Epilogue Part One
Magnolia
One Month Later
Bright spring sunshine bathed my skin as I lay on my side in the backyard. I'd spread a quilt on the freshly mown lawn, and Rosie and I were enjoying the beautiful weather after days of rain. The ground was a little damp beneath the quilt, but we didn't care.
Rosie was rolling over now, and keeping her on the quilt was more of a challenge than I'd expected. She couldn't crawl, but she'd figured out she could get almost anywhere by rolling.
Our sweet little girl had a spark of trouble in her.
Just like her daddy.
Vance was across the lawn, at the back of the property, supervising the renovations on the carriage house. Now that we were engaged, he and Rosie had officially moved in and we'd agreed to go ahead with the plan to turn the carriage house into his studio.
It would be ideal once it was rebuilt on the inside, right down to the small gravel driveway to the door so he could receive delivery of materials.
Life was just about perfect.
Except for the wedding. I was partially regretting the decision not to elope. It would have been so much easier to fly to Vegas, grab a dress off the rack, and just get it done.
We even had connections out there—Evers's brother, Axel, ran the western division of Sinclair Security out of Las Vegas and was best friends with Dylan Kane, the owner of the Delecta Casino and Resort. Dylan had called Vance personally to offer anything we wanted.
Like a fool, I'd turned him down.
I wanted a small, romantic wedding in my backyard. And that's what I was getting, complete with exchanging our vows in the gazebo Vance had built for me.
Planning a wedding was much more involved than I'd guessed. I should have known. I'd helped Sloane plan enough shows at the gallery to understand that these things involved so many more details than they should have.
Abigail had taken charge. She was so sweet and refined, I hadn't realized she was also terrifyingly organized and very stubborn.
I was efficient and organized when it came to business. But party planning? Not so much.
I wanted to marry Vance. And I wanted it to be romantic. I just couldn't bring myself to care about flowers, or table settings, or music, or seating arrangements. Or anything aside from my dress, the guest list, and the cake.
It wasn't that Abigail didn't listen to me. She did. She was wonderful—patient and thoughtful and filled with creative ideas that gave away the close attention she'd paid to who Vance and I really were. And she was doing the whole thing for free.
Well, not entirely for free. She'd strong-armed Vance into making another donation to the foundation as her fee. Abigail was born to extort money out of wealthy people in the name of a good cause.
Her first benefit for the Winters Foundation had been a raging success, and the next one would be even better. She'd beamed when we'd decided to ask for donations to the food bank in lieu of gifts.
She was such a sweetheart, I felt terrible that I'd been dodging her calls. Only for one day. I needed a break from the wedding.
I looked up to see Vance loping across the lawn, a roguish grin on his handsome face. He reached the edge of the quilt and scooped up Rosie, who had rolled in his direction the second she'd seen movement.
Scout, who had been supervising the construction work with Vance, came around the quilt to collapse beside me, leaning his short, long body into mine. I rubbed his ears and lost myself in watching Vance swing Rosie in the air.
She loved it, babbling with glee and reaching for the sun.
He was such a good dad.
When Rosie was done, Vance dropped down to join Scout and me on the quilt, setting Rosie between us. She promptly rolled toward Scout and reached out to play with his paw.
Scout gave a harrumph and settled his head on his other paw, content to let Rosie play as long as he knew she was safe.
"She's rolling everywhere," Vance said, looking down at Rosie's drooping eyelids. She was napping less and sleeping longer at night, but she was also more active.
It was a good thing we were getting more sleep. We needed the energy to keep up with her.
"I know. She almost rolled herself to the top of the stairs this morning," I said.
"Do we need to get a gate already?" Vance asked, his eyebrows drawing together in concern.
"Probably. She'll be crawling in another month or two."
Vance rolled to his back and let out a groan. "I'm not ready for crawling. She's already a terror and she's only rolling.”
"I know," I agreed. "But I don't think we get a say."
"Nope." Vance turned back to his side and looked at me from beneath his thick eyelashes. I knew that glint in his eye. I wasn't surprised when he said, "When do you think she'll fall asleep?”
Taking in Rosie's soft touch on Scout's paw and her glazed eyes, I said, "Not long. Why? Do you want to go try to get some work done?"
