both of us.
The only other person who knew was Liza, my therapist. We’d discussed it a lot, in fact, and I felt good that she’d been supportive of the idea.
Not because I was “cured” or anything, but because I was openly talking about how taking such a big step might affect me and what I could do to cope with the panic attacks that still occasionally snuck up on me.
I can’t say that I enjoyed putting all my emotions out on display and dissecting them the way she liked to at our sessions, but I could see how it helped to stop pretending they didn’t exist and take steps to anticipate and mitigate the negative stuff.
I liked having a process for dealing with it, and best of all, Cheyenne could see that I was willing to do the work on myself in order to be a better partner to her.
I could even see how it made me a better father—more patient, empathetic, and understanding.
Everything was in place.
All I needed was the love of my life.
Cheyenne
I gasped. “You got our same room!”
“Of course I did,” Cole said, opening the door for me. “After you.”
I moved past him into the beautiful, familiar room, my heart thumping happily.
On the table by the window was a champagne bottle in an ice bucket and two glasses.
The drapes were pulled open to reveal a winter wonderland—a pasture and red barn, the rolling hills of the vineyard, the rows of bare trees in the orchard—all blanketed with snow.
Removing my coat, I laid it over the back of a chair and stood in front of the glass, taking it all in.
“God, this reminds me so much of Blair and Griffin’s wedding day. Remember that blizzard?”
Cole came up behind, wrapping his arms around me. He kissed my temple. “I remember everything about that day. And that night.”
Smiling, I placed my arms over his. “Seems like yesterday, doesn’t it? And yet it seems like we’ve been together for a hundred years.”
“I agree. I don’t know what I did without you. Were you really right there next door all that time?”
“Pretty much.”
“God, I was stupid.”
“Don’t feel bad.” I patted his hand. “Most men are.”
He switched his grip to a headlock and growled in my ear. “Careful, little girl. I’ve got you all alone in the woods now.”
Giggling, I pretended to fight him off. “Oh no! Whatever are you going to do to me?”
He swept me off my feet and carried me over to the bed, tossing me onto it and stretching out above me. “Well, I was going to pour you some champagne, run a bubble bath for you, maybe book you a massage before our dinner reservation . . . but now I’ve changed my mind.”
“Oh yeah?” I wrapped my arms and legs around him.
“Yeah.” He buried his face in my neck and kissed my throat, his hand stealing beneath my sweater. “Now I just want you right here in this bed.”
“Mmm. Works for me.”
“And I want you naked.”
I laughed. “Even better.”
He picked his head up and whispered against my lips. “And I want to make you scream as loud as you did that first night in this room.”
Smiling, I rubbed my lips back and forth against his. We always had to be so quiet at home, so that we wouldn’t wake Mariah. “Well, then. You better get busy.”
The first time was frantic, fast, rough, and—yes—loud. So loud that I felt bad for any guests staying in the surrounding rooms at the inn.
“Don’t feel bad,” Cole said, running his fingertips up and down my spine. “I hope everyone heard. Then they’ll know what a man I am.”
“Oh, Lordy.” His stomach growled noisily. I picked up my head and grinned at him. “I think you worked up an appetite.”
“You might be right.”
“Should we go down to dinner?”
“Does that mean we’d have to put clothes on?”
“Um, yes.”
He frowned. “Maybe I’ll switch my vote to room service.”
“But I brought pretty clothes to wear. And I think you’ll like my outfit for tonight.”
“More than I like your naked body?”
“Well, maybe not that much.” I laughed. “But you’ll still like it.”
“Okay, fine. We can get dressed and go eat.”
I gave him a quick kiss. “I promise, we will get naked again right after dinner. What time is our reservation?”
“Nine.”
I checked the clock on the nightstand. “Ooh! I barely have forty-five minutes to get ready!” Rolling off him, I scrambled from the bed to the bathroom and switched on the shower. I didn’t have time to wash my hair, so I just threw it up so it wouldn’t get wet.
Being in the shower reminded me of the morning after Griffin and Blair’s wedding. It made me smile, remembering the way he’d said, You’re making it really easy to fall in love with you.
I got out of the shower and dried off, and while I was getting dressed, Cole slipped in.
He left the bathroom door open, and as I was pulling the sweater dress I’d worn at Thanksgiving over my head, I heard him say, “I’ve got some fond memories in this shower.
Is it too late to ask you to get back in? ”
I smiled. “Yes!”
“Dammit.”
By the time he got out five minutes later, I’d already tugged on the thigh-high burgundy boots and I was fussing with my hair.
Holding a towel around his waist, he stood behind me in the mirror and shook his head. “Fucking hell. Not the boots.”
Grinning mischievously, I added another pin to my loose, messy bun. “The boots.”
“But I won’t make it through dinner.”
“You won’t even see them during dinner.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll know they’re there.” He came up right behind me and kissed the back of my neck. “Let’s stay in.”
“Cole, you’re getting me all wet,” I said, laughing. “Now go put some clothes on before I lose my mind. You look too good in a towel.”
He tossed it aside. “How about without the towel?”
Groaning, I spun around and faced him, looking him over head to foot.
The messy wet hair, those gorgeous eyes, the five o’clock shadow, the broad shoulders and chest, the sculpted arms and abs, the massive cock between his muscular thighs, stirring again.
I forced my eyes up to his. Placed my hands on his chest. “Without the towel, you look even better. I still can’t believe you’re mine. ”
“Believe it.” He kissed me softly. “I guess we can have dinner before I ravage you again. The torture will be bittersweet.”
I laughed. “I’ll be ready in five.”
He disappeared into the bedroom area while I finished getting ready at the mirror. When my hair was neat enough and my makeup complete, I turned off the light.
“Well?” I said, presenting myself to Cole, who was dressed in a charcoal suit with a light blue dress shirt. His hair was combed, his shoes were shined, and the room smelled like his cologne. As always, he set off butterflies in my stomach. “How do I look?” I asked.
He looked up from adjusting a cufflink. “Hmm.”
“Hmm?” I stuck my hands on my hips and pouted. “That’s not the right answer.”
“I know, but . . .” He studied me as he came closer.