"Definitely. If by work you mean stripping off your clothes and making you come."
"Hmm. I could make room in my schedule for that," I said.
"I was thinking we should move Rosie from the sitting room to the other master bedroom. The one I was using. That way, she'll be close, but we'll have a little space."
It was a good idea. The day before, I'd put Rosie down for her nap, and then Vance had tucked me in. Naked.
It would have been heaven, but I'd ended up screaming his name and I'd woken Rosie. I'd learned the hard way that a wailing baby is a complete orgasm killer.
It wasn't my fault. Really. I'd never been a screamer during sex before. I tried to be quiet with Vance. Sometimes, I even managed it. But other times, I lost all control. He really was that good.
Remembering, I shifted to lie on my front before I gave in to the urge to peel off my clothes right there.
All I had to do was think about sex with Vance and my body came to life. Think about sex, see Vance with his shirt off, catch that glint in his eyes . . . it didn't take much.
"Let's take her up now," I said. "You can move her crib, and we'll put her down for her nap." I eyed Rosie's slow blink. A few more of those, and her lids would stay closed. "I don't want her to fall asleep out here. She might wake up when we bring her in."
Vance scooped Rosie up and nudged Scout off the quilt while I grabbed our things. Rosie snuggled her head into his shoulder and let out a huff of air.
She'd worn herself out with all that rolling. Maybe she'd take a nice long nap. I could only hope.
We were headed to the kitchen door when my phone rang. Charlotte. "Hey, Charlie, what's up?"
"Are you guys busy?"
"Just putting Rosie down for a nap, why?"
"What about after?"
"We don't have anything planned," I said, curious. Charlie wasn't usually this cagey. "What's going on?"
Vance caught my question and looked at me, his eyebrows raised. I shrugged.
"Can you meet me somewhere after Rosie wakes up?"
"Sure, where?" I asked.
"I'll tell you later. I don't want to talk to Vance about it over the phone. Just call me when you're ready."
"Okay, later." I hung up and shoved the phone in my pocket, wondering. What didn't she want to talk to Vance about?
"What's Charlie up to?" Vance asked as we climbed the stairs to the second level.
"I don't know. She wants us to meet her somewhere after Rosie's nap, but she wouldn't tell me where."
"She's been off lately," he said, handing me Rosie so he could drag her crib through the double doors that led to the bedroom that had been my grandfather's. We could move the changing table later.
As soon as Vance slid the crib into place, he returned to unplug the video monitor. I got busy changing her diaper. The sooner we got her settled in her crib, the sooner I could have Vance all to myself.
"She won't talk to me," I said, snapping Rosie back into cotton jammies and fastening the Velcro on her wearable blanket.
"Charlie likes to keep everything inside," Vance said.
"Yeah, like you can talk," I said, laying Rosie down in her crib and turning on the mobile she liked to watch while she fell asleep.
"Hey, I talk about my feelings all the time." He came up behind me and slid his hands beneath my t-shirt, his fingers nudging my bra out of the way. "I feel like fucking you. I love licking your pussy. It makes me really fucking happy when you come on my cock."
"Vance," I protested, my cheeks flaming red.
"Those are feelings. Important feelings."
He led me away from the crib, carefully shutting the door as we snuck across the sitting room to our bedroom. We shut that door as well. Better safe than sorry and all that. I stripped off my shirt, taking my bra with it.
"You smell like fresh cut grass and flowers," Vance said, running his lips over my shoulder.
I buried my nose in his hair and breathed. He smelled like Vance, of heat, and the outdoors, and man. No other scent could fill my heart and set it racing. I dropped my hands to his jeans and pulled at the snap.
"Naked. Now," I said.
"Bossy," he murmured.
I didn't answer, just shoved his jeans to the floor and backed up, pulling him with me to the bed. His long, hard body came down on top of mine, his hips settling between my legs.
"Magnolia," he breathed, rocking his hips into mine. "I was watching you lying in the sun, and I wanted to fuck you there. I wanted to see you naked under the blue sky, all this smooth skin bare for me."
"Too bad the construction workers were there," I said, moaning as his cock rubbed against my pussy, the head teasing my clit.
"They’re not here now." He slid one hand between my legs, his fingertips pressing inside. He brought them back up, gleaming with moisture, and sucked them into his mouth. "You taste so fucking good. I need more of that."
I wasn't going to argue. Vance moved down my body with slow deliberation, the silky slide of his skin against mine a tease, heightening my arousal before he'd really touched me.
His tongue flicked across my clit, and I gasped.
Vance lifted his head and met my eyes. "Feel free to scream all you want, Sugar."
I wasn't going to scream. I didn't mean to. A few minutes later, I forgot all about that. He licked, he tasted, he sucked my clit between his lips as he drove two fingers deep inside me.
I came in a rush of gasping breath and sounds that might have been screams.
It wasn't my fault. What Vance could do with his mouth and two fingers was a miracle. He surged up the bed and was filling me with his cock while I was still coming.
When he was in to the hilt, he froze. We’d decided to forgo condoms recently and neither of us was used to how different it felt.
How intimate. How real.
"Fuck,” he groaned. “I can feel you squeezing my cock with your pussy."
His mouth took mine, his lips tasting of me and of the uniquely perfect flavor that was only Vance. He seemed content to stay where he was, buried inside me, kissing me senseless, pinning me to the bed.
His mouth moved, his lips tugging, teeth nipping, his tongue tasting me, twining with mine. All I could do was hold on and sink into his kiss. Every touch, every brush of his lips told me how he felt, showed me how much he loved me.
I could have kissed Vance forever. I would have. But I needed to move. My orgasm had ebbed into another slowly growing wave of need, tension coiling inside me.
Vance was all patience, kissing me over and over, the weight of his heavy body keeping me still.
I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his lean hips, trying to rock up into his cock. He filled me completely in this position, stretching me open. Propping himself up on his elbows, he looked down our bodies to where we were joined.
"Is this what you want?"
He didn't thrust. Nothing that overt. Instead, he made a tight circle with his hips. I sucked in a breath. He'd barely moved, his upper body completely still, but the flex of his hips ground his pelvis into my clit, sending a molten flare of pleasure through my pussy.
He did it again, the movement almost nothing, but so intense I didn't know if I could take it. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a ragged moan.
"I'm going to fuck you just like this," he whispered, "until I feel you come so hard on my cock you take me with you."
He stopped talking and kissed me again, slanting his mouth into mine, swallowing my moans as he made another tight circle with his hips, driving a spike of pleasure straight up my spine and into my brain.
I clamped my knees to his sides, hanging on for dear life, kissing him, his mouth my anchor in the rising tide of pleasure.
My nipples rubbed the sparse hair on his chest. My heels dug into his muscled legs. My fingers gripped his shoulders as if I could keep myself from falling.
Without the distraction of thrusting, touching, fucking him back, I could feel every tiny change in position. His hips circled one last time, and my clit exploded.
Pinned beneath Vance, all I could do was kiss him harder, feeding from his mouth, giving him every gasp and cry.
I could feel the muscles in my pussy tighten on his cock in hard, sucking pulses, dragging him with me into bliss, just as he'd wanted. His own groans melded with mine, his breath short as he filled me.
I was still shaking when he rolled to his back, taking me with him, my limp body draped over his as he reached out to pull the quilt over our bodies.
His hand stroked through my hair, tugging gently at the strands in a way he knew was guaranteed to lull me to sleep.
"Are we taking a nap?" I asked, drowsy and replete.
"Just for a while. I want to lie here with you like this."
"Mmm," I agreed. I could stay here forever, skin to skin with Vance, his cock still inside me, his hands stroking me with reverent love. "I love you," I murmured.
"My Sugar Magnolia," Vance said. I gave a laughing growl at the hated nickname. He tugged a lock of hair and said, "You taste so sweet, I can't call you anything else."
"Mmm." I wasn't going to argue about it while he was playing with my hair and I was half-asleep. Secretly, I kind of liked the way he called me 'Sugar'. But don't tell Vance that.
"I love you too," he whispered against the top of my head. “And I’m going to spend the rest of our lives showing you exactly how much.”
I pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and drifted into sleep, my heart full of Vance